I shot him a look. “Didn’t go nuclear. Just told him to look up from his damn reflection once in a while.”
Adam let out a low whistle. “Subtle. And here I thought you were trying to clean up your image.”
I shoved my gear into my locker, hoping he’d take the hint. He didn’t. He never did.
“You really like this girl, huh?” he asked.
I froze for half a second before forcing a laugh. “She’s not mine.”
“Didn’t say she was,” Adam said, tone easy, teasing but not cruel. “Just that you like her.”
“Drop it.”
He raised both hands, smirk still firmly in place. “Fine. For now.”
He wandered off to bother someone else, leaving me alone with the echo of that for now.
I sat down on the bench, elbows on my knees, trying to shake off the conversation. It shouldn’t have gotten under my skin. Adam teased everyone—it was practically a sport for him. But the thing was, he wasn’t wrong.
And I hated that he wasn’t wrong.
Ellery had been stuck in my head for days. Not because she was flawless or sweet or any of the usual clichés. No, she was infuriating. Sharp as glass, stubborn as hell, and too damn earnest for her own good. The kind of person who believed in things long after the world stopped giving her reasons to.
That kind of belief was contagious—and dangerous.
By the time I showered and headed out, my phone was buzzing again. Unknown number at first glance, but I knew who it was before I picked up.
“Beckett?” Her voice. A little breathless, like she’d been moving around. “The sponsors—how did you?—”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“No, seriously,” she pressed. “You replaced a fifty-thousand-dollar deal overnight. That’s—how?”
I rubbed a hand over my face, leaning against the wall of the hallway outside the locker room. “Told you not to thank me till it was done.”
She went quiet, and for a second, all I could hear was her breathing. Soft. Measured. Trying to find the right words.
“You really didn’t have to do this,” she said finally, her voice low.
“Yeah, I did.”
It slipped out before I could stop it.
There was a pause on the line—long enough that I could feel the weight of everything I wasn’t supposed to be thinking. The way she’d looked when she thought no one was watching. The sound of her laugh when she forgot to be guarded. The way she made me want to be better without ever asking me to.
I could hear the words forming on her end, gratitude or something worse—something warm. I wasn’t ready for either.
So I ended the call. Just like that.
The screen went dark, and I stared at my reflection in it. My jaw was tight, eyes shadowed.
If Adam saw me now, he’d never let me live it down. You really like this girl, huh?
Maybe.
But it didn’t matter. Liking someone didn’t mean anything good came from it.
I shoved the phone in my pocket and pushed off the wall, heading out toward the parking lot. The evening air hit cold and clean against my face.
