17 going home
The walk back to campus is colder than I expect, the kind of cold that settles under your hoodie and stays there, and by the time I cut across the parking lot behind the dorms, the alcohol's starting to hit differently now, less loud and fun and more heavy, sitting low in my stomach while my head buzzes in that exhausted post-game way that always comes after too much adrenaline and too little sleep.
I should still be at the party.
That's the thing.
I should still be there with Scott and the rest of the team, drunk and loud and celebrating the first win of the season like normal people.
Instead I left because suddenly being there felt exhausting.
Or maybe empty.
Which is worse somehow.
I shove my hands deeper into my hoodie pocket while climbing the dorm steps two at a time, trying not to think too hard about why the idea of going back to the room felt better than staying at a party with a hundred people in it.
That thought alone should concern me.
Especially because I already know exactly who's probably still awake in there.
The hallway outside our room is quiet when I get upstairs, most people either out partying or passed out already, and I unlock the door as carefully as possible because the last thing I need tonight is Coleman yelling at me for waking her up again.
But the room isn't dark.
The lamp beside her bed is still on, warm yellow light filling the room softly enough that it catches me off guard for a second after the chaos of the party.
Everly's sitting cross-legged against the wall with her laptop balanced on her thighs, giant gray sweatshirt covering half her hands while she highlights something in a textbook with the kind of concentration that makes the little line appear between her eyebrows.
She looks up immediately when I walk in. "You're back early."
And fucking hell, maybe I'm more drunk than I thought because something in my chest loosens embarrassingly fast at the sound of her voice alone.
"Apparently," I mutter, shutting the door behind me.
Everly watches me carefully for about two seconds before snorting quietly. "Jesus Christ."
"What?"
"You look destroyed."
"That's hurtful."
"You smell like beer and bad decisions."
"That's football culture, Coleman."
"That explains a lot actually."
I laugh under my breath while dropping my keys onto the desk, missing the edge slightly because apparently my coordination decided to stay at the party.
Everly notices immediately.
"Oh my God," she says, actually smiling now. "You're drunk drunk."
"I'm functioning."
"You just lost a fight with your own desk."
"The desk came at me first."
"That sounds legally questionable."
I point at her seriously. "Exactly."
She shakes her head, laughing quietly to herself before glancing back at her laptop. The room settles again after that, softer than the party was, quieter in a way that makes me suddenly realize how tired I actually am.
Not just physically either.
Just tired in general.
I grab water from the mini fridge and lean back against the desk while Everly keeps pretending to study, although I can tell she's barely reading anymore because she keeps glancing up every few seconds like she's trying to figure something out.
"You didn't feel like partying?" she asks eventually.
I twist the water bottle open slowly. "Felt like leaving."
That gets her attention properly. Her eyebrows pull together slightly. "That's new."
"Yeah, well." I shrug. "Maybe I'm growing as a person."
"I'd hate that for you."
"Thanks."
"Anytime."
A smile keeps threatening at the corner of her mouth while she says it, and for some reason that makes the room feel even warmer.
Dangerous.
Very dangerous.
Everly closes the laptop halfway. "You played really well tonight."
There's no joke attached to it this time, no sarcasm.
Just honest.
I look away automatically, taking another drink of water mostly so I have something to do with my hands. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," she says simply. "You looked happy."
That catches me off guard more than it should.
Most people talk about catches.
Stats.
Wins.
Not happy.
I lean my head back against the desk behind me, staring at the ceiling for a second. "Guess I was."
She studies me quietly for another second before speaking again. "Do you ever get tired of it?"
"Football?"
"The pressure."
I let out a slow breath through my nose. "Constantly."
The honesty slips out easier than usual tonight, probably because my brain's still half drowned in alcohol and exhaustion, all the walls slightly looser around the edges than they normally are.
Everly closes the laptop fully now, setting it beside her. "You hide it well."
"Yeah," I mutter. "That's kinda the point."
The room goes quiet for a second after that, traffic humming faintly outside while somebody down the hallway laughs loud enough to echo through the vents.
"My parents aren't even the pressure," I hear myself admit. "That's the weird part."
Everly stays quiet, letting me keep talking instead of jumping in immediately like most people do.
"They're good people," I continue, rubbing a hand over my jaw slowly. "Like actually good people. They never pushed me into football or anything. I just..." I shrug once. "I wanna make it work anyway."
"The NFL."
"Yeah."
"You will."
She says it immediately, like there's not even another possibility.
I laugh quietly. "You sound very confident for somebody who still doesn't understand football."
"I understand enough."
"That's concerning."
