Page 9 of Echoes of Us

They both shook their heads. We reached the clubroom and pushed the door open.

“I could stay at home and watch a movie all by myself. It sounds like the best plan,” I said. I turned towards Ezra, but his smile faded. “What?” I asked and looked at the team. They were all gathered at the benches, talking.

“Fuck,” Ezra muttered.

They all stared back at us, and the world went quiet.

My stomach dropped, my nails bit into the skin of my palms as I clenched my fists. This couldn’t be happening. Surely, I was imagining it. He couldn’t have dumped me, disappeared off the face of the earth, and then showed up at the gym two years later with no notice, no heads-up, nothing.

The sight of him hit me like a punch to the gut. His eyes were fixed on mine, their familiar green now clouded with an emotion I couldn’t read. He looked the same, yet different—his hair a bit shorter, his face a little less lean—but it was him. The smile on his lips slowly faded as he assessed my reaction. The air felt thick and heavy, pressing down on me, making it difficult to breathe.

No.

I refused.

This wasn’t going to happen today.

I tightened my grasp on my bag, turning around and walking right out, the sound of my footsteps muffled on the thick rubber flooring. I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. I just kept walking, trying to put as much distance as I could between me and Noah.

CHAPTER

THREE

BEFORE

Noah started showing up for training. Although he didn’t join the team, he still trained and played with us. He even refused the uniform, preferring to wear his gym clothes. I was getting used to his presence. I’d watch him from afar, pretending not to, and he’d fit right in with everybody. Noah was always talking, always smiling. He joked around and snickered if he messed up. He spoke Spanish fluently with an accent I didn’t recognize but found incredibly appealing. More than once, I noticed him singing under his breath or nodding his head to the rhythm of an imaginary song. When he did, it was impossible to look away. I’d never met anyone who shone like him. His smile was infectious, and his laughter seemed to light up the whole gym. He still had difficulty keeping up with physical training, and you could tell how tired he was at the end of practice. But I was sure he’d catch up. It was just a matter of time.

We finally had a practice game, and Noah insisted onbeing on my team. Playing with him was even better than I had imagined. Despite seeming reckless, he was attentive to everything on the court and what I was doing. I barely had to think about what I wanted; he was there to catch it. His movements were graceful and precise, a stark contrast to his usual carefree demeanor. The more the game went on, the more I realized how into him I was. I hoped my face didn’t give it away.

Yet, when he talked to me, I struggled to keep the conversation going, bringing it to a halt every time and getting more worked up because of it. I wanted it to be effortless, but I became so nervous around him that I couldn’t act normal. The bigger my crush got, the worse the talking went. He would smile or laugh it off and go on his way every time, but the gap between us grew wider each day.

When we went to our next tournament, Noah started showing up less often. We left for games, and I missed having him around. I started seeing him more around campus, and he’d wave in my direction, but that was underwhelming. When we placed first in the tournament, Ezra and Colin roped me into another party. I hardly complained, figuring maybe he’d be there. From what I could tell, he was more into parties than anything else.

I fussed with my clothes, trying to put more effort into my appearance. I didn’t know what good it would do, considering Noah was probably straight, but it couldn’t hurt. As soon as we got there, Ezra started pushing beers on me. Even though I resisted, I had been drinking, and it was beginning to catch up with me. The party was the same as always: a room that was too hot, filled with sweaty people. I excused myself to go to the bathroom, and when I came back, I saw both of them distracted, talking to a group of girls. I rolled my eyes and made my way outside. Coming to this party was a disappointment. Noah was nowhere to be seen, and now I was drunk and sweating outside a frat house.

I walked towards what I assumed was the garden, found a ledge I could lean against, and sat enjoying the silence.

“It figures you’d be hiding out here,” I heard, and opened my eyes to see Noah walking towards me. He looked effortlessly cool, with his tousled hair and a relaxed smile that made my heart skip a beat. Fuck.

“Hi,” I said. He leaned on the ledge, too, not very close. “It’s too hot in there—it’s always too hot,” I told him.

He chuckled. “Have you been drinking, Atticus?” he asked me with a frown, pretending to look disappointed but still smiling.

“Yeah, I guess,” I replied, trying to sound casual.

“Well, good. You should be. Congratulations on the win.” He reached for his back pocket and pulled out a flask. He drank and I watched him as he sipped. He saw me and offered it.

“No, thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” He shrugged.

“What is that?” I asked, trying not to bring the conversation to a halt again and scare him away.

“Whiskey,” he said.

My eyebrows drew together. That seemed a little intense, though I guess that’s what people usually do at parties.

“You’re not much of a drinker, are you?” he asked, his eyes narrowing playfully.

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