Page 90 of Well That Happened

Me:Maybe. Hopefully not.

Caleb:Saturday work?

Me: Yeah.Thanks.

Grayson:I’ll tag along.

Caleb:The more, the merrier.

Me:Seriously—thank you, guys.

Caleb:Hunter, be good while we’re gone.

Hunter: *middle finger emoji*

I stare at the screen, biting back a smile.

Because somehow, even that feels like affection.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Grayson

The noise of the locker room starts to blur—laughter, slamming doors, the spray of showers.

I don’t say goodbye. I just pull on a hoodie and head up the concrete stairs.

Past the maintenance landing.

Up another flight—until I push open the battered rooftop access door and step into air that cuts clean and cold against my skin.

The rooftop is quiet. High above the hum of traffic and the lingering buzz of fluorescent lighting inside. No shouting. No stick-on-ice chatter. No one watching.

Just space.

Just sky.

And maybe, finally, room to breathe.

I see Caleb’s here too, standing at the edge of the concrete ledge with the city spread behind him, a six-pack at his feet and a half-drunk can in his hand. His posture is loose, like he’s been up here awhile.

He doesn’t look at me as I walk over.

I grab a beer from the plastic ring, crack it open, and take a slow drink.

The silence holds for a beat. Then another.

I exhale and lean against the ledge beside him.

“You’ve been weird,” I say.

He huffs, gives me a side glance. “You’re the one who’s been disappearing every time she walks in the room.”

I take another sip. “Well, I’m just… trying not to punch you in the face every time you’re alone with her.”

That gets him. He barks a short laugh, then shakes his head.

“Same,” he says.

---