The Captain's Dirty Little Secret

Chapter 70: Chapter 70 - In Rescue

The sample girl on the poster kept smiling.

Roxie did not.

For a moment, she could not move.

The cafeteria kept buzzing around her. People were still shouting near the vending machines. Coach Hayes was still trying to pull two boys apart. Someone was laughing. Someone was filming. Someone was yelling, ”Bro, your shoe!”

Normal chaos.

Except Roxie had gum in her hair.

In the front.

Beside her face.

On senior picture day.

Angela stood so fast her chair screamed against the floor.

”Bathroom,” she said.

Roxie did not move.

Karen’s hand was still wrapped around her wrist, keeping her from touching the gum again. Her grip was firm but not mean.

”Roxie,” Karen said quietly. ”Up.”

”I can’t—”

”Yes, you can.”

Angela stepped closer, blocking her from the rest of the cafeteria. ”Don’t look around.”

Obviously, Roxie looked around.

Terrible decision.

Too many people were turned toward the commotion, but enough were looking at her now. A few girls whispered. Someone’s eyes dropped to the curl beside her face and widened. Another girl lifted her phone, then lowered it when Karen stared at her like she had chosen death.

Across the cafeteria, Zac’s head lifted.

His eyes found her immediately.

His smile disappeared.

Roxie looked away fast.

No.

Absolutely not.

He was not seeing her like this.

Not with gum stuck in her hair, not with her face already heating, not with her eyes starting to burn because some pathetic person had decided her senior picture needed to become a crime scene.

Angela grabbed Roxie’s bag from the bench.

Karen took Roxie’s tray and shoved it onto the table like it had personally offended her.

”Walk,” Karen said.

Roxie stood.

Her knees felt weird.

That was dramatic.

She hated it.

It was gum. Gum did not get to make her knees weird.

But every step felt too loud. Every eye felt too close. Angela stayed on one side, Karen on the other, both of them moving like bodyguards in lip gloss.

They reached the cafeteria doors.

Behind them, the noise rose again as Coach Hayes dragged one boy toward the hallway and another teacher started shouting about phones. The perfect distraction.

Whoever had done it had picked the exact second nobody would notice.

Roxie’s stomach twisted.

That meant it was planned.

Not an accident.

Not random cafeteria chaos.

Someone had waited for the commotion and pressed gum into the curl beside her face.

On senior picture day.

Her throat tightened.

No.

She was not crying in the hallway.

They turned into the nearest girls’ bathroom.

Angela pushed the door open with her hip. ”Move, move, emergency.”

A freshman at the sink looked up, startled.

Karen gave her one flat look. ”Out.”

The freshman left immediately.

Smart girl.

Angela locked the main door.

Roxie stared at her. ”You can’t lock the bathroom.”

Angela twisted the lock anyway. ”Watch me.”

Karen turned Roxie toward the mirror.

Roxie resisted for half a second.

Stupid.

Pointless.

She had to see it.

Still, her body did not want to.

”Roxie,” Angela said, softer now.

That almost broke her.

Roxie lifted her eyes to the mirror.

There it was.

Pink bubblegum smashed into the front curl beside her cheek, sticky and bright and ugly. It had dragged through the strand, pulling the red hair into a clumped twist that looked wet at the edges.

Right where the camera would see it.

Right where no angle could hide it.

Right where everyone would look first.

Roxie stared.

Her mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

Angela’s eyes filled instantly. ”Okay. We can fix this.”

Karen was already digging through Roxie’s bag. ”Don’t touch it. We need ice. Oil. Something slick.”

”Ice?” Angela asked.

”To harden it first.”

”Right. Science.”

The speaker crackled overhead.

”Senior picture group B, please report to the auditorium. Senior picture group B.”

The bathroom froze.

Angela’s face drained.

Karen looked toward the door.

Roxie already knew.

Group B.

Their group.

The universe had comedic timing and no morals.

Angela grabbed Roxie’s hands. ”We’ll talk to the photographer.”

”No.”

”Yes.”

”It won’t matter.”

”We can move you to the end,” Karen said.

”They’re not going to redo the entire schedule because someone put gum in my hair.”

Angela squeezed her hands harder. ”Then we’ll make them.”

Roxie wanted to believe that.

She really did.

But Briarwick did not stop for girls falling apart in bathrooms. Briarwick smiled, adjusted the lighting, took the picture, and moved on.

Roxie swallowed hard.

”Go,” she said.

Angela blinked. ”What?”

”Go take your pictures.”

”No.”

”Angela.”

”No.”

Karen crossed her arms. ”We’re not leaving you.”

