Page 87 of Shut Up and Score
I don’t.
It’s the most electric, dangerous standoff of my life.
Then he blinks and jerks back like he’s been burned, and quickly shoves his stuff into his bag before slinging it onto his shoulder.
“Don’t follow me,” he mutters, voice raw.
“Micah—”
But he’s already gone, storming out of the locker room. The door slams behind him. And just like that, he’s gone again.
The silence that follows is deafening.
Not just in my ears, but in my chest, in my bones, in the way the air presses in around me the same way judgment would.
I turn slowly, dread twisting in my gut.
They're all staring.
Not all of them—some have suddenly found somethingveryinteresting in their shoelaces, or the ceiling tiles, or the inside of their lockers. But the rest?
Yeah. They saw it.
Theyheardit.
There’s no pretending now. No "he’s just my friend." No "it was a misunderstanding." No brushing it under the rug like I did two years ago. But I don’t want to.
Whatever version of me they believed in. That spotless, untouchable Colton Taylor who nailed every rep, every test, every press photo and handshake and expectation, they're watching him crack open and bleed all over the tile floor.
And some of them look as if theyknew. Maybe they always did.
But the ones who were there back then?
They look different now. Not shocked. Just...cold. Disappointed.Angry.
They remember how Micah disappeared. How I never explained. Never even let them ask me about it. Allowed them to believe the rumors.
Caleb meets my eyes for a second before looking away. It shouldn’t hurt. But it does.
Then Luke steps forward. Still shirtless, still damp from practice, eyeliner smudged under his eyes like war paint. His arms are crossed tight over his chest, and his gaze pins me in place.
“You know,” he says, voice steady but not sharp, “I don’t get you. Micah…he’s out here owning who he is. And you’re—” He gestures at me, frustration flickering in his eyes. “You’re hiding. You’re playing with him in the dark as though it doesn’t cost anything.”
My jaw clenches. He’s not wrong.
Before I can respond, Caleb steps in between us, palm lightly touching Luke’s shoulder. “Luke. Enough.”
Luke blinks at him. “He needs to hear it?—”
“Heishearing it,” Caleb says firmly. “And piling on isn’t gonna help.”
The locker room goes quiet again, the hum of the fluorescent lights loud in the silence.
Luke exhales, the tension in his shoulders loosening just a fraction. “I just… Micah doesn’t deserve to be someone’s secret. Not again. He’s my friend. And I’m not gonna watch him get hurt by the same person twice.”
I swallow hard, shame coiling low in my chest. I want to say Ididn’t mean to, that I never wanted this to happen like this—but my throat won’t work.
And then he’s gone, following the same path Micah took, leaving me standing in the middle of the locker room with a million pounds of shame and no place to put it. The silence closes in again.
