DON’T STOP (Lila and Darrell) novel Chapter 47

Chapter 47

Chapter 47

Bella

I stirred under the thin duvet, the knock pulling me out of a dream I couldn’t quite remember. My body felt heavy, like I’d been sleeping for days instead of hours. I groaned softly and rolled toward the edge of the fe

“Lara… someone’s at the door. Can you check?”

Silence.

I cracked one eye open. Lara’s bed was a dark lump across the small room, her breathing slow and even. Still out cold. Typical.

I fumbled for my phone on the nightstand. The screen lit up. It was 4:03 a.m, My stomach twisted. Who the hell knocks at four in the morning?

Then I saw the notifications.

Jones.

Ten missed calls.

The last one ended two minutes ago.

My heart gave a funny little thud. Jones never called like that unless something was seriously wrong. I was about to hit redial when the knock came again. It was sharper and more insistent this time around.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, bare feet hitting the cold hardwood. The oversized T-shirt I slept in barely skimmed my thighs.as I padded to the door, trying not to wake/Lara.

I cracked it open just enough to peek.

Jones stood there under the hallway light, hoodie up, eyes wide and glassy like he hadn’t slept in days. Before I could even get his name out, he stepped forward and crushed me against his chest in a hug so tight it stole my breath.

“Jones…. what??” –

He didn’t answer. He just held me like I might disappear if he let go. His heart was hammering against my ear.

“What is it?” I whispered, voice muffled against his hoodie. “You’re scaring me.”

He finally pulled back, but only enough to grab my hand. His fingers were freezing. Without a word he tugged me out into the corridor, quietly shutting the door behind us so it didn’t slam and wake the whole floor.

We ended up on the upper landing outside the residence block-the little concrete ledge that overlooked the dark quad. The night air was sharp, biting at my bare legs. I hugged my arms around myself, suddenly very aware I wasn’t wearing anything under the T-shirt.

“Jones. Talk to me. What happened?”

He sat on the low wall and pulled me down beside him. For a second he just stared at the ground, throat working like he was trying to swallow something too big.

“I really thought you had killed yourself,” he said, voice cracking on the last word.

221 am ● PPP

Chaper 12

His eyet capped to ming. They wave red-rmed and desperate. “I thought, fuck, Bella, I thought you’d done it.”

“Why would I kill tøyself? Jone what are you even talking about?”

if came out

was trying to clear his head. “Haven’t you checked your results?”

re water down my spine.

W

Results Wait! Results”

E

Today was results day

Id completely forgotten. I’d crashed after pulling an all-nighter on that last essay for Black’s class, phone oti silent, brain fried. I hadn’t even thought to log in.

“No.” said slowly. “I.. I slept through it. I forgot.”

His face crumpled. He reached for me again, wrapping both arms around me like he could shield me from whatever was

coming

“It’s okay,” he rushed out. “It’s good, I promise. You passed everything.”

I shoved at his chest, hard enough that he had to let go. “You’re lying.”

“Bella-*

“You’re lying to me. My voice rose, thin and sharp in the quiet night. “You didn’t blow up my phone with ten missed calls and run halfway across campus at four a.m. because I passed. You wouldn’t look like that if I passed.”

He opened his mouth and closed it. Then, he looked away.

My pulse roared in my ears. “Did I fail?”

Silence.

“Jones. Look at me.” I grabbed his chin and forced his face back to mine. “Did I fail Black’s class?”

He swallowed so hard I heard it. “You…. you got an F. In everything else you’re fine. But his class… F.”

An E

Not a D. Not even close.

My mouth went dry. The night air suddenly felt too cold, too thin, like I couldn’t pull enough oxygen into my lungs.

The breath left me in a rush. “Fuck.”

“I checked the portal as soon as it dropped,” he said quickly. “I thought maybe there was a mistake, or-or maybe you’d already seen it and…” He trailed off, eyes shining. “You said it, remember? Last week. You were stressing about the paper, and you said, ‘If I fail this class, Jones, I swear I’ll kill myself! You laughed after, but I didn’t. I couldn’t sleep thinking about it. Then the results came out and you weren’t answering, and I just-I panicked.”

I stared at him, my chest feeling tight.

8:21 am ⚫p pp

Chapter 42

sorry.” I whispered. “I didn’t mean it like that I was just venting”

“I know. I know” He pulled me close again, forehead against mine. “But you seared the shit out of me

I let him hold me for a second, breathing in the familiar smell of his cologne mixed with cold night air. But my mind was already racing somewhere else.

“Everything else is fine,” he rushed to add, his hand squeezing mine. “You aced the rest. Your overall GPA might still-

“No.” I cut him off, voice flat. “It won’t.”

I knew the math better than anyone. Three credits at zero points. The scholarship letter had been crystal clear: maintain a 3.5 cumulative GPA or higher, no exceptions, no appeals for individual courses. Black’s Advanced Literary Theory was a required core class. It was three credits that carried the same weight as any other. An F would drag me from 3.6-something straight down below the line. Probably to a 3.2. Maybe lower.

Everything was over.

The full ride. The housing stipend. The meal plan. The emergency fund that kept me from having to call home for every little thing.

Gone.

I stared at the dark quad below us, the streetlamps blurring a little. My eyes were stinging, but I refused to let the tears fall. Not here. Not in front of Jones.

He was still talking, something about emailing the registrar, talking to an advisor first thing Monday, maybe there was a clerical error, but I wasn’t really hearing him anymore.

All I could see was Mom’s face.

I pictured her in the small living room back home, the one with the worn gray couch and the old ceiling fan that clicked every rotation. She’d be sitting there in her favorite cardigan, phone in hand, checking the bank app the way she did every morning even though she tried to act casual about it. “My girl’s doing amazing over there,” she’d tell her friends at book club, voice bright with pride. “She’s going to graduate with honors, get that big job, come back, and take care of everything.”

She’d already told everyone. Her sisters. The neighbors. The ladies from her reading group. Even the woman who did her hair had heard about the “graduation party we’re planning when Bella finishes.”

And now…

I could imagine the call. Her voice catching on the first “Bella?” The long pause when I told her. The way she’d try to sound steady-“It’s okay, sweetheart. We’ll figure it out”–but I’d hear the waver underneath. The disappointment she’d never voice. The way she’d end the call and sit in the quiet house, staring at the wall, mentally adding up how many extra shifts at the clinic she’d have to take just to keep the lights on without my scholarship money coming through.

She’d never say it out loud, but I knew: she’d been counting on me. To break the cycle. To make all the years of working double jobs, skipping vacations, and scraping by so I could study abroad worth it.

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