The scrimmage loomed like a storm cloud, but the house refused to stay quiet. After the tension in the living room broke, I retreated upstairs to Room 212, my nerves frayed and skin still buzzing from Caleb’s eyes on me. I needed space to breathe without feeling the entire team watching my every move.
Inside my room, I pulled off my heavy sweater and leggings, swapping them for a soft ribbed tank top and dark sleep shorts. It was a relief to shed the layers, but the air in the house still felt electric. I grabbed my toothbrush, needing to wash away the bitter taste of pre-game nerves before trying to get some rest.
The shared bathroom on the second floor had become neutral ground—until it wasn’t.
I stepped inside and found the door already ajar. Steam curled lazily from the shower stall
