My throat tightens, and I swallow hard. “Even after everything?”
He nods, then lies back again, eyes back on the stars. “Especially after everything.”
We don’t say anything else for a long time. And when I close my eyes, it’s not the house or the music or the crowd that lingers. It’s the familiar scent of cinnamon gum and feeling of Damien’s pinky brushing mine in the grass.
We don’t say anything more, and still, I don’t move my hand.
Neither does he.
Noah
Thepoolalwaysfeelsquieter after practice ends, even with the echo of water dripping from the lanes and the sound of laughter bouncing off tile walls. The rest of the team filters out slowly, their voices blending with the squeak of rubber soles and the hiss of the showers turning on.
This is usually my favorite part of the day—those few minutes of quiet where no one’s watching, no one’s talking, and I can just exist without having to keep up the version of me everyone expects.
I stay in the water until the clock on the wall hits five. Then I climb out, grab my towel, and sit on the edge for a while, letting the droplets roll down my arms. My reflection stares back from the surface, faint and distorted, and for a second, I wish I could look at myself the way other people seem to—without flinching.
When the ache in my shoulders finally catches up, I stand, towel slung around my neck, and head toward the locker room. Most of the guys have already cleared out. The smell of chlorineand body wash hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the damp warmth of too many showers running at once.
I dry off as best I can, change into clean sweats and my hoodie, and shove my wet gear into my bag. I’ll shower at the house later, once everyone’s too busy with practice or dinner to notice. That’s my routine. It works. It keeps things simple.
Or at least, it did. Because when I step out of the locker room, Sage is leaning against the wall with a smirk pulling at his lips, and next to him is Nate.
The combination of the two of them waiting outside the locker room door makes me stop dead.
“Hey, Bluebird!” Sage calls out, bright and too casual for the setting. “Finally. You’re slower than Luca on a treadmill after leg day.”
I blink, still dripping slightly. “What are you doing here?”
“Field trip,” Sage says. “We’re kidnapping you for some alone time.”
That makes me blanch, and I sputter, “W-what?”
“You heard me,” he says, pushing off the wall. “Nate and I decided you need to stop being a ghost and join the land of the living. We’re grabbing food, and you’re coming.”
I glance between them, my bag strap tightening in my grip. “I can’t. I was just going to—”
“Hide in your room again?” Sage finishes for me, his tone too smooth to be a guess.
I frown. “I wasn’t hiding.”
“Right,” he says, clearly not believing me. “You look thrilled at the idea of social interaction, though.”
Nate rocks on his heels, hands in his pockets. “Come on, Noah. He’s not giving you a choice. Just say yes. It’ll be easier.”
I hesitate. The truth is, I don’t want to go anywhere. After two hours in the water, I’m exhausted. I just want a shower, a hoodie, and quiet. But Sage looks like he’ll drag me out by the arm if hehas to, and the last thing I need is Luca finding out I refused his boyfriend’s offer to “bond.”
I sigh. “Fine. Can we at least stop at the house first? I need to shower.”
“Perfect,” Sage says, already grinning. “We’ll drive.”
Before I can protest, he loops an arm through mine and steers me toward the parking lot. Nate follows, quiet and watchful, the corner of his mouth twitching.
The late afternoon air hits cold and sharp when we step outside. The sky’s starting to dim, streaks of orange fading into gray. We reach Sage’s car—a sleek black convertible that doesn’t fit his thrift-store vibe—and he gestures for me to get in.
I hesitate. “I should probably—”
“Nope,” Sage cuts in, opening the door for me. “You should probably stop overthinking everything for five minutes. Nate will drive your car back to the house.”
