Austen flinched.It was small—a blink, a slight recoil—but I saw it.
My dad laughed, clapping me on the back.“Well, tell him you’re busy.We’re celebrating.Big leagues, Luke.Focus.”
He steered me around.He physically turned me away from Austen.
“Come on,” Dad said.“Car’s out front.”
I took a step.I let him move me.
I glanced back over my shoulder.
Austen wasn’t looking at me anymore.He was looking at the floor, at the trophy case, at anything but me.He turned around.
He pushed through the exit doors and walked out into the cold.
I didn’t chase him.
I got in my father’s car.
Chapter 33
Game Misconduct
Austen
I didn’t go back to the dorm immediately.
I walked.I walked until the cold numbed my face and the wind off the creek dried the humiliating dampness in my eyes.I walked until I could treat the last hour as an error message rather than a memory.
Fact: Luke had played a perfect game.
Fact: His father had arrived with a scout.
Fact: When presented with the choice between his father’s approval and my dignity, Luke had chosen the former.Fast.
Without a flinch.
I’m only his roommate.
The variables were run repeatedly in a search for a different outcome, a mitigating factor.None were found.The equation was balanced, and the result was zero.
Stony Creek Hall accepted my keycard at 11:15 p.m., the beep echoing in the deserted lobby.
Upstairs, Room 317 sat dark and silent.A relief.
The overhead light clicked on, washing the space in harsh artificial brightness.
Me:I need to get out of here.Can I stay with you?
Maya:Of course, what’s going on?
Me:I’ll explain when I see you.Be there in thirty.
From the closet, the duffel bag was retrieved.Essentials were packed with mechanical efficiency: toiletry bag, chargers, clothes for a few days.The zipper hissed shut just as the door opened.
Luke stumbled in.He was still wearing the nice jeans and the button-down shirt he’d worn to dinner, but he looked wrecked.His hair was wind-blown, his eyes wild.He smelled of expensive steakhouse and alcohol.
He saw the bag on my bed and froze.
