My hands still, tension creeping back into my shoulders like an old friend. I exhale through my nose, shaking my head as I lace up my shoes with more force than necessary. "Not playing this game with you."
Carter chuckles, dropping onto the bench across from me. "Relax, man. Just saying, you looked ready to rip my head off when you saw me sitting with Maddy."
My jaw clenches atMaddy, like they have history. Inside jokes. Like she lets him in when she keepsmeat arm’s length.
Carter smirks. "If looks could kill, I’d be six feet under."
I slam my locker shut and finally meet his gaze. "You done?"
He leans back, arms stretching behind him. "Depends. You gonna stop acting like I'm your competition?"
My stomach tightens. "The hell does that mean?"
Carter studies me for a beat before shaking his head. "Means I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours, but if you’re worried about me and Madison?Don’t be."
I freeze as my pulse kicks up. "You sure about that?"
He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. I am." He pauses. "Look, man, last fall? Yeah, we hooked up, but it literally meant nothing. No strings, no feelings, just blowing off some steam."
Something sharp slices through my chest when I imagine his hands on her, his mouth on hers. I struggle to keep my face neutral.
"But it was never more than that, man," Carter continues. "She never looked at me the way she looks at you."
My gaze swings back to him. "What are you talking about?"
Carter smirks, shaking his head. "Everyone sees it. Hell, I think the two of you are the only ones who don’t." He leans forward. "Or maybe she does, and that’s why she runs. Madison’s always been good at running from things that force her to actually feel."
I don’t respond, but something shifts inside me.
Because Ifeltit.
That night, when she let me hold her, the way her body pressed into mine like it was made to fit there, Ifelt something. The way she had to pull back, hiding her true feelings before calling it a mistake.
Because it wasn’t.
No matter how much she tries to convince herself otherwise, I know she felt it too.
Carter’s words still linger between us when the locker room door swings open, and Coach Harding steps inside. "Alright, listen up!"
The chatter dies instantly. Every guy straightens, turning toward him, all business now.
"This weekend's game is gonna be a battle," Coach starts, pacing in front of the lockers. "They’re physical, fast, and looking to take us down." He pauses, letting the words sink in. "Which means we need to be sharper. Stronger. Smarter."
His gaze sweeps over us before landing on me. "Montgomery, I need to see you in my office after practice. Work for you?"
A knot forms in my gut. "Yes, sir."
"Good."
As the guys file out, Carter slaps a hand on my shoulder. "Guess we better get to it, huh?"
I grunt, pulling on my receiver gloves. "Damn right." But his earlier words echo in my head, a whispered promise that maybe, just maybe, I'm not as alone in this as I thought.
Two hours later, my muscles are sore, my jersey damp with sweat, but the burn from practice is exactly what I needed. For two hours, I didn't have to think about Madison, didn't have to think about anything except running my routes, catching every damn ball thrown my way, and making sure I stayed sharp.
I'm just about to head to the showers when I hear Coach's voice behind me. "Montgomery, my office."
I glance over my shoulder, nodding. "Yes, Coach."
