Ethan stands beside me, hands shoved into his pockets. “Better?”
“Yeah,” I admit quietly.
He looks at me, smile gentler. “You play like you’re angry.”
I blink. “What?”
“Basketball,” he clarifies. “You play like you’re mad at the world.”
The words hit too close. I swallow.
“Maybe I am,” I mutter.
Ethan nods like that makes sense. “Fair.”
We stand there for a moment, the fire crackling, music muffled through the walls. For the first time all day, my shoulders loosen an inch.
Then the back door opens again.
And my world tilts.
Logan steps outside.
Hoodie. Beanie. Brace. One crutch.
He pauses like the cold hits him, then his gaze sweeps the yard?—
And finds me.
The eye contact is immediate. Sharp. Familiar.
Like being seen by someone who knows exactly where to aim.
My stomach drops. Heat rushes through my chest.
Logan’s face goes still for half a second.
Then something dark flickers in his eyes.
Jealousy.
Not soft. Not romantic. Not cute.
The same kind that burned through him freshman year.
My throat tightens.
Ethan follows my line of sight and glances back. “You know him?”
I don’t answer fast enough.
Logan’s jaw clenches as he takes a single step forward. Then another.
His crutch taps the ground, loud in the quiet outside. The movement draws attention. A few people glance over.
Logan doesn’t care. He’s looking at me like the rest of the world is just static.
My pulse hammers.
