It’s not loud praise. It’s not performative. It lands like something warm and heavy in my chest.
“Yeah?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
She nods. “You look…different out there.”
I tilt my head. “Different how?”
She hesitates, then says the word like she means it. “Confident, pretty calm. And certain. Like you know what to do, regardless of what the other team does.”
The compliment hits deeper than it should. She’s not trying to feed my ego; she’s just seeingme, not the jersey.
I take a step closer, stopping short of her space. Close enough to feel her warmth, far enough to give her room.
“You okay?” I ask.
She nods. “Yeah. Being here was good.”
My throat tightens. I lift my hand slowly, brushing my knuckles against the sleeve of Kai’s jersey. Just fabric. Still, my body goes hyperaware. Harlow’s breath stutters like she feels it too. The moment stretches thin and electric. My gaze flicks to her mouth before I can stop it.
Then I hear Kai’s voice—sharp and familiar—cutting through everything.
“Harlow.”
She flinches. The spell breaks. I step back immediately, hands dropping to my sides like I didn’t just almost do something reckless.
Kai turns toward us, eyes sharp. “You ready?”
Harlow nods, but her eyes flick back to mine once—apologetic, wanting, unresolved.
I hold her gaze.
Soon, I think.
Not out loud.
Not yet.
She walks away with Kai, swallowed by the hallway traffic. I stand there longer than I should, chest still humming with the echo of her breath catching.
This isn’t a slow burn anymore.
This is restraint.
And restraint is starting to feel like a dare.
At home, the apartment is quiet as I drop my keys on the kitchen counter and head toward my room.
Kai and Harlow were making a stop at the store on the way home and aren’t back yet, so I hop in the shower, letting the water beat down until the sweat and adrenaline rinse off, standing under the stream longer than I need to, palms flat against the cold tile, head dropped forward. The spray hammers the back of my neck, my shoulders, the space between my shoulder blades where tension lives like a permanent resident.
But it doesn’t touch the restlessness I feel.
Because the second I close my eyes, I see her, Harlow in Kai’s jersey, hands at her mouth, smile peeking through, as if the joy caught her off guard and she didn’t have time to hide it. The wrong name on her shoulders, the right look in her eyes. That moment when her eyes met mine, as if she felt my stare and knew exactly where to look.
I turn the water colder, but it doesn’t help.
I sit on the edge of my bed, towel around my waist, hair still dripping, staring at my phone like it’s going to buzz with an answer to all my problems, but the screen stays dark. The forum icon sits there like a door I’ve used too often, a place that used to feel safe, like shouting into a void that shouted back just enough to take the edge off.
I can’t open it tonight.
