23 get in line
I wake up feeling like God personally punched me in the skull overnight.
The room's still dim, sunlight barely slipping through the blinds while somebody breathes softly beside me and every memory from last night crashes back immediately afterward.
Everly leaving.
Her face.
The way the room felt wrong the second she walked out.
Fuck.
Real mature, Bennett.
I drag a hand down my face slowly before glancing toward Everly's side of the room automatically.
Empty.
Blanket untouched.
Desk lamp still on.
Her guitar leaning against the chair exactly where she left it.
The room feels weird without her in it now.
Not quieter.
Worse.
Like something important got removed without warning.
Beside me, Chloe shifts slightly before blinking awake slowly.
"Oh my God," she mutters immediately. "I forgot you had a roommate."
"Yeah."
Excellent conversational skills from both of us honestly.
She sits up awkwardly, hair a complete disaster while I already reach for my phone because suddenly I need to know where Everly is with an urgency that feels deeply concerning.
No messages.
Which somehow annoys me even more.
Chloe notices me staring at my phone and gives me a look immediately. "You want me to leave."
Straight to the point.
I exhale slowly. "I don't wanna be a dick."
"That means yes."
"Probably."
She laughs once under her breath, not even offended anymore. "Football players are exhausting."
"That feels fair."
"You were way more interested in your roommate than me last night."
That lands directly in my chest hard enough to piss me off instantly.
Mostly because she's right.
I stay quiet.
Chloe watches my face for a second before shaking her head while climbing out of bed.
"Good luck with that," she says casually.
"With what?"
"The girl you're obviously obsessed with."
Then she grabs her shoes and leaves before I can answer.
The door shuts.
Silence settles again.
And suddenly I'm alone with the fact that apparently random girls at parties understand my life better than I do.
Fantastic.
I stare at Everly's empty bed for another minute before finally unlocking my phone.
No sarcasm, no joke.
Just flat and quiet even through text somehow.
Shit.
I lean back against the wall slowly.
Nothing.
A full minute passes.
That's worse.
Way worse.
Because Everly always argues back.
Always jokes.
Always says something sarcastic.
This feels like hitting a wall.
I stare at the conversation for another second before typing again.
Deleting it.
Typing something else.
Deleting that too.
Because suddenly I have absolutely no idea how to talk to her anymore.
-
By the time Everly comes back that afternoon, I've cleaned the entire room twice and nearly driven myself insane.
Which is deeply embarrassing.
The door opens quietly while I'm pretending to watch football highlights on my laptop, and the second I look up, my chest tightens again immediately.
She looks tired.
Not angry exactly.
Just... hurt.
And somehow that's worse.
Everly avoids looking directly at me at first while dropping