”You are.” Roxie forced her voice to stay sharp because sharp was better than shaking. ”You both spent time getting ready. Your pictures are in like five minutes.”

”Roxie—”

”Go.”

Angela’s eyes were shiny now. ”You’re not bossing us right now.”

”I’m always bossing you.”

Karen looked at her for one long second.

Then she nodded once. ”We’ll talk to the photographer first.”

Angela nodded fast. ”We’ll get you moved to the last spot. We’ll make up something.”

”Like what?” Roxie asked.

Angela lifted her chin. ”Medical emergency.”

Karen gave her a look. ”Hair emergency.”

”Same thing for seniors.”

Roxie’s laugh broke in the middle.

Angela looked like she might cry too, which was not allowed.

Karen squeezed Roxie’s shoulder once. ”Stay here. Don’t touch it.”

Angela pointed at her. ”Don’t cut it. Don’t do anything insane with scissors.”

Roxie lifted two fingers in a lazy salute.

Then they left.

The door shut.

The bathroom went quiet.

Roxie stood alone in front of the mirror, with gum stuck to the one curl everyone would see first.

Her face crumpled before she could stop it.

She grabbed the edge of the sink with both hands and bent forward.

She could not break down.

Then the first sob broke out of her anyway.

Small.

Ugly.

Humiliating.

She pressed one hand over her mouth and stared at herself through tears.

Her hair was still perfect everywhere else.

That somehow made it worse.

Because one ruined piece was enough.

One sticky pink piece near her face, and the whole picture was gone.

Roxie closed her eyes.

She had spent two hours making herself look like a girl whose life was not falling apart.

And somebody had ruined it in two seconds.

The bathroom door handle rattled.

Roxie jerked up from the sink so fast her tears almost reversed out of fear.

”Occupied,” she snapped, wiping under her eyes with the back of her hand.

The door opened anyway.

Zac Prescott stepped inside with a plastic cup of ice in one hand and a pile of paper towels in the other.

Roxie stared at him. What was Zac Prescott doing here?

For one full second, her brain gave up.

”What are you doing?”

He let the door close behind him. ”Helping.”

”This is the girls’ bathroom.”

”I noticed.”

”You can’t be in here.”

”Angela told me you were alone.”

”Angela is dead to me.”

”She also said you might cut your hair.”

Roxie’s mouth shut.

Zac looked at the gum.

His face changed.

Not pity. Thank God. If he had looked sad, Roxie might have climbed into the sink and stayed there until graduation.

This was worse in a better way.

He looked angry.

The kind that sat in his jaw and shoulders and made him look like he was trying very hard not to go back into the cafeteria and start flipping tables.

”Who did it?” he asked.

”I don’t know.”

”Kendall?”

”No.”

He looked at her.

Roxie looked back.

Then paused.

Because Kendall was a lot of things. Horrible. Competitive. Status-obsessed. A walking injury to female friendship.

But this?

This was small. Nasty. Hidden.

Kendall liked people to know when she won.

”No,” Roxie said again. ”Kendall wouldn’t do this.”

Zac’s jaw flexed. ”Bianca?”

Roxie looked away. ”I said I don’t know.”

That was the truth.

Mostly.

She had guesses. Too many guesses. That was the problem with being popular and hated at the same time. The suspect list had range.

Zac stepped closer, then stopped beside her, keeping just enough space that she could breathe.

”Can I look?”

Roxie let out a humorless laugh. ”Everyone else already did.”

”That’s not what I asked.”

Her throat tightened.

Rude.

He was rude for making permission feel like something soft.

She nodded once.

Zac moved behind her and studied the front curl through the mirror. He was close enough that she could smell him, clean soap and boy and the faint outside-air smell from the hallway. His shoulder almost brushed hers.

Almost.

Her face heated, which was insane, because she had gum in her hair and mascara threatening legal action under her eyes.

Zac wrapped ice in a paper towel. ”This might feel weird.”

”My whole life feels weird.”

”Fair.”

He lifted the ruined curl gently, barely touching it.

Roxie’s breath caught anyway.

He pressed the wrapped ice against the gum, careful not to tug.

The cold touched her cheek through the hair.

Roxie flinched.

”Sorry.”

”It’s fine.”

”It’s not fine.”

”Don’t start.”

His eyes met hers in the mirror. ”Okay.”

The bathroom went quiet except for the dull hum of the lights and the distant chaos from the hallway. Somewhere outside, seniors were laughing on their way to get their pictures taken. The world was moving on like Roxie was not standing in a bathroom with bubblegum in her hair and Zac Prescott behind her, trying to save the part of herself she had spent two hours pretending was untouchable.

”I spent two hours on it,” she said.

