Dante leans back with his arms crossed, gaze unreadable.
Cole’s the only one who looks like he wants to say something and is actively deciding to stay silent.
Coach clears his throat. “Media tone’s cooled,” he says, like he’s reading weather. “Practice focus stays internal. No comments. No corrections.”
No lecture. No warning. My name doesn’t even enter the room.
That lands wrong.
Cole finally cracks. “So… we’re good?”
He glances at me, then away, like he’s stepping around a live wire.
“We’re disciplined,” Coach says. “That’s all.”
Adrian’s mouth twitches. He still doesn’t look at me. “Good game last night,” he says, careful. Clean.
“Yeah,” I answer. “It was.”
Dante tips his head. “Facilities asked if your guest needs parking validation.”
Guest. Not girl. Not problem. A sanctioned category.
I feel the change click into place.
Declan finally turns, stare steady. “You bringing her by after practice, or—”
“—or what?” I cut in, sharper than I mean to.
He stops mid-sentence, holds my gaze. “Or not,” he says.
No offense. Just adjustment.
Coach taps the board. “Focus.”
The room obeys. Immediately.
I sit there and realize the worst part: nobody’s trying to manage me. They’re managing the space around me. Around us. The jokes died because they already did the math and decided they were obsolete.
Zoë didn’t just absorb attention.
She changed how it moves.
I don’t like how effective that is. I like even less that part of me wants to protect it.
Coach waits until the room empties. Not theatrically. He just doesn’t rush, and everyone else suddenly does.
Chairs scrape. Laughter spikes and fades. Adrian leaves without looking back. Dante nods once. Cole hesitates, then follows. Declan’s the last out, gaze steady on me like he’s filing the moment away for later.
The door shuts.
The silence after a team clears is always heavier than the one before they arrive. Like the walls remember too much.
Coach Addison taps the whiteboard with the marker once. Twice. Sets it down without turning around.
I brace anyway. Old habit. Shoulders squared. Jaw locked. Waiting for the reframing. The warning dressed up as advice.
Coach gives me none of it.
