It hit me then…how much I hated myself. How everything with him was a punishment I kept giving myself. Every glance that didn’t land, every smile meant for someone else, it was like pressing on a bruise just to feel it ache. And I did it again and again, because maybe that ache was the only thing that made me feel real.
The thought lodged in my chest, raw and ugly. I stood there, surrounded by people who didn’t notice me, either, wondering how I’d ended up like this—building my whole world around someone who didn’t even know my name. I’d spent so long convincing myself it was love, but maybe it was something else. Maybe it was just loneliness wearing a prettier mask.
Still, a dark piece of me wanted him to find out. I wanted him to catch me watching, to see everything I’d tried to hide. I wanted him to get angry, to shoutWhat the fuck is wrong with you?—because at least then, I’d be real to him.
At least then, I wouldn’t be invisible.
At least then, I’d be seen.
Maybe anger would be better than invisibility.
Maybe being hated would hurt less than being nothing at all.
And maybe the worst part was knowing that, even after realizing all this, I’d still be back here on Wednesday. Same bench. Same time.Same ache.
MATTY
The call came in just as I was walking across campus to my next class, worrying about the fact that my Sphinx trials hadn’t even started yet and both Parker and Jace were already done with theirs. What did that even mean?
The late-morning sun was warm on my shoulders, my backpack digging into one side, and I was half listening to the chatter around me when my phone buzzed in my hand. I glanced down at the screen, expecting a text from the guys or a reminder about an assignment, but it was a call.
Dad.
Just that. No emojis. No “Pops” or “Old Man” saved in the contact. Just three letters and dread was settling heavy in my gut the second it lit up.
I wiped my hands on my jeans, my heart kicking up a notch as I stared at the name.
It rang again.
“Let it go to voicemail,” I told myself.
But some part of me still wanted to believe…maybe this time would be different.
I hit accept.
“Hey,” I said, lifting the phone to my ear.
“There he is. My big shot. My all-American. You got time to talk to your old man, or are you too busy signing autographs and bathing in money?”
His voice came through like a punch. Rough, tired, and a little too fast.
And just like that, I could see him. Clear as day. Reclining on that ratty armchair in the den that he always swore he was going to replace but never did. A beer sweating on the side table. TheTV casting blue shadows over his face. Half watching a game. Half scheming. Always half something.
“So, tell me, Matty, how much did that new NIL deal really put in your pocket? Bet it’s more than I make in a few years.”
There it was. The signal. The real reason for the call.
The only reason he ever called, actually. Why I was still disappointed…I’d never understand.
I exhaled through my nose, shifting my backpack higher on my shoulder. “What do you need?”
“Straight to it, then, huh? Not even a how’ve you been?”
“You only call when you need something, Dad. I’m just trying to save us both time,” I responded sarcastically.
A pause crackled over the line. Then, a forced chuckle. “Alright. Fair. You’re a grown man now, I get it. But since you’re asking, yeah, I could use a little help. My car broke down?—”
I stopped outside the building where my next class was and leaned against the brick wall, my jaw tightening. “You already told me that. The last time I sent money, you said it was for the car.”
