Seth~
I catch myself thinking about Leo again, even though I really don't want to.
It's the morning after everything, the awkwardness with Alex, the shitstorm Mikey caused, the press already sniffing around for a scandal. My jaw still aches from grinding my teeth all night. There's no time to get soft or sentimental. Not now. Not when I've got a team to hold together, a scholarship to protect, and a roommate who looks at me like I'm either his worst nightmare or his biggest distraction.
Leo's the kind of memory I'm supposed to file away under "Mistakes I Pretend Were Fun." But my mind goes there anyway.
He'd probably laugh if he knew I still think about him sometimes.
"Everyone out in three… two… out now, folks, or I'll make you jog 'round the pitch!" Coach's voice echoes through the locker room as he smacks the nearest player upside the head.
The shuffle begins. A sea of sweaty bodies disperses with groans and curses. The scent of liniment and damp socks hits me like a slap.
Coach pushes through the mess, zeroing in on me. "Seth…"
"I know, Coach," I cut him off before he can spit the rest out.
For now, I'm standing in as captain while Mikey recovers in the hospital from that busted wrist. Thankfully not his dominant hand, or we'd really be screwed. Captain of the Grey Titans sounds glamorous on paper, but in practice? It's babysitting grown men with the emotional range of toddlers, managing egos, smiling for cameras, and pretending I care about interviews and hashtags.
And image. Can't forget that.
I guess sticking with one or two steady hookups instead of screwing my way through half the campus makes me "cleaner" than the rest of them in PR's eyes.
Coach lowers his voice, glancing at the stragglers still pulling on shirts or lacing up shoes. "We need some good PR, especially after what Mikey pulled with those cult boys."
My spine stiffens. "Mikey didn't pull anything. It was bad timing. Wrong place…"
"Like the scouts give a shit," he snaps. "I've got half a mind to bench him for half the season once he's back. We can't afford this. Not this year."
My mouth opens, but no words come out. I already know arguing is useless. Coach doesn't care about explanations, and neither do the men lining his pockets.
"You're captain now. For a while. Probably the whole damn season. That means no mistakes, no distractions, and definitely no more C's on your report card. You screw this up, and it's not just you that gets burned."
He doesn't have to say it. I know what's on the line.
I nod once. "Got it."
Coach slaps my shoulder harder than necessary and shoves me toward the exit. "Then act like it. Lead."
I force a smile and walk out like everything's fine. Like my future isn't dangling by a thread.
Three hours later, I'm halfway through dinner at a quiet booth in O'Malley's Diner when Leo walks in like he owns the place.
He's in ripped jeans and a snug blue tee that hugs his frame just right. Confident. Relaxed. Gorgeous. The kind of presence that pulls eyes from across the room without even trying. I hate that I notice.
"Hey," he says, beaming as he slides into the seat across from me like we'd planned this.
We didn't.
"Hey," I mutter, already flagging down the waiter.
He looks too good. Leo always has that effect—makes people lean in without realizing they're doing it. He's the polar opposite of Alex, who flinched away from my gaze this morning like I was a loaded gun. They look similar in build, but where Leo thrives on attention, Alex hides from it.
"I didn't expect to see you," I say as casually as I can manage.
"You look good," Leo says, eyes dropping as he flicks imaginary dust from his nails. He tries not to blush, but I see the color rising in his cheeks.
The waiter arrives. "I'm good with what I've got," I tell him, gesturing across the table. "Take his order."
Leo rattles off his favorites, the same ones he always gets when we go out. I don't need to listen, I already know. When the waiter leaves, Leo reaches across the table and takes my hand.
"I've missed you," he says. "You've barely called. Are you… done with me already?"
His voice is too soft, too hopeful.
"We weren't like that, Leo."
"You gave me a key to your place," he says. "I could let myself in. We could just… be."
My stomach clenches. The image of Leo showing up while Alex's still adjusting to the idea of sharing a room with me is almost laughable. Almost.
I pull my hand back gently. "There's no need for that."
He blinks. Hurt flickers across his face. "Why not? Found someone else? Someone who moans prettier for you?"
I exhale slowly. "A new pussy would be more up my alley."
He flinches, and I regret the words instantly. "I'm joking," I say, softer. "Look, I'm trying to focus right now. No distractions. Not even the good ones."
Like you, I don't say.
Coach's warning echoes in my head. One wrong move, and everything I've worked for goes up in smoke.
Leo studies me for a beat, then nods. The food comes just in time, filling the space between us with warm plates and even warmer silence.
I crash hard that night, sleep stealing me before I can overthink things. But peace never lasts.
The third call finally wakes me.
My phone buzzes violently on the nightstand, and I fumble for it with groggy fingers. It's Mum.
"Hello?" I whisper, careful not to wake Alex.
"Seth!" Mum's voice cracks, panic sharp in every syllable. "It's Penny, she's having another seizure. It's bad. She's not responding."
I sit up instantly, heart hammering. "What? Have you called an ambulance?"
"Yes, but your father…" Her voice falters, heavy with exhaustion. "He passed out. Drank himself stupid. He's in the living room, covered in his own vomit."
Fuck.
I'm miles away, helpless. The distance between me and everything falling apart feels like a canyon.
"Mum," I say, voice steadier than I feel, "Is there anyone nearby who can help? Someone from the neighborhood? Maybe I can call in a favor."
She scoffs, bitter and raw. "You think I haven't tried? You think this is new? Since Penny—since that day at the cliffs—you've been the reason everything's gone to hell."
Her words hit like a punch I didn't see coming.
I close my eyes. It wasn't about running away. It was about surviving what I'd caused. Penny followed me to that damn cliff, jumped when I wasn't looking—and she landed wrong. Hit her head. Broke her leg. The seizures came after. Mum never stopped blaming me. Dad couldn't take it and took to drinking. Now it's just us—two broken halves trying not to shatter completely.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, voice barely audible. "I never meant for any of this. I'm trying—"
"Trying isn't enough," she snaps. "Not when your sister's life is hanging by a thread, and your father's given up."
The silence after is thick and suffocating.
I'm not the kid who ran away. I'm the kid who broke everything and can't fix it. Not yet.
So while the guilt still eats at my heart I call a friend from high school who still stays around home.