Page 33 of Fragile

The memory of the kiss plays in my mind like a home movie and a sliver of guilt creeps into my gut for not telling my brother. Not that he needs to know anything about my love life—in fact, the less the better.

I watch Miles fling his bag with ease into the lower deck of the bus and a really big part of me wants to rage at him, but the look on his face has me re-thinking my anger. I don’t want to be another person who rages at him, even if he does deserve it. I want to be the one he comes to when he needs help.

Another part of me wants to run up to him and ask a million questions. The first one being, does he think the kiss was a mistake? The thought makes my heart ache. So, I shake it off, forcing myself to focus before I go back to overthinking him kissing me at all. I know worrying won’t solve anything, and it’s not the right time to try to talk about this with him.

So, I concentrate on things I can control, like cheering my little heart out at the game tomorrow.

Chapter fourteen

Miles

Seb shakes me awake,his hand firm on my shoulder. “Hey, man, time to get up. We have pre-practice warmups and breakfast.”

I groan and roll over, the dull ache of exhaustion settling in my bones. “What time is it?”

“Time to move your lazy ass.” Seb laughs as he yanks the covers off me. “Come on, we need to be downstairs in fifteen.”

I sit up, blinking against the harsh morning light filtering through the curtains. My head feels heavy, and my thoughts are a jumbled mess. Last night, I barely made it to the room before collapsing into bed. No dreams, just a deep, unsettling darkness that swallowed me whole. Maybe that was a blessing. No time to think about Quinn or that kiss. Or the crappy email my dad sent me with a long-ass list of his expectations of me.

Dragging myself out of bed, I pull on my practice gear, the fabric feeling rough against my skin. I splash some water on my face, trying to wake up, but the cold sting does little to chaseaway my mood. Seb’s all ready, his energy a stark contrast to my sluggishness. “You good?” he asks, concern flickering in his eyes.

“Yeah, just tired,” I mutter and avoid his gaze. I don't want him to see the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. While he grabs something from his bag, I find my wallet and push it into my back pocket, looking around for my phone. “You see my phone?”

“Yeah, I put it in the closet,” he says casually, as though that’s normal behavior.

“Because…?” I prompt.

He looks up at me. “Because I need your head in the game, and you don’t need any of daddy dearest’s pep talks today.”

I huff a laugh, both because my best friend is being good to me like he always is, and because he knows my dad has the ability to derail my game. What he has no idea about is how my doping can do that all by itself.

We head downstairs, and my stomach tightens with each step. I need coffee. Strong coffee. As we enter the breakfast area, my heart stutters when I spot Quinn across the room. She's laughing with Indie, her smile lighting up the space. She looks so effortlessly beautiful it almost hurts to look at her.

Panic claws at my chest, and I freeze, my brain scrambling for an escape. “I, uh, forgot something in the room. I'll catch up with you later,” I tell Seb, my voice tight. Before he can question me, I turn on my heel and bolt for the door.

The cool morning air hits my face as I step outside, my breaths coming in shallow gasps. I need to clear my head. There's a diner across the street with a flickering neon sign. It looks like the kind of place that serves terrible coffee. Perfect.

I push through the door, the bell jangling above me, and take a seat at the counter. The place smells like burnt toast and old grease. A tired-looking waitress shuffles over and pours me a cup without asking. As I wrap my hands around the mug, thewarmth seeps into my cold fingers. Taking a sip, I grimace at the bitter taste. It's exactly what I need.

As I sit there, my thoughts spiral back to Quinn. How does she feel about the kiss? Does she regret it? Was she as surprised as I was by how good it felt? She kissed me back, so she was clearly into it, and that equal parts scares me and makes me feel something I’ve never felt with anyone else before. The memory of her lips on mine is a sharp, sweet ache that I haven’t been able to forget.

I want to talk to her, to know what she's thinking, but the fear of the unknown paralyzes me as soon as I lay eyes on her. The idea that I might have messed everything up is yet another thing for me to think about. I can’t afford to lose another person in my life. I can’t afford to let anything get to me. I need to keep it together.Is that what you’re doing with the pills? Keeping it together?The angel on my shoulder, who suspiciously looks a lot like Quinn, coos into my subconscious.

And that’s my other issue. The secret I've been carrying, the weight of it pressing down on me every time I play. Should I tell her about the drugs? Would she understand, or would she just see me as a screw-up? My hand trembles as I reach into my sweats pocket, touching the small, white pill in the plastic packet that I grabbed before I left the room.

I know I shouldn't, but I pop the pill into my mouth and down the rest of the cup, the bitterness masking the familiar tang of the drug. The caffeine and the pill together should give me the edge I need, but I’ll probably take another just before going out there too. I have to keep it together, at least until after the game. My dad’s emails have been a constant reminder of what’s at stake. If I mess up again, there’ll be hell to pay.

Shoving my thoughts aside, I leave the diner and head back to the hotel. Each step feels heavier than the last as the weight of my secrets pulls me down. Seb’s waiting for me outside,frowning. “Where'd you go? I thought you said you were going to the room.”

“Just needed some air,” I say, forcing a tight smile.

He gives me a skeptical look but doesn’t push it.

We join the rest of the team for warmups, and I focus on the motions, trying to let the routine calm my nerves. My body moves on autopilot, but my mind is a storm waiting to downpour. I can’t let anyone see how off I am. Especially not Quinn.

As we stretch and run drills, my eyes keep drifting to her. She's across the field, her focus on her own teammates, but every now and then, she glances my way. Every time our eyes clash, my chest constricts. Fuck. I really can’t afford to be this distracted.

I shake my head, trying to clear it. For now, the game is all that matters. We need this win in a few hours, and I need to prove I can handle it. Even if it means keeping secrets and pretending everything’s fine. The pressure is suffocating, but I force myself to breathe, to concentrate.

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