Page 56 of Never Enough

I love her. It’s as simple and as complicated as that.

Daphne’s and Victoria’s opinions are the only ones that truly matter to me. I can’t hurt Daphne, can’t betray the trust she’s placed in me.

As I step back onto the field, my resolve strengthens. I may disappoint some people, but I won’t disappoint the ones who really count. Not Daphne, and not myself.

The shrill blast of the whistle signals halftime, and I breathe a sigh of relief. My teammates jostle past me to the sideline bench, their excited chatter grating on my frayed nerves. I need to escape and find a moment to myself.

As the marching band files onto the field, a sea of glinting instruments and crisp uniforms, I make my decision. I’ll talk a short walk even if it’s just to the bathroom and back. “Hey, I’ll catch up with you guys in a bit,” I call out to no one in particular, already backing away from the bench.

After maneuvering through the sea of bodies, I escape into the quiet corridors. The bathroom beckons to me as a brief sanctuary where I can take a moment to breathe.

“Alex!” My attention draws to Daphne as a soft voice calls out from behind me and she steps out of the shadows. Daphne’s chin-length hair frames her face like a dark halo.

A wave of relief washes over me as she nears. Daphne is the only person who understands me, the real me, the one hidden beneath the façade of the popular football player.

“Hey,” I manage to choke out, feelingdrained.

“Are you okay?” she asks with genuine concern. Her probing eyes search for something deeper than the pretense I wear like armor. “You seemed tired.”

Before I can answer, Rodge, a defensive lineman, barrels between us like a tank. “Move it, geek,” he sneers at Daphne, his eyes never leaving her as he brushes past. “Alex doesn’t need your desperation.”

My heart sinks as I hear Rodge’s cruel and frankly untrue words. I know he’s only saying it to impress me, but it still hurts to see Daphne treated so badly.

Her face falls, a flash of hurt crossing her features before she composes herself into a neutral expression. Guilt gnaws at my stomach, but my voice betrays me and remains silent.

Because, like a coward, I’m afraid I’ll stutter.

“Sorry,” she whispers before casting one last pained glance in my direction and disappearing back into the crowd.

I watch her go while hating myself. I know I should stand up for her, but I’m too apprehensive of what it might mean for my reputation if I open my mouth to defend her, and all that comes out are stutters.

“Damn! Stalker much?” Rodge chuckles, clapping me on the shoulder as if we shared an inside joke.

I hurry into the bathroom, the bright fluorescent lights harsh and unforgiving. In the mirror, I barely recognize the reflection staring back at me. The stranger in the mirror mimics Alexandru Whitmore—lean and slightly muscular, with contacts covering his brown eyes he inherited from our mother, but any resemblance ends there.

“Get it together,” I whisper to him, but even as I do, I know he won’t listen. He never does.

I splash cold water on my face in an attempt to wash away the gnawing hollowness that Daphne’s wounded gaze has etched into me, when the door squeaks open behind me, bringing in a draft of floral perfume.

I don’t even have to look up to see who’s there.

“Alex,” Celeste purrs, her voice wrapping around my name. I catch her reflection in the mirror.

“Jesus, Celeste,” I mutter, turning off the faucet. “It’s the men’s room.”

“Never stopped me before.” She saunters closer and only stopping once her fingers find their way to my chest. Touching me, she traces the lines of my muscles through the fabric of my jersey.

“Everyone’s talking about us, you know?” she says, her nails digging slightly as if to claim me. “They want us back together.”

The rejection sits heavily on my tongue, but I force it out anyway. “But that’s not whatIwant.”

Her pout is practiced. It’s a maneuver designed to manipulate. “You’re breaking my heart.”

We’ve been through this. I’ve given her grace through our breakup, but the grace is now running short.

“Stop it. This isn’t—”

“Shh.” Her finger presses against my lips. “Come to the football after-game party tonight. We can talk more there.”

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