Practice.
Matty’s practice.
The thought sliced through me like glass. I’d never missed one before. Not once. Every day I’d been there in that parking lot.
And today I’d missed it.
“Ophelia,” my mom said sharply, dragging me back. “Are you listening to me?”
“Yeah,” I whispered. My chest ached. “I’m listening.”
“You need to take this seriously. You’re lucky they even approved your enrollment after you lied. You can’t afford to mess up.”
Her voice kept going, a steady stream of warnings and frustration, but I barely heard any of it. My body felt too heavy, my head thick and slow. I pressed the phone tighter to my ear, tears sliding silently down my cheeks.
“I know,” I said when she finally paused for breath. “I’ll do better.”
“You need to,” she said flatly. “This is all up to you not to mess it up like you have everything else in your life. Do you understand me?”
“I understand.”
The words scraped out of me, quiet and automatic, the way they always did when she spoke to me like that. Agree, appease, survive. My chest felt tight, but I didn’t let her hear it in my voice. I just stared at the dark space where my shrine used to be, the torn tape still clinging to the paint like scars.
She hung up a second later, leaving nothing but silence. I sat there, my phone still pressed against my ear and her words echoing in my head.Like you have everything else in your life.
The room got dark, the silence pressing down on me until it felt like the air itself was heavy. I lowered my arm, and my phone screen dimmed and went black, leaving only my reflection staring back—puffy eyes, red nose, the faint imprint of my pillow still on my cheek.
I tried to push aside what my mother had said by reminding myself that missing practice wasgood. It meant I was breaking the pattern. I’d done the unthinkable—I’d missed him. For the first time since I’d set foot on this campus, I hadn’t watched him walk out on that field. I hadn’t memorized every movement, every smile, every pass.
Maybe that was progress.
Maybe it meant I could change.
I drew my knees to my chest, resting my chin on top. The room felt bigger now, emptier, like even the shadows werekeeping their distance. I tried to focus on my breathing. In. Out. In. Out. I could do this.
I didn’t need him to exist. I could stop.
Tomorrow, I’d get up early. I’d go to class. I’d answer Dr. Whitaker’s call and tell her what she wanted to hear. I’d eat breakfast in the cafeteria instead of in my car. I’d sit in the quad with a book that I’d actually read.
I’d start living for myself.
The words felt fragile, almost laughable, but I held on to them anyway. Because I couldn’t give my mother the satisfaction of being right. I wouldn’t let her drag me home and lock me back behind those whitewashed walls that still smelled like lemon and pity.
I wouldn’t give her a chance to make good on her threats.
I’d be better. I’dgetbetter.
I whispered it to myself, over and over, until the words lost meaning and became something else—a vow, a prayer, a plea.
But when I finally closed my eyes, all I could see was the field.
And him.
CHAPTER 6
MATTY
Sweat slicked the back of my neck as I pushed through another sprint, lungs burning, legs on fire. Parker was jawing at the O-line, Jace was laughing at something no one else thought was funny, and Coach blew his whistle in frustration.
