CHAPTER 1
BECK
My head swivels as I walk into the Howlers Wrestling Club main floor, checking every face that files in for the first team meeting of the new season.
I push my bickering roommates to go find their seats and make my way over to the bleachers and my co-captains. I'm usually always early for a team meeting, almost pathologically so, but not today. It’s been a weird morning, and I’m feeling a little out of sorts.
I'm seeing things.
I have to be seeing things. But why is my brain conjuring a memory of someone I make a point to never think about? A memory I’ve buried deep, deep down.
"Bullshit you haven’t noticed!" Cade exclaims, stopping so abruptly I bump into his broad back. Shaken from my errant thoughts, I huff and shake my head, but my best friend ignores me and opens his arms, gesturing at his body like he’s presenting a damn trophy. "Beck, come on!"
I roll my eyes at the way he not-so-subtly flexes his biceps, eyes shifting between me and Fish with blatant desperation.
“Will you go sit down?” I say, nudging him towards the bleachers. “The meeting’s about to start.”
"I think the only thing that got bigger is your head," Fish says, smirking back at me as they head to a row of open seats, continuing to bicker.
Cade throws his hands up dramatically. I ignore them both. Especially Cade, who very clearly needs someone—anyone—to comment on the extra ten pounds of solid muscle he's packed on since the end of last season. He looks like he swallowed another smaller wrestler whole, but like the good friends we are, Fish and I are both pretending it's not noticeable. We won’t give him the satisfaction of feeding his cocky ego.
I give the room another once-over as a handful of unfamiliar faces settle into the bleachers. This year's freshmen, most likely.
Coach McCoy bursts into the room, ready to get the season started, loudly clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention. I’m not really paying attention, taking advantage of my vantage point as everyone takes a seat.
I’m still scanning the room for a head of wavy blond hair and broad shoulders when Sean, one of my co-captains, nudges my thigh. I snap my gaze to him, and then to Coach McCoy, who is staring at me like the idiot I am. Everyone else is sitting, waiting expectantly for Coach to start the orientation. But I’m still standing here like an idiot.
I sit quickly, cursing myself for being so ridiculous. I really am perfectly aware of how ridiculous I am. But even as Coach launches into his first pre-season speech, my mind is still preoccupied by the ghost I thought I saw yesterday. And then again this morning.
For my own peace of mind and sanity, I need to know who that actually was. Because if my brain is dragging memories of him up, of that day, that match, those humiliating minutes of my life that changed everything—then something in me is slipping.
Yesterday I thought I was crazy. It was only the briefest glimpse. A familiar stocky build making his way down the hall through the chaos that is move-in day in the athletic dorms. But it wasn’t just that. It was the set of his shoulders, wavy hair bouncing with each step. It was familiar enough to jar me, jolting something loose in my chest, my heart rate kicking up so fast I had to catch my breath. The person disappeared before I could recognize the spike of adrenaline for what it was. Fear. I brushed it off, believing my mind was playing tricks on me. The world isn’tthatsmall, after all.
Even knowing it couldn’t possibly be him, I’d dreamed of him last night anyway. My mind twisted the memory into an exaggerated version of events that were even worse than the reality. In the nightmare, I was naked, bare and exposed so there was no way to hide. Everyone could see my shame. They pointed and whispered, their laughter growing louder as he pinned me again and again and again, until I sat up in bed, panicked and sweating.
To make things worse, my already frazzled nerves got a jump start again this morning. While in line for the smoothie bar at the student union, I swear I saw him again, at the far end of the dining hall, in line to pay for the breakfast buffet. Light fell over his eerily familiar frame, catching on wavy golden hair from across the room.
I stepped out of line, heart slamming in my ribcage, walking towards him to get a better look, but Cade and his monstrous head and biceps had blocked my view. By the time I shoved himaside, the phantom was gone. I stood there, dazed and blinking, my brain feeling overloaded and spinning back to a day I’ve been trying to forget for over two years. I’ve been on edge ever since.
Walking into my first day as captain obsessing about the worst day of my life is not how I wanted to start the year. But here I am, acting like an idiot instead of focusing on the perfect image I’ve built for myself, the good life I’ve been clinging to, worrying that my life is about to crumble around me again over nothing but a memory.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to push back the barrage of memories that threaten my sanity, flinching when Sean nudges me again. He’s standing now, looking down at me like he’s concerned for my wellbeing. I’m not acting like myself.
For the past two years at Huntston University, I’ve been a model student and athlete. Always poised, always on my game, never slacking. Perfect. Polished. Controlled.
Despite that, it apparently takes nothing more than a memory to throw my carefully curated façade into a bin and set it on fire. This isn’t me. I can’t be losing it on my first day as a captain of this team.
Shaking it off, I mutter an excuse about having a headache, and turn around to acknowledge the team.
And immediately lock eyes with my worst nightmare.
This can’t be happening.
Everything comes flashing back all at once.
The embarrassment. The shock on the faces of my father and team. The terror of having to face them. The shame of losing insuch a spectacular fashion and being unable to explain myself. Even worse, the realization—or confirmation—of an internal struggle I’d always been able to overcome, until that one moment of weakness sent me into a spiral.
I’d walked into the last championship match of my high school career at the top of my game. I’d already been accepted to one of the most prestigious schools on the east coast, my father’s alma mater. And while I didn’t need the full-ride scholarship monetarily, it helped me win the approval of an extremely difficult to please man. I was number one in the country for my weight class, and my victory that day, in my mind, was all but guaranteed. After fighting so hard to get to where all the pieces of my carefully choreographed life were falling neatly into place, I was ready to bask in my glory and move on to the next phase of my perfect life.
