And I realized that was what bothered me most.
Not the fact that she was with someone else. Not the teasing or the rules I’d be breaking if I ever crossed a line.
It was that she looked at him the way no one had ever looked at me.
Like he wasn’t a mess she had to fix. Like she already trusted him not to let her down.
I dragged my hand down my face, muttering a curse under my breath.
The guys could tease all they wanted, call it tension or competition or whatever made sense to them.
But deep down, I knew the truth.
I wasn’t angry because Kyle was her boyfriend.
I was angry because part of me wished he wasn’t.
Kyle’s laugh cut through the field — that confident, easy sound that always came before a headline or a win. I’d heard it a hundred times before, from press conferences to locker rooms, but for some reason, it grated more today.
Ellery laughed too — softer, quieter. The kind of laugh that wasn’t for cameras or crowds. She touched his arm lightly, just a small brush of her fingers. Nothing inappropriate. Nothing I should’ve noticed.
But I did.
And then, like some cruel joke, she glanced up — straight at me.
For a split second, our eyes met. Hers widened just a little, like she hadn’t expected to find me watching. I should’ve looked away first. Should’ve had the decency to act like I didn’t care.
But she was the one who looked away.
And it hit harder than I wanted it to.
She’s allowed to touch him, I told myself. She’s supposed to touch him. That’s what you do when you love someone.
So why did it feel like a kick to the ribs every damn time she did?
Kyle checked his watch, oblivious to everything except his next step toward greatness. “Gotta hit the gym before the scouts show up,” he said. Then, with that easy grin, “You’ll handle the rest, right?”
Ellery smiled — polite, automatic. “Yeah, of course.”
The words shouldn’t have hit as hard as they did, but they did. Every time she said of course, it sounded like resignation. Like she’d learned not to expect more.
My jaw locked. I tried to focus on the drills, on anything but the way she stood there, clipboard hugged to her chest like a shield.
Kyle jogged off, waving to a few of the guys, already laughing about something else before he even cleared the gate.
Ellery bent down to start gathering cones and nets by herself. No one offered to help — not that she’d ask. She’d do what she always did: hold the whole damn world together while everyone else moved on.
“Of course he leaves,” I muttered under my breath.
I should’ve stayed where I was. Should’ve minded my own business.
But watching her kneel in the grass, sleeves rolled up, hair slipping from its clip — something in me just moved before my brain could stop it.
I tossed my towel aside and started walking toward her.
Each step felt heavier than it should’ve. Because I knew what it looked like — the angry midfielder heading straight for his teammate’s girl. But I didn’t care. Not right then.
All I could think about was how damn wrong it felt to see her doing everything alone again.
