I jogged up the steps two at a time, rain still misting down like the sky couldn’t decide if it wanted to cry or not. My hoodie clung to my shoulders, and my sneakers squeaked on the stairs. I didn’t care.
When the door opened, she looked like she’d seen a ghost.
Barefaced, hair pulled back, wearing some oversized college tee like she hadn’t planned on seeing anyone. Her mouth parted like she was going to speak, but the words didn’t come fast enough.
“Hi,” she said, quiet. Hesitant.
I didn’t wait for an invitation.
I stepped inside, brushing past her with more frustration than finesse. “You don’t get to disappear,” I said, turning to face her in the middle of the room. “Not after that.”
She closed the door slowly. Didn’t look at me right away. Just stood there, fingers curled around the handle like it might ground her.
I took a breath and tried to calm the edge in my voice.
“You think you get to just… leave me with that? No call, no text. Nothing.”
Her shoulders rose with a shaky breath, but she still didn’t speak.
“I know you’re scared, Daphne,” I said. “But so am I. And I’m still here.”
“It was a mistake,” she said.
Just four words—and they cracked through the air like a gunshot. For a second, I just stood there, blinking, as if I hadn’t heard her right. As if she hadn’t just taken the most raw, vulnerable, unforgettable night of my life and tossed it into the trash with the casual flick of a match.
My expression didn’t break with sadness.
It split with fury.
“No,” I said quietly. “Try again.”
She flinched. “Kieren?—”
“Don’t do that. Don’t lie to me and pretend it didn’t mean anything. Don’t pretend you didn’t want it just as badly as I did.”
“I didn’t say that?—”
“You said it was a mistake,” I snapped. “That’s not just semantics, Daph. That’s erasure. That’s pretending like last night wasn’t the most real fucking thing I’ve felt in years.”
Her jaw clenched, but her voice didn’t soften. “You don’t understand. If anyone finds out—if even a whisper of this gets out—I could lose my job. My reputation. Everything I’ve worked for. We're faking it. But that was?—"
“So?” I shot back, voice low but venomous. “Then I’ll quit.”
She stared at me like I’d lost my damn mind.
“I will,” I said. “If me being on that field means you have to pretend this never happened, then I’ll walk. I’ll hand in my cleats, walk out of that stadium, and never look back. Just say the word.”
“Are you insane?”
“I’m not the one pretending I don’t care.”
She looked like she wanted to scream. “It’s not about caring, Kieren. It’s about surviving in a world that chews women up for rumors like this. You think they’ll believe I didn’t seduce you? That I didn’t use my position to manipulate you?”
I shook my head. “I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks.”
“Well, I do!” she exploded, stepping back like she needed distance to breathe. “I have to. Because I’m not you. I don’t get second chances. And then what? What happens when it's done? Because there's an expiration date on the fake relationship, remember?"
The words landed hard.
