Push Back
1020 Words
I spent the entire day convincing myself that I had done the right thing.
By the end of the day, I was no longer convinced.
The problem wasn’t that Jace had argued.
The problem was that he hadn’t.
After I told him we should keep things professional, he had simply accepted it.
No fight, no sarcasm, no stubborn persistence.
Just one quiet word.
Fine.
And somehow that had made everything worse.
Because now he was treating me exactly the way I had asked.
Professionally.
At practice, he only spoke when necessary.
During drills, he followed the coach’s instructions and ignored everything else.
Even at lunch, he sat with Mason and the rest of the team instead of stopping by my table.
It should have been a relief.
Instead, I felt strangely annoyed.
“You’re staring again.”
Kiara’s voice snapped me back to reality.
I immediately looked away.
“I wasn’t.”
“You absolutely were.”
“I hate you.”
“I know.”
Kiara grinned.
Then her expression softened.
“You know, you could just talk to him.”
I nearly choked on my drink.
“About what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. The fact that you’re both acting ridiculous?”
“We’re not acting ridiculous.”
Kiara simply stared.
The silence lasted long enough to become embarrassing.
“Fine,” I muttered.
“Thank you.”
The bell rang before the conversation could continue.
A blessing.
Unfortunately, it was only temporary.
Because practice arrived a few hours later.
And so did Jace.
Coach Daniels gathered the relay team near the track.
His expression alone suggested suffering was about to occur.
“Today we’re working on exchanges.”
A collective groan rose from the athletes.
Coach ignored it naturally.
“Blake. Donovan.”
My stomach immediately tightened.
Of course, always.
Coach pointed toward lane six.
“You two.”
Neither of us argued.
Which somehow made everything feel even stranger.
We moved into position.
The tension between Jace and me was impossible to ignore.
At least for me.
Jace looked completely unaffected.
That annoyed me too.
Coach blew his whistle.
“Run.”
The drill began.
I sprinted toward the exchange zone. Hand extended. Eyes forward.
The baton landed smoothly in my palm.
Perfect and professional.
Exactly what I wanted and I hated it.
The next exchange went the same way, then another and another.
No teasing, no conversation, no unnecessary comments.
Nothing.
Finally, Coach called for a water break.
Athletes scattered across the field.
I headed toward the coolers.
Before i could reach them, a voice stopped me.
“We need to talk.”
I froze, slowly turning around.
Jace stood a few feet away.
His expression was too calm.
Something about it made me nervous.
“I thought we were being professional.”
His jaw tightened slightly.
“We are.”
“Then—”
“Stop.”
The single word caught me off guard.
For a second, neither of us moved.
Then Jace stepped closer, not enough to invade mt space.
Just enough to make it clear he wasn’t leaving.
“What’s your problem?”
The directness stunned me.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
I crossed my arms.
Defensive instinct kicking in immediately.
“I don’t have a problem.”
“That’s a lie.”
I glared.
He didn’t back down.
The stubbornness should have irritated me.
Instead, it felt familiar, comforting, and dangerous.
“You suddenly decide we should be professional,” Jace continued.
“Then you spend an entire day acting like I don’t exist.”
His voice remained controlled.
But frustration lingered underneath.
“And now you’re pretending everything is normal.”
I swallowed hard because the worst part?
He was right.
“I just think things got complicated.”
The answer sounded weak even to my own ears.
Jace laughed once humorless.
“Complicated.”
“Yes.”
“Because we’re friends?”
The word hit harder than expected. Friends, simple, honest, and safe.
So why did it feel impossible?
I looked away.
Toward the empty stands.
Toward anything except him.
“It’s not that simple.”
“Then explain it.”
Heavy silence followed
Because I couldn’t.
I couldn’t tell him about Elena’s warning.
Couldn’t tell him how guilty I felt every time people talked about us.
Couldn’t tell him that I was terrified of wanting something I couldn’t have.
So instead I said nothing.
Jace noticed.
His frustration finally surfaced.
“That’s what I thought.”
The disappointment in his voice hurt.
Far more than it should have. He took a step back.
Then another, creating distance.
The exact thing I had wanted.
Yet now it felt wrong.
“Jace—”
“No.”
This time he interrupted me.
For the first time since I met him, his patience seemed exhausted.
“You don’t get to push me away and then act confused when I stop trying.”
The words landed like a punch.
Because they were painfully true.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Athletes laughed somewhere across the field.
Coach yelled at somebody and life continued.
Meanwhile, the space between us felt enormous.
Finally, Jace exhaled.
Running a hand through his hair.
“I don’t know what’s going on with you.”
His voice softened slightly not much but just enough.
“But whatever it is, stop pretending I’m the enemy.”
My throat tightened unexpectedly because he wasn’t.
He had never been, that was the problem.
The whistle shrieked across the track, water break over.
Athletes immediately began returning to their positions.
The moment was ending.
Jace looked at me one last time.
Long enough to make my heart ache.
Then he turned and walked away.
Leaving me standing there alone.
Coach called everyone back into formation.
The relay team gathered near lane six.
I took my position automatically. My mind is racing and my chest is tight.
Because for the first time, avoiding Jace didn’t feel like protection.
It felt like a mistake.
And judging by the distance now stretching between us, I wasn’t the only one who knew it.
- Writer
