And yet, a small part of me wonders.
What if Hayes hadn’t pulled away and made me feel so disposable? If I hadn’t spent the past few weeks feeling like I’d been quietly erased from his life? Maybe I wouldn’t have gone looking for proof that I still mattered, or needed someone else to make me feel like I belonged.
But then I shake my head, the anger collapsing as quickly as it flared.
I’m not a child. I know the difference between responsibility and blame. I can own the fact that I putmyself in a risky situation. That was my choice, not Hayes’s.
And what happened after my terrible judgment wasn’t Hayes’s fault, either. Or mine. The only person responsible for that line being crossed is Dylan.
“I didn’t mean for any of that to happen last night,” I say. “And I’m sorry you got in a fistfight with your teammate.”
“Don’t apologize for that.” His lips press into a thin line. “Dylan’s a fucking asshole. He had it coming.”
I set the water bottle down on the counter, my throat tightening.
“Yeah, probably.” I swallow. “I just wanted to have fun for once. I never should’ve kissed him. I know that. But he was being so nice. He was paying attention to me, and it felt really good to have someone pay attention to me for once. And I?—”
I trail off.
Saying it out loud makes it sound even worse, more pathetic. Needier somehow. Shame coils tight in my chest, and I feel stupid for admitting that part to him.
“Don’t do that.” His whole body goes taut, like a wire pulled too tight. “You havenothingto feel bad about,”he says, voice edged with something quietly furious and protective.“That bastard is the only one to blame.”
There’s a rawness in him now, something wild flickering behind his eyes. The same fury I saw last night, barely restrained, and somehow just asferocious even in daylight. It’s not aimed at me. I know that Hayes would never hurt me. But it still rattles something deep inside me.
“This wasn’t your fault. You did nothing wrong,” he says, softer now, like he’s anchoring the words in place for me. “Not one fucking thing.”
“Yeah, I know that.” I nod, slowly. “But I wasn’t thinking straight either. I just… I wasn’t myself.”
“You don’t have to be perfect to not get assaulted, Al.” His voice breaks a little on my name. “God, I hate that I wasn’t there sooner.” He drags a hand through his hair, the motion rough with frustration. “Are you sure you’re okay? Really okay? Just say the word and I’ll gladly break his other arm for you.”
I try for a smile, but it doesn’t quite land.
“You don’t need to worry about me,” I say. “And definitely no need to maim Dylan in my honor or anything.”
Though, truth be told, I didn’t exactly hate seeing Dylan’s smug, sleazy little face get flattened last night. Wouldn’t cry if it happened again, either.
But I’m not about to tell Hayes that and pour gasoline on his already fiery temper. He could get in serious trouble with the school and the team. No matter how good it felt to see Dylan get what he deserved last night, I would never risk Hayes blowing up his future because of me.
“You sure?” he asks.
“Positive.”
He gives me a long, hard look. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“I’m not?—”
“If you say you’re fine, I’ll let it go.” He cuts me off with a raised hand. “But, Al… you’ve got to be more careful. I saw you doing shots with him, and I get it, you were just trying to have fun. But Dylan isn’t a guy to play games with. You know what he’s like.”
“Yeah, I know?—”
“And he won’t be the last asshole who tries something like that, either,” he says, and something heavier settles behind his words. “You’ve got to be smarter than that. I won’t always be around to save you. I need to know you’ll make better choices, ones that’ll keep you safe.”
I stiffen, my spine going rigid.
“I don’t need a lecture, Hay,” I snap, fists curling in my lap. I know he means well, but I don’t need anyone—not even Hayes—treating me like I’m some helpless damsel in need of rescuing. “I can take care of myself. I earned that green belt in karate, remember?”
He snorts, unimpressed.
