LANE SIX

Dangerous Friendship

Three days.

That’s how long Jace had been acting like I didn’t exist.

Not rude or dramatic.

Just… absent.

And somehow that was worse than anything else he had ever done.

I told myself I wanted this distance, space, less confusion, and more control.

But control was overrated when it came with the silence that followed you everywhere.

At lunch, I sat with Kiara and Mason, pushing food around my tray while pretending I wasn’t scanning the entire cafeteria for someone who clearly wasn’t looking for me back.

“You’re doing it again,” Kiara said suddenly.

I didn’t even look up. “Doing what?”

“That thing where you act like you’re fine but your soul is clearly somewhere else.”

Mason nodded like he had been waiting for permission to agree. “She’s right.”

I glared at both of them. “You people are exhausting.”

Kiara leaned back in her chair. “And you’re avoiding him.”

“I am not.”

Mason raised a brow. “You haven’t said his name in three days.”

“That’s called maturity.”

Kiara laughed so hard she nearly choked. “No, that’s called denial.”

I didn’t respond because unfortunately, she was not wrong.

The bell rang before I could defend myself properly, which I was grateful for.

Practice, at least, would be a distraction.

Except it wasn’t.

Coach Daniels wasted no time as usual.

“Exchange drills. Lane six. Move.”

Of course. Lane six.

I walked into position before I could overthink it, gripping the baton tighter than necessary.

Then I saw him.

Jace. Same lane, same position, same silence but not the same him.

He didn’t look at me.

Not even once.

That should have been what I wanted.

So why did it feel like I was the one being ignored on purpose?

Coach blew the whistle.

“Run.”

We moved fast, clean, and had perfect exchanges. No mistakes, no teasing, no unnecessary comments.

Just track and speed.

Just the distance between us felt carefully constructed.

Every time I reached for the baton, his hand met mine exactly where it needed to be, like muscle memory was all that was left between us.

And I hated how precise it was.

Because nothing about us had ever felt this controlled before.

When Coach finally called for a water break, I grabbed mine quickly and walked away before I could do something stupid like look at him for too long.

That was the plan anyway.

“Naomi.”

Of course.

I turned slowly.

Jace stood a few feet away, towel draped over his shoulder, expression unreadable.

He didn’t come closer.

Just watched me like I had started something I didn’t finish.

“We need to talk.”

I laughed once. “We are talking.”

“No,” he said quietly. “We’re not.”

That did something to my chest I didn’t like.

I crossed my arms immediately. “I thought we agreed on professional.”

His jaw tightened slightly. “You agreed.”

I paused.

“…Excuse me?”

“You decided that,” he said, voice calm but sharper than usual. “Not me.”

I felt something twist inside me.

Because that was true.

And I hated that it was true.

I looked away first. “It’s better this way.”

“Better for who?”

The question came too fast and direct.

I didn’t answer.

Because I didn’t actually know.

A long silence stretched between us.

Around us, the team kept moving, laughing, shouting.

But here it felt like everything had stopped.

Jace exhaled slowly.

“I’m not your problem, Naomi.”

My throat tightened at that.

“I didn’t say you were.”

“You didn’t have to.”

That hit harder than I expected.

Because he was right again.

And I was starting to hate how often that was happening.

I adjusted my grip on my water bottle. “You should be with Elena anyway.”

The second I said it, I regretted it.

His expression shifted instantly.

Not angry, not confused but something quieter and heavier.

“She has nothing to do with this,” he said.

“That’s not what it looks like.”

He let out a short breath like he was holding something back.

“What does it look like to whom?”

“To everyone,” I said, more sharply than I meant to. “To her. To the school. To—”

“To you?” he interrupted.

That shut me up because yes to me too.

Silence fell again.

This time it wasn’t uncomfortable.

It was worse, it was honest.

Coach’s whistle cut through the air before either of us could say anything else.

“Back on track!”

That just saved me. But not really.

Because when we went back into lanes, everything felt different not broken or fixed. Just… aware.

Like something had shifted between us that couldn’t be undone.

We ran drills again.

Exchange after exchange.

Perfect timing.

Perfect speed.

Perfect distance.

Except now every time his hand brushed mine, I felt it too much.

And every time he looked away first, I noticed it too clearly.

By the time practice ended, I was exhausted in a way running had nothing to do with.

I grabbed my bag quickly, ready to disappear.

But halfway to the exit, my phone buzzed.

I already knew before I checked.

Unknown Number.

My stomach dropped instantly.

I opened it anyway.

You think distance protects you?

My steps slowed.

Another message appeared.

It doesn’t.

Cold spread through my chest as I stared at the screen.

I didn’t even realize I had stopped walking until I heard footsteps behind me.

“Naomi.”

I turned slowly.

Jace was there again.

And for the first time all day, I realized something I didn’t want to admit.

Even with the distance between us…

I was still not alone in this mess.