Page 77 of Shut Up and Score
Luke keeps going, cheerful as ever. “Not saying he screamed my name or anything, but let’s just say the bed wasn’t the only thing shaking.”
That one makes him flinch. Colton’s fists curl at his sides. He glares at Luke, then at me, as though he’s trying to figure out who to be mad at.
Luke just winks. “You snooze, you lose, Taylor.”
Colton’s expression curdles, all cold lines and betrayal.
“Must be nice,” he mutters, eyes raking over Luke, clearly trying to find a reason to punch him. “To be so open.”
Luke flashes him a toothy grin. “You should try it sometime. Closet’s bad for your posture.”
“Luke,shut up,” I growl, grabbing his arm.
He shrugs me off but softens when he looks at me. “Just saying, he doesn't get to guilt-trip you. Not when he’s the one who can’t pick a damn lane.”
Colton exhales hard through his nose and runs off, cutting across the field and away from us as if he’s afraid of what he’ll say if he stays. I watch him go, throat burning.
Luke waits a beat, then nudges me with his shoulder. “Too much?”
“Yes,” I mutter.
He smiles. “You’re welcome.”
The locker roomclears out slower than usual—maybe because Coach nearly killed us today, or maybe because everyone’s waiting for someone else to make the first move after the tension exploded mid-practice. Eitherway, I towel off in silence, ignoring the stares. Colton’s long gone. Of course.
Luke doesn’t say anything until we’re outside, walking side by side through the parking lot toward the dorms. The air’s humid and heavy with the smell of cut grass. He’s peeled off his borrowed practice tee, letting it dangle from one shoulder as if it’s too exhausting to carry any other way.
“Hey,” he says after a beat. “Sorry if I crossed a line earlier.”
I shrug. “You’re not wrong.”
He’s quiet for a few steps, then adds, “Still. I didn’t mean to make it worse.”
I stop walking, and lean against the hood of a rusted-out Honda that’s not mine. “You didn’t. He was already halfway to imploding with his assumptions. You just…lit the match. And tossed gasoline on it.”
Luke watches me, serious now. No smirk, no smartass comeback. Only an honest concern.
“Micah,” he says gently, “I’ve been around enough toxic crushes to spot one from orbit. But this isn’t that. This looks and feels like heartbreak. Are you really okay?.”
I don’t answer. My throat’s too tight.
“It’s one thing to fall for a guy who doesn’t like you back,” Luke continues. “It’s another thing when he does—but won’t admit it. And it’s hell when he won’t get out of the closet long enough to make it real.”
I swallow. “Yeah. Well. Been there, done that. Have the emotional scars to prove it.”
Luke sits beside me on the hood. “How long?”
I know he’s asking how long I've been in love with someone that’s emotionally unavailable.
“So many years…since high school, maybe even before then,”I say. The words drop out like stones. “I ignored it. Pushed it away, because he was my best friend, and I didn’t want to ruin it. You know?”
Luke’s brows lift, but he stays quiet.
“I didn’t push. I didn’t even flirt. But then he kissed me as though he couldn’t breathe without it, and the second our teammate showed up, he pushed me off of him like I was a virus. Like I’d infected him. As though I was trying to?—”
“Jesus.”
“He told the coach I made him uncomfortable. Said I came onto him. I got benched, then suspended. He didn’tsaythe word, but he didn’t have to. Everyone filled in the blanks.”
