“Back to the route, Dust,” Dante called. “Ball’s coming hot.”
I didn’t answer. I just ran. I improved my footwork, held a cleaner line, and caught the pass. But the moment the ball hit my chest, all I heard was the echo of my own stupid voice inside my skull:Nashville.An old friend. Something she’d thought she found. I threw the ball back to Dante harder than necessary.
He caught it, eyebrows raised. “There he is.”
Only I wasn’t here, not fully, and I wouldn’t be until she was back on campus, where I could see she was safe. Not until I made sure the story she was chasing didn’t swallow her whole.
* * *
The locker room after practice always smelled like sweat, detergent, and existential dread. Dread that Coach saw you fuck up and was waiting with the tape for your own private viewing.
Today it smelled like all that plus my own frustration stewing in the air. I peeled off my pads, tossed them harder than I meant to, and sat heavily on the bench.
My phone buzzed in the locker behind me — probably nothing important, but my pulse quickened anyway. Maybe itwas her. Maybe she’d messaged. Maybe she’d . . . I stopped the thought.
Noah dropped onto the bench across from me, stretching his legs out and looking completely relaxed. Yet he watched me with the amused patience of someone utterly delighted to see me fall apart.
“You’re quiet,” he said.
“Am I?”
“Yeah, it’s weird,” he said slowly. “You’re quiet in a... ‘she’s gone and I’m losing brain function’ kind of way.”
I leveled a look at him. “You’re enjoying this too much,” I snapped at him. “Can you drop it?”
He didn’t. Obviously.
“So,” he said casually, “she’s your girlfriend?”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Mmm,” Noah hummed. “Would’ve been a more convincing denial if you hadn’t clenched your jaw. I thought your jaw dislocated.”
I stared at him. “You know I liked you better when you were the strong, silent type, right?”
“Yep,” he said cheerfully. “But you forced me out of my shell. Now, did she tellyoushe was road-tripping to Nashville?”
“She didn’t tell me anything.”
“Ah,” he said, nodding sagely, “andthatwould be the problem.”
My phone buzzed again. I didn’t move. I didn’t want to look.
Noah smirked. “This is weirdly entertaining. Want me to look?”
“I can look at my own goddamn phone.”
He held up a hand. “Dust, I say this as a friend, but you are projecting pacing-the-cage energy right now.”
“I don’t even know what that means.” My eyes narrowed. “I’m not pacing, I’m sitting still.”
“You’re pacing internally.” He lowered his voice just enough that no one would notice. “Everyone can feel the... vibe.”
I glared at him, and he grinned.
“Look,” he said, leaning forward, elbows on knees, voice even softer, “you’re not actually mad she left.”
“I’m absolutely mad she left.”