My pulse goes careening.
WREN
It’s just tutoring, O’Connor
KIERAN
Sure it is, Rules
See you at seven
I stare at the messages until my screen goes dark, then stand there in the cold, trying to remember why I wanted Theo in the first place. Trying to remember when steel blue and silver started to feel safer than sage green.
Trying to remember the last time I was this terrified of something I might actually want.
14
GAME NIGHT (KIERAN)
She looks completely lost.
Lost isn’t even the right word. She’s holding herself at the edge of the flow, calculating distances, scanning exits. Like she’s trying to solve the hallway the way she solves a problem set—find the variables, control the outcome.
My chest tightens. I know that posture. I wear it when I’m waiting for a hit.
Even from halfway down the hall, I can see her hovering by the Authorized Personnel Only sign, hoodie zipped to her chin, backpack clutched to her chest. Too small for this space. Too exposed.
Something in me shifts. Protective. Sharp.
“Rules,” I call.
Her head snaps up. Relief flickers, then nerves crash back in. “I think I’m in the wrong?—”
“You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”
I close the distance before she can second-guess herself. The jersey is draped over my arm, my number facing out. I hadn’t planned it. Not consciously.
I should be thinking about the game. Instead, I’mthinking about how I want everyone to stop looking at her like she doesn’t belong.
Her eyes drop to the jersey. “You want me to wear this?”
Yes.
The answer lands fast and instinctive, before I can dress it up as anything else.
“That’s the deal,” I say instead, holding it out. “Friends and family sit behind the bench. You’ll fit right in.”
She hesitates. “It’s huge.”
“It’ll look good on you.”
Because it’ll be mine.
“It’s going to swallow me.”
“That’s the point.” I grin, too fast. “Everyone will know you’re with me.”
The words land wrong. Too honest.
