Sloane glares at her. “Jade.”
Jade holds up her hands. “Leaving. I’m leaving.”
Blakely gives Sloane a small nod. “Text me.”
Then she walks away like she didn’t just witness the beginning of a scandal.
Sloane turns back to me, voice lower. “Can we go?”
“Yeah,” I say immediately.
We slip out of the gym and into the hallway, where it’s quieter, the noise muffled behind thick doors.
Sloane exhales hard, leaning against the wall for a beat like the adrenaline is leaving her body all at once.
“You did good,” I tell her.
She scoffs automatically. “Jade hit the shot.”
“You ran the whole game,” I say. “You did good.”
Sloane’s throat works.
She looks away like she hates that the words land. “Don’t get soft.”
“I’m not soft,” I say dryly. “I’m accurate.”
Sloane snorts quietly, then pushes off the wall. “Come on. Before someone asks me to take pictures.”
We make it outside.
The night air is cool, the parking lot lit by tall lamps that make everything feel slightly unreal.
At the car, Sloane pauses with her hand on the door handle.
She doesn’t get in.
Instead, she turns to me, eyes sharp but tired.
“Did he…?” she asks, voice rough. She doesn’t finish.
My throat burns.
“Yeah,” I say. “He’s home. He wanted you to focus. He…told me to be in his seat.”
Sloane’s eyes shine for a beat.
Then she swallows it down.
“I don’t like him sometimes,” she whispers.
I lift a brow. “For loving you?”
She glares. “For making me feel things.”
My chest tightens.
Sloane’s gaze drops to my shirt.