"You're easy to read when you stop acting like an asshole."
I snort out a laugh before I can stop it. "That was aggressive."
"It was observant."
"Same thing."
Everly smiles slightly at that, but it fades after a second when her eyes drift toward the window instead. "My dad used to promise he'd come to Logan's games."
Something in her voice changes immediately.
Softer.
Thinner somehow.
I stay quiet.
"He usually didn't," she continues after a second. "Always some excuse afterward too. Work. Traffic. Forgot." She lets out a small laugh that doesn't sound remotely amused. "Like you accidentally forget your own kids."
"Jesus Christ," I mutter, grip tightening slightly around the water bottle before I even realize it.
"Yeah."
She pulls one knee closer to her chest absently, sweatshirt sleeve covering most of her hand.
"He didn't just leave either," she says quietly. "He left for another woman. Full cliché affair situation."
Something sharp flashes through my chest immediately.
Anger mostly.
At a man I've never even met.
"And now he acts more like a dad to her kids than he ever did to us."
I stare at her. "What?"
Everly shrugs like she's talking about weather instead of something that clearly still hurts every time she says it out loud.
"He goes to their soccer games," she says. "Posts pictures with them online. Takes them on vacations." Another quiet laugh. "Meanwhile Logan and I get birthday texts like three days late."
"Who the fuck does that?"
"He calls sometimes," she continues like I didn't even speak. "Mostly when he feels guilty, I think."
"And you answer?"
The question slips out before I can stop it.
Everly goes quiet for a second, then shrugs again, smaller this time.
"I don't know," she says honestly. "I think part of me keeps hoping he'll randomly wake up one day and decide he actually wants to be my dad."
That one hits hard enough to sober me slightly.
Because suddenly Logan makes more sense too.
Why he watches everything so closely around her.
Why he acts like every guy on earth is automatically dangerous.
Someone already failed her once.
Badly.
Everly notices me staring and immediately tries changing the subject.
"Anyway," she says lightly, "that got depressing fast."
"Coleman."
"What?"
"Your dad's a dick."
That pulls a real laugh out of her this time, small and surprised.
"Yeah," she says quietly. "Little bit."
The room settles again after that, quiet but not uncomfortable, and I realize somewhere in the middle of it that I don't actually want this conversation to end.
Which is definitely the alcohol talking.
Probably.
Everly looks back at me carefully after a minute. "Can I ask you something?"
"That depends."
"That's already suspicious."
"Proceed carefully."
She rolls her eyes slightly. "Why girls?"
I frown. "What?"
"The partying. Hooking up with random girls. All of it." She tilts her head slightly. "Why that specifically?"
I let out a slow breath, rubbing tiredly at my face.
"No idea."
"That's bullshit."
I laugh quietly. "You're annoying."
"You're avoiding the question."
Unfortunately true.
I stare down at the water bottle in my hands for a second before answering. "They're easy."
Everly stays quiet.
"No expectations," I continue eventually. "Nobody asks real questions. Nobody expects anything except showing up and having fun."
"And that works?"
"Usually."
"But not tonight."
That lands immediately.
I glance over at her.
She's watching me too closely again, like she sees way more than I'm saying out loud, and for some reason I don't hate it as much as I probably should.
"I guess not tonight," I admit quietly.
Silence stretches between us again.
Not awkward.
Just still enough that I suddenly become too aware of everything, the dim light beside her bed, the sound of her fingers tapping lightly against her knee, the fact that I came back here because some part of me wanted this instead.
Wanted her.
Which feels like a very bad idea.
Everly smiles slightly. "This is weird."
"Very."
"You're voluntarily having emotions."
"Don't ruin the moment."
She laughs softly at that, and before I can stop myself-
"Everly."
Her name leaves my mouth naturally this time.
Not Coleman.
Not sarcastic.
Just her.
She goes still immediately.
And fuck, I feel it too.
The shift.
The room suddenly smaller somehow, warmer and quieter and a little too charged all at once.
Her eyes lock onto mine for half a second too long.
Neither of us says anything. Because suddenly it feels like maybe we should.
So I break eye contact first.
Probably smart.
"Go to sleep," I mutter, grabbing my hoodie from the chair beside me. "You've been staring at statistics for like six hours."
Everly still looks slightly thrown off, but she recovers enough to roll her eyes lightly. "You're deflecting again."
"Correct."
"That's annoying."
"Goodnight, Coleman."
That earns the smallest smile from her before she finally turns the lamp off.
And later, lying awake in the dark while the alcohol slowly fades out of my system, all I can think about is the fact that I left a party full of people because I wanted to come back here instead.