Page 13 of Stroke of Fate

I want to stop talking about this. Stop talking abouther.Mack and I have never fought over a girl. Our friendship rises above shit like that. But I want to keep Bear to myself a little longer for some reason.

“Oh.”

When he says nothing further, a sigh of relief escapes me. But maybe it’s too obvious or too sigh-like because he cocks his head, studying me, and I swear a drop of sweat rolls down my back.

“Is she hot?” He asks, and it takes everything inside me not to growl at his question.

“No.”

She’s gorgeous.

There’s a beat of silence, and then he asks, “Okay, well, is it cool if I crash here again tonight?”

“Of course, man,” I say, trying not to sound too eager about the subject change. “Just don’t come back too late,” I warn him.

On any other day, I wouldn’t care. We’re both adults, but our practice is at 6 a.m., and Mack isn’t exactly a morningperson. I don’t want to have to drag his groggy ass out of bed because he stayed out too late.

“Yes, Dad,” he says with a mock salute, and I roll my eyes. “I’ll see you later.”

With that, he’s out the door, and I can finally breathe a little easier. Resting my head back on the couch, I stare at the ceiling. Of course, my thoughts immediately drift to Bear.

I’m man enough to admit I messed up. I know I need to fix this—apologize for how I acted. Beg for her forgiveness if that’s what it takes.

What if she hates me?

I bite back a groan. The thought alone makes my stomach churn.

I don't know how long I stay on the couch, but eventually, I stop searching the popcorn ceiling for answers when my hunger outweighs my need for them.

5 | LEVI

It’s way too early when the ear-piercing sound of my alarm slices through my brain. I don’t rush to turn it off. For once, the obnoxious noise is a welcome distraction—finally, something strong enough to cut through the relentless loop of thoughts running on repeat for hours.

I’ve barely slept, unable to quiet my mind long enough to drift off. I spent half the night overanalyzing every little detail of yesterday’s interaction with Bear.

God, I wish I could go back in time and punch myself in the face—maybe that would’ve knocked some sense into me. While simultaneously wanting to relive every moment with her again.

Rubbing at my eyes, I let out a frustrated groan. Why the hell couldn’t I have stuck to the damn plan?

Realizing my phone’s incessant ringing is only adding to the mess in my mind, I sit up and turn the damn thing off. I push the covers aside, stand up, and stretch my neck from side to side, trying to relieve some tension.

I'm overthinking everything because I feel guilty about how I treated her. I need to man up and tell her I’m sorry. I should have found a way to do it already.

Annoyed at myself, I throw on some sweatpants and a hoodie before slipping into my Nike Blazers. Trudging to the bathroom, I quickly brush my teeth and splash water on my face. Once I’m done, I head back to my room to grab my practice bag.

In the kitchen, I find Mack scooping a heaping pile of powder into two glasses.

“You’re up early,” I mumble, my voice gruff.

I vaguely remember hearing him come in last night, but I was too caught up in my head to leave the room.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says, absentmindedly twisting the lid back onto the pre-workout container.

I fill our glasses with water, and once the powder fully dissolves, we lift them in a silent toast and down the tart-tasting liquid.

“God, that better kick in quickly,” Mack shudders, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

“Mm-hmm,” I murmur, swallowing the last bit down.

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