She didn’t argue. Didn’t push. Didn’t ask for more. She just… moved on. Maybe she’s with Dane. I press my lips together, clenching my jaw. The thought makes me wild.
The win feels smaller now. Not hollow but sharp around the edges, like it’s cutting into something it shouldn’t be touching.
I lean back against the headboard and close my eyes.
I played well tonight. I did exactly what Coach asked, what the team needed.
And still.
My chest tightens, and I press my palm against it like that might help. I think about the bench last night. The way it felt watching from the outside. The way I promised myself Saturday would make everything click back into place.
It didn’t.
I didn’t lose my game because of her.
I didn’t fail my classes because of her.
And running away and ignoring her didn’t protect anything.
It just made everything quieter.
I sit here longer than I should, phone in my hand, thumb hovering over her name again. I could type something. Anything. I could say I played well. I could say I’m sorry. I could tell her why I left abruptly, knowing Dane was at her house.
I don’t.
Instead, I lock my phone and set it back down on the nightstand.
The room feels too big without the noise.
I lie back and stare at the ceiling, replaying the moment the puck hit the net, the way the bench erupted, the way it felt to be needed.
I wanted to prove to myself that I was right. She’s a distraction I can’t afford.
But did I? I think I just proved the opposite.
This is what I meant to avoid. This empty, quiet, heavy feeling that’s impossible to ignore.
28
Cecily
The ocean waves roll in slowly and steadily, white foam crawling up the sand every so often. I crouch low, camera angled just right, tracking the way the morning light hits Will’s shoulders as he turns.
“Hold that,” I say, stepping back.
He does. Easy. Professional. No questions.
The shutter clicks again and again. The light is perfect. Soft. Clean.
We wrap quickly. Will thanks me, heads off, and I sit in my car, my phone in hand. My notifications have been going off.
Alix’s name fills the screen.
Paragraphs. Missed notifications stacked on top of each other. I scroll.
Alix: I’ve been texting you nonstop, and you’re ignoring me.
Alix: Dane told me everything. Are you seriously still screwing Dylan? I don’t understand you sometimes. Do you like him?
