“See you later,” he says, his voice distant.
“Love you,” I say, watching him weave through the tables, his broad shoulders hunched like he’s carrying pounds of deadweight.
The door chimes as he leaves, and the café suddenly feels quieter, the chatter and clinking cups going MIA. I stare at my half-empty latte, the whipped cream gone, dissolved into a murky mess.
I know I should be angry. Or maybe hurt. But all I feel is hollow, like I’m grasping at something that’s slipping further away with every passing day. I pick at the edge of my napkin, Jared’s words replaying in my mind.Can we drop this for now?
The minutes tick by. I try to shake it off, telling myself it’s just a bad day. But deep down, a voice whispers:how many bad days does it take before it’s a bad relationship?
I glance at my phone, tempted to text him. To say something, anything, to smooth over the sharp edges of our conversation. But what’s the point? He won’t answer, or worse, he’ll send something short and perfunctory.
The idea makes my chest ache, but I push it aside, draining the rest of my coffee even though it’s cold. I force myself to focus on the game later, convincing myself we’ll be fine by then.
Chapter 36
Jared
We lost the game. Bad.
34–6.
The locker room feels like a tomb. No one speaks, the usual chatter and banter replaced by the sound of cleats scraping the floor and the occasional slam of a locker door. Coach’s speech after the game was short, his words cutting deeper because we all knew he was right.
I sit on the bench, staring at my hands, still wrapped in tape. My head pounds, a mix of exhaustion and frustration clawing at me. This wasn’t just a loss—it wasmyloss. I dropped two critical passes, both of which could’ve turned the game around.
“You good?” Troy’s voice breaks carefully through the silence.
I glance at him, then nod once. “Yeah. Just pissed.”
“Join the club.” He sits down beside me, running a towel over his face. “But hey, it’s one game. We’ll bounce back.”
I don’t respond, because it doesn’t feel like just one game. It feels like the kind of loss that hangs around, that sticks in your head no matter how hard you try to dodge it.
As the guys start filing out, I stay put, letting the room empty until it’s just me. My phone buzzes in my bag, but I ignore it. I already know it’s Alli. She’d been in the stands, cheering me on like always, but I can’t bring myself to face her right now.
She doesn’t deserve this version of me. The one who screws up when it matters, who can’t keep it together even when she’s trying so damn hard to be there for me when I’ve been brushing her off.
By the time I leave the locker room, the stadium’s empty. The cold bites at my skin as I step into the night, my bag hanging off one shoulder.
I pull out my phone and stare at the screen.
Alli:hi, you okay?
Alli:i’m here if you want to talk
My fingers hover over the keyboard, but I can’t bring myself to reply. With a sigh, I shove the phone into my pocket and start walking. The campus is loud around me, people rushing to get to wherever they’re going, but it feels like I’m invisible. The world moves around me, but no one notices. I’m everything when we win, but it’s the opposite tonight.
In what must’ve been an attempt to shake off tonight’s loss, the guys decided to throw a get-together at our shared apartment.
When I step inside, laughter and loud voices spill into the hallway, washing over me like a wave. The silence I’ve been holding onto feels louder than ever, the heaviness in my chest growing with each passing second. The thought of pretending to smile for anyone tonight feels impossible.
I shove the door open and step inside, greeted by the sight of Chase and Troy in the kitchen, cracking open beers. A couple of other teammates are sprawled on the couch, arguing over whose turn it is in a video game. The place reeks of beer and leftover pizza, and the noise is already deafening.
“Jared!” Chase spots me and grins, lifting a can in salute. “Figured you’d head straight to bed. Come on, man, grab a drink.”
I force a smile and shake my head. “Not tonight.”
“Aw, come on,” Troy says, leaning against the counter with a lazy smirk. “One beer won’t kill you.”
