Page 78 of Shut Up and Score
Luke’s voice is low, rough. “They thought you assaulted him?”
I nod once, jaw clenched. “No proof. Nothing happened beyond the kiss. But the rumor spread fast. I lost my scholarship. Got kicked from the team. I had to go home and work two jobs to afford one semester in the community college just to stay enrolled somewhere.”
“And now you’re back.” He studies me. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” I say. But it’s a lie.
Luke waits.
So I give him the truth.
“Maybe I thought it would force him to see what he did. That I’m not some mistake he can erase. That I’m still here. Still standing. Still better than him in every goddamn drill. Still the best thing he ever lost.” I sigh heavily. “Revenge, in a way.”
Luke lets out a soft, pained sound. “You wanted him to feel it.”
“I wanted him toseeme.”
We sit in silence for a beat.
Then he says, “You don’t need him to see you, Micah. You’re already visible. You shine so fucking bright it makes people like him flinch.”
I huff a laugh that’s more grief than humor.
Luke nudges my shoulder. “Seriously. You’re strong as hell. I don’t know if I’d be standing after all that. And yeah, maybe you came back because you weren’t done hurting. But youstayedbecause you deserve to be here. You belong.”
I look at him. Really look.
And something in me eases. Not the pain. Not yet. But something.
“Thanks,” I say, quietly. “For not treating me like a punchline. For being my friend.”
Luke snorts. “Please. If I wasn’t into tragic emotional damage, I wouldn’t try to date straight theater majors.”
I crack a smile. “Fair.”
He hops off the hood, brushing off his hands. “C’mon. I’m making you lunch. And by ‘making’ I mean I’m burning boxed mac and cheese in the communal kitchen, while you judge me and cry into aLaCroix.”
“Deal,” I say.
NINETEEN
COLTON
I watchthem from across the quad—Micah and Luke, leaving the field house as if they didn’t just rip me open and leave the pieces scattered on the turf.
Luke says something. Micah laughs.
And it hurts.
Not the jealousy—though yeah, it’s there, burning low and sharp—but theache. The realization that the one person I can’t stop thinking about looks happier with someone else. I know that laugh. I used to be the reason for it.
Used to.
Now I’m the reason he flinches when I get too close. The reason he throws words like knives and dares me to bleed for him.
I deserve it.
God, I deserve worse.
