Austin
I should’ve noticed it sooner.
The thing with Jane—James—whatever—I’d gotten used to the rhythm of us. Tutoring sessions that somehow didn’t suck, coffee that always came with sarcasm, long practices where we passed the puck like we’d been playing together forever. So when she started acting… off, I chalked it up to stress. The school year was coming. Coach was being an ass. We were all tired.
But it didn’t stop bugging me.
She wasn’t looking at me when we studied. Kept her voice low, clipped, like she was reading a manual instead of talking to me. She barely touched her coffee, and when our fingers accidentally brushed, she moved like I’d shocked her. It made no sense. Nothing had happened.
Except maybe everything had.
Still, I let it go. Told myself she was just tired. That
