Page 64 of Offside Angle

I take a breath and stay where I am instead of moving closer. He looks cornered enough already.

“And if I made you feel like I was trying to make that decision for you, then I fucked up.” I hold his gaze. “But don’t give me credit for creating something that was already there just because you hate what it’s costing you now.”

He looks away for the first time.

I hate how much I want to reach for him.

“If Lena was the whole truth for you, nothing I did would have mattered this much,” I say, softer now. “You would’ve told me to fuck off, meant it, and gone home to her. But you didn’t.”

His eyes come back to mine, and there’s so much anger in them that for a second I expect him to tell me to get out.

Instead, he just stands there.

I used to think this was what I wanted—to finally get past all the jokes and flirting and denial until Matteo had no choice but to admit there was something between us.

I was wrong.

I wanted him honest.

I never wanted honesty to hurt him like this.

Matteo studies me for a long moment, his eyes moving over my face with the same careful attention he had that night in his bedroom when he asked me to kiss him. There’s something different about it now, though. Less panic. More regret.

“I wish I hadn’t pulled back ten years ago,” he says eventually, so quietly I almost miss it. “I would’ve at least learned something about myself when it was easier to learn.”

That one gets me.

For years, I wondered about that night more times than I’d ever admit to him. What would have happened if he hadn’t laughed it off on the hood of my car. If I’d kissed him. If he’d let me. If either of us had understood enough about ourselves to know what the hell we were doing.

Apparently I wasn’t the only one who kept it.

There’s no victory in hearing Matteo admit it now, not with his entire life coming apart because it took him ten years to finally face something that scared him.

It just makes me wish he’d had an easier way to get here.

“You’re learning it now,” I tell him. “Maybe later than you wanted to, and definitely in the messiest fucking way possible, but you’re learning it.”

His eyes stay on mine.

“That still counts, Matteo.”

We’re back in Ravensburg for the next game against the Bastards, and my parents are staying at the house again. Everything feels quieter without Lena here. She used to fill the rooms without even trying, laughing with my dad, following my mom around the kitchen, making the place feel less ridiculous for one person to live in.

Now it’s just the three of us and one conversation I’ve been avoiding since they arrived.

We’re setting the table for dinner when Dad finally asks.

“Mijo… where is Lena?”

I keep my attention on the plates in my hands. “We broke up.”

“¿Cómo?” He nearly drops the glasses he’s carrying. “Why? You two were so good together.”

“Rafa,” Mom warns as she carries the salad to the table.

“What? They were.”

“It’s okay.” I put the last plate down and sink into my chair. “And technically… I didn’t break up with her. She broke up with me.”