The words slipped out before she could catch them.

Zac’s hand paused for half a second.

Then he kept holding the ice there.

”Yeah,” he said. ”I figured. I spent, like, a minute on mine.”

Roxie swallowed hard. ”That’s pathetic.”

”My face does most of the work.”

She blinked at him through the mirror.

He shrugged like this was a normal thing to say while holding cafeteria ice to gum in her hair. ”I mean, look at me.”

”Conceited.”

”Accurate.”

”You’re impossible.”

”But effective.”

Roxie stared at him.

Then, against her will, her mouth twitched.

Zac saw it immediately. His own mouth curved just a little, like that had been the whole point.

Roxie hated that it worked.

She hated more that he knew it did.

The gum started to harden. Zac lowered the ice and used the paper towel to work at the edge of it. The first tiny piece came free.

Roxie stared.

”Oh.”

”See?” he said. ”Progress.”

”That was one crumb.”

”One less crumb.”

”You’re weirdly positive for someone committing bathroom trespassing.”

”I’m focused.”

Zac kept working. Slowly. Carefully. Ice, paper towel, gentle pull, stop when the hair resisted. He never yanked. Never rushed. Never acted annoyed when she flinched or sucked in a breath.

It made her want to cry harder.

Which was so unfair.

The gum came out in ugly little pieces, pink bits sticking to the paper towel. Roxie watched every one like it was proof she might survive the day.

Her curl looked terrible afterward. Bent, damp, frizzy at the edges.

But no gum.

If Angela and Karen had managed to stall the photographer, Roxie might actually survive this.

Zac leaned closer to check. His shoulder brushed hers this time.

Both of them froze.

It was barely anything.

A shoulder.

A bathroom mirror.

A ruined curl.

Her body still reacted like he had done something scandalous.

Zac’s eyes lifted to hers in the mirror. He reached for the black ribbon tied at the end of her ponytail, then stopped. ”Can I?”

Roxie nodded.

Zac untied the bow with the concentration of someone defusing a bomb. It should have been funny. It was a little funny. But his knuckles were bruised, and his fingers were careful, and the whole thing made Roxie’s throat feel stupid again.

He pulled a clean section of hair forward, blended the damaged curl into it, then tied the ribbon lower near her cheek.

Roxie watched in the mirror.

The curl was not perfect. Her eyes were still a little red. Her face looked softer than she wanted.

But the bow made it look intentional.

Roxie stared.

”How do you know how to do that?”

Zac looked awkward for the first time since he came in. ”Mia watches hair videos.”

”You watch hair tutorials?”

”She makes me hold the phone.”

”That is the weakest excuse I’ve ever heard.”

”It’s true.”

”Sure.”

”She also made me learn braiding once.”

Roxie turned slightly. ”You can braid?”

”No.”

”You just said—”

”I learned. I didn’t say I was good.”

A laugh broke out of her.

Zac looked at her like that laugh had done something to him.

The bathroom suddenly felt too small again.

His hand was still near her hair. Her shoulder was almost against his chest. They were both looking at each other through the mirror instead of turning around like normal people.

Normal people were boring.

Also less likely to get caught in bathrooms.

Roxie reached up and touched the ribbon lightly. ”It looks okay?”

Zac’s eyes moved over her face.

”Yeah. You look pretty.”

Her breath caught.

Not because no one had said that today.

People had.

Freshmen. Angela. Teachers. Zac in texts.

But this was different.

He was standing close enough to see the mascara under her eyes, the damp curl, the panic she had not fully shoved back into place yet.

And he still said it.

Roxie looked away first.

”Stop.”

”Okay.”

But he did not move.

Neither did she.

The speaker outside crackled faintly in the hallway.

Roxie should have stepped back.

She didn’t.

Zac’s hand lowered from her hair and hovered near her waist.

His split lip. The bruise near his eye. The serious look that kept ruining her ability to think normal thoughts.

”What happened to your face?” she whispered, turning around.

”Family reunion.”

”That bad?”

”Worse.”

Her fingers lifted before she could stop them, brushing near the bruise by his mouth without touching it.

Zac went very still.

”Does it hurt?” she asked.

”Right now?”

Her eyes flicked to his.

Big mistake.

His voice had gone quiet.

Roxie’s fingers curled into the edge of his shirt.

The bathroom air changed.

His eyes dropped to her mouth.

Hers did the same.

There was no reason for them to be this close.

There were many reasons for them not to be.

Zac leaned in a fraction.

Roxie did not move back.

Her heart slammed once.

Then the bathroom door handle rattled.

They both froze.

A girl outside laughed. ”Why is it locked?”

Roxie’s eyes widened.