ONE
NOELLE
“Noelle is oblivious. Still.”
Bree’s whisper slides through the bathroom like oil on water—slick, deliberate.
I freeze midstream in the stall, heart stuttering as my brain scrambles for context.Oblivious to what?My pulse roars in my ears, loud enough that I’m sure they can hear it. Because deep down, I already know exactly who they’re talking about.
Brooks.
My boyfriend.
For over a year.
How could I be so naïve?
The ache in my chest is so intense that I know they can hear me breathing. Renee chimes in, almost sympathetic. “I don’t know why Brooks stays with her if he has sex with other people. Why not just break it off and play the field?”
My teammates’ laughter comes next, the arch in Bree’s voice and Renee’s rolling giggle stabbing me in the back as they dissect my life in a bathroom.
I should come out swinging from this stall. Say something cutting and clever, snap the way I do at home when my youngest brother, Witt, forgets to pick up the dog poop in the backyard and I’m the one who steps in it.
At home, with my family, I have an edge and humor and can whip up just the right words to make them laugh at exactly the right moment. Here, with girls like Bree and Renee, I’m always searching for the version of myself that fits in.
Holding my breath, I just listen.
“Noelle is too pure…too good.” Bree says it like it’s an insult. “Brooks is bored and just wants to have some fun, if you know what I mean.” I can’t see her, but I bet her eyebrows are wiggling. “Tabby actually knows what she’s doing.”
My stomach does an airplane barrel roll. Bored.
A pause. A girlish giggle that sounds sorry, almost.
“Her brothers are football legends. It’s all about connections,” Renee offers a snarky take on why Brooks hasmefor a girlfriend.
I peek through the slit in the stall, and something inside me hardens. There’s nothing left in their tone but spite and that desperate need to be interesting by torching someone else’s life.
And they’re throwing the match on me and my life.
The bathroom is silent, but my ears are roaring, the blood pounding so hard behind my eyes I barely hear the door creak when I open it. Their heads pop in my direction. Their eyes land on me—wide, guilty, only a little sorry.
I square my shoulders, wishing I were anywhere but here. “How long?” I say, my voice small, too high. Not the voice I use at home. Not reallyme.
Bree just rolls her eyes. Renee looks like she may feel sorry for me as they both open their mouths to defend the gossip spewing from their mouths.
“Don’t,” I say quickly, holding up a hand as if that’s enough to keep their words away. “I don’t need your sympathy when you’re spreading rumors or…truths. I just need?—”
I break off, tears stinging. God, in front of them. Of course. I wipe my cheeks with the side of my hand.
Bree looks away, pretending she’s not jealous of Tabby and me. Bree would do anything to get her hands on Brooks. Her words come out razor-sharp. “Months, Noelle. Tabby has been riding his cock for months.”
Renée moves, takes a step, uncertain. “Noelle, I’m?—”
“Don’t,” I snap, tears threatening to pour. Their false concern makes me want to throw a softball as hard as I can into their guts because that’s what I feel like. Like I’ve been gut-punched.
Crying at home is one thing, with Greyson teasing me and tossing me a Nerf ball to shut me up, or Dad making dumb faces until I snort-laugh. But with these girls, it’s pure ammunition.
A weakness.
