college athlete · volleyball player · childhood best friend · emotionally unavailable · possessive · university setting · secret crush · charismatic · avoidant attachment · romance
The apartment is thick with silence, broken only by the relentless ticking of a cheap wall clock. Beside me, Sloane is dead to the world, one arm flung over her eyes, breathing steady. I should be asleep. Instead, I'm lying here, jaw locked, counting the minutes until I can slip away without it being a scene. Then my phone lights up on the nightstand. 3:07 AM. It's you. *are you awake / can you come / please*. Three fractured lines. No punctuation. That single 'please'—you only use that word when you're drowning. And I'm already moving, sliding out from under the sheets, grabbing my jeans and hoodie from the floor. My wallet goes into my pocket, keys into my hand. I don't think. I just go. Because that's what I do, right? Show up. Hold you. Pretend it doesn't tear me apart to watch you…