"They spoke to Coach after," Leon continues, excitement lighting up his face. "You don't talk to Coach after a game unless you're interested."
"They talk to Coach all the time," Justin replies evenly.
"Not like that."
I stare at the smear of jam on my plate.
Leon grins suddenly, looking to me. "And sorry about the party running late last night. Didn't realise half the campus would show."
I raise a brow at him. Since when has half the campus not shown? "It's fine,"
He nods once, satisfied.
"Asher didn't even turn up," Leon adds, almost as an afterthought. "Which is weird. He's usually always there after a win."
Justin makes that same quiet hum again.
I feel it then.
His eyes.
On me.
I don't look up at first.
I can feel the weight of it though - the way he pieces things together without saying them out loud.
Leon keeps talking.
"Coach was in a good mood though. That's a first. Especially cause we fucked up the play."
Justin doesn't respond this time.
I force myself to glance up.
He's already looking at me.
One eyebrow lifts.
Not accusing.
Just knowing.
My stomach tightens.
Asher didn't go.
Of course he didn't. He was with me. At the arena, in the locker room. Then later when I snuck him into my room through the same window he'd snuck through all those weeks ago.
Nobody even noticed when he snuck back out this morning.
I drop my gaze back to my plate.
Push the toast once. Twice.
Charlotte's face flashes in my mind, a perfect reflection of the betrayal painted on her features last night.
The chair legs scrape loudly against the floor before I even realise I'm standing.
