That one hit lower than it should’ve. I shoved past them, grabbing my bag. “I said drop it.”
The laughter faded behind me, replaced by a chorus of whistles and muttered “touchy”.
Out in the hall, the noise dulled, leaving only the hum of the vending machine and the echo of my own pulse.
They thought it was a joke — just locker-room talk, teammates giving me grief. But it wasn’t about that. It wasn’t even about Kyle.
It was about the way she looked at me sometimes — calm, steady, like she saw through the noise. And the way that look made me forget I wasn’t supposed to care.
“C’mon, Mason,” Adam said, leaning back on the bench, grin sharp enough to cut. “Just admit it. You’ve got a soft spot for the boss lady.”
Something in me snapped. “I said drop it!”
My voice came out louder than I meant, echoing off the tile walls and cutting clean through the locker room noise. For a second, even the showers went quiet.
Every head turned. A few eyebrows raised. The silence stretched, uncomfortable and heavy, until Derek cleared his throat and mumbled something about me needing more carbs.
I shoved up from the bench, grabbing my gear bag. The movement felt too sharp, too loud — the kind you make when you need to move before you explode.
The look on my face must’ve said enough, because nobody tried to stop me.
Adam started to say something — probably another joke to smooth things over — but I didn’t give him the chance. The door slammed behind me, hard enough to rattle the frame.
Out in the hallway, the fluorescent lights buzzed. I could still feel their laughter bouncing around in my head, grating under my skin.
They didn’t get it.
They thought this was about a crush — about some cliché story where the angry striker falls for the do-gooder director.
It wasn’t like that. Not even close.
They didn’t know what it meant to actually show up for someone. To see someone drowning in responsibility and decide — without being asked — that you weren’t going to let them sink.
They didn’t know what it was like to look at a person who carried too much on their shoulders and think, I’ve been there. I know that weight.
They didn’t understand what it felt like to want to protect someone not because they were weak, but because you knew how it felt to be left holding everything alone.
I gripped the strap of my bag tighter, jaw clenched.
Ellery didn’t need saving. She wasn’t some fragile charity case. She was tougher than half the guys on this roster — smart, focused, relentless. But she was human, too. You could see it in the quiet moments, in the way she stayed late, in the way her smile didn’t always reach her eyes.
That was what got to me.
Not the way she looked — though, yeah, that didn’t exactly make things easier — but the way she showed up. The way she didn’t quit, even when the world gave her every reason to.
That kind of thing stuck with you.
I reached the exit, pushing through the door into the cool morning air. The sky was still pale, the city barely waking up. I took a breath, trying to burn off the leftover anger, but it didn’t go anywhere.
Because the truth was, they were right — just not in the way they thought.
Yeah, I had a soft spot.
Just not the kind you could joke about.
I was almost out the door when I heard it—my name, sharp and careless, bouncing off the walls like a punch I didn’t see coming.
Kyle’s voice.
