A ghost of a smile creeps onto my face before I can stop it.
God, the number of times that boy got himself sent to the principal's office because of me... I lost count.
Every time someone called me names or laughed too loud in my direction, he was already throwing punches. His parentswere on a first-name basis with the school secretary because of how often they got called in.
He only stopped using his fists when hockey was on the line — the coaches warned him that if he kept fighting, they'd bench him, maybe even kick him off the team. You'd think that would've scared him straight, but no.
He didn't give a damn about hockey if it meant letting people treat me like garbage.Reckless idiot.
Of course, I couldn't let him keep doing that forever.
I didn't want him risking his entire future just because some idiot couldn't keep his mouth shut. So, I begged him to stop, wore him down. Eventually he listened — sort of.
Once he made captain, he just swapped fists for power. He ran those guys into the ground at practice instead. Drills until they puked, laps until their legs gave out.
God, he was a menace.Mymenace.
"So you two aren't friends anymore?"
I snap out of my thoughts and look up at Adam. "What?"
"You saidformerbest friend. Which means... not anymore?"
I purse my lips, glance away, and let out a slow sigh. "Yeah. Something happened before graduation, and we sort of drifted apart."
Drifted apart. Ha. That makes it sound gentle, like we just floated off in different directions. More like our friendship went down faster than a ship in the Bermuda Triangle — swallowed up, lost without a trace.
And honestly? Digging it back up feels just as terrifying as that cursed stretch of ocean.
Adam leans back in his chair, wiping his mouth with a napkin, eyes narrowing just slightly.
"So... you and Zach. You guys working things out now? Looked like it earlier."
I nod, though it's slower than I mean it to be. "Yeah. That's the plan."
He studies me for a beat, forehead creasing. "You don't sound sure."
Of course he'd notice.
"If you don't mind me asking... what happened between you two?"
I freeze for half a second, sushi halfway to my mouth.
It feels... weird. Too personal.
And normally, I'd deflect, crack a joke, keep it surface-level. But for some reason — maybe it's the sunlight streaming in, maybe it's Adam's annoyingly steady gaze — the words start coming out.
So, I tell him. Not everything, obviously.
I leave out the part where Zach once blurted out that he's never... you know. Donethat.(Seriously, he said it with a straight face, like some kind of boy-scout badge of honor.)
Do I actually believe him? Debatable.
The guy's practically Ridgewater royalty; half the campus has probably tried to throw themselves at him. But still — not my secret to spill.
By the time I finish, Adam just blows out a long breath, his cheeks puffing, eyes practically bulging like he's trying to process it all.
"Damn," he says finally. "That was a very bad case of a clusterfuck."
