Page 67 of One Pucking Secret
I force a chuckle, shrugging. “Neither can I most days.” I glance at him, but the familiarity of his words stirs something deeper. The feeling that Zach is always there, right in the middle of every mess I end up in. It’san uncomfortable realization, one that keeps needling at me, but I force it down.
Zach stands, brushing his hands on his jeans. “Well, I should get going. Just wanted to check in, make sure you’re alright. You know I’m always here for you, man.”
I nod, following him to the door. “Yeah, I know. Appreciate it, Zach.”
With a final wave, he’s out, leaving the place quieter than before. I turn back to the strawberry shake, the melted coconut pooling at the bottom. I want to trust him, need to, but the doubts keep growing, tugging at the edges of every memory. If I’m wrong, I’m risking one of the closest friendships I’ve ever had. But if I’m right… I need to know for sure before I act on it.
Chloe and Jasper will be back soon, but until then, I’ll start digging. Because if there’s one thing I know about games, it’s that it doesn’t end until the final buzzer sounds—and it hasn’t yet, not by a long shot.
Jasper’s breathing steadies, fillingthe room with the soft rhythm of sleep and the innocence of childhood dreams. I close thedoor quietly, leaving only a sliver of hallway light before the latch clicks into place. Chloe is beside me, her presence a warm anchor in the cool shadows of the corridor.
We move silently to my bedroom—the sanctum of my private world— where the weight of the day’s doubts and betrayals seems to settle even heavier. The bed creaks as we sit shoulder to shoulder, the silence charged.
“Today, outside the cafe,” Chloe begins, her hands twisting in her lap, “I saw Sonia getting into a car with some guy.” She hesitates, searching for the right words. “He was tall, broad shoulders, brown hair…”
“Zach? But he’s your best friend.”
“I know. But lately, it’s hard to ignore the timing and these so-called coincidences.”
Chloe exhales, her arms folding over her chest as if to brace against the flood of revelations. She leans back, the headboard steadying her as her gaze narrows in thought.
“Let’s go back through everything,” she says. She flips open her laptop, a glow of determination lighting her face as she opens Sonia’s social media profile. “Maybe there’s a pattern we haven’t noticed.”
I nod, and as photos flash across the screen, memories resurface—laughter, crowded barscenes, and clinking glasses. Yet, a feeling nags at me, like a puzzle we’re close to solving.
The glare of the laptop screen illuminates our faces as we huddle together, scrolling through Sonia’s posts. Suddenly, something catches my eye.
“Wait, go back.” My voice is low but urgent.
Chloe rewinds the video, and there it is—a splash of familiar team colors in the corner of Sonia’s living room, a flash of a jersey that doesn’t belong.
“Can you screenshot that?” My pulse quickens, a mixture of dread and confirmation pounding in my chest.
“Got it.” Chloe zooms in on the image, her fingers working quickly. The number fifteen emerges, sharp and unmistakable.
“Alec’s number,” I murmur, my voice hollow as the truth begins to settle.
Chloe meets my gaze, her green eyes mirroring the shock and confusion swirling inside me. Alec—a teammate who’d always been there, quiet and reliable, now linked to this mess. But why?
“We can’t ignore this,” Chloe says, her voice steadying as she scrolls through more of Sonia’s photos.
Our search continues, and soon another pattern emerges—Alec, always lurking on the fringes. There in the background of every bar photo, never in the spotlight, always watching. The pieces fall into place slowly, as if the truth was hiding in plain sight all along.
“Look at this,” I say, pointing to a series of images, my frustration mounting. “Alec’s always there, in the background, watching but never really joining in.”
Chloe’s gaze sharpens as she studies the images. “You’re right… It’s like he’s a ghost in every scene, like he’s waiting for something.”
The realization is chilling, creeping over us like frost on a windowpane. Alec had orchestrated this from within, his quiet presence now tainted with suspicion. But for what? Jealousy? Resentment?
“Those photos, the ones from the bars,” Chloe says, her voice soft but laced with certainty. “They feel staged, don’t they?”
“Staged,” I echo, the word biting with betrayal. “And the drug test… now it all fits.” My fists clench, my knuckles white against the bedsheets. “Alec’s behind this—he has to be.”
Chloe reaches out, her hand covering mine with a gentle firmness. “We don’t have solid proof yet, but the jersey number in Sonia’svideo… it’s hard not to see them working together.”
“Son of a bitch,” I mutter, the bitterness building. Guilt twists inside me for suspecting Zach, but it’s quickly replaced by anger at Alec’s betrayal. To think he would throw me—and our entire team—under like this.
Chloe’s hand tightens on my shoulder, grounding me amid the turmoil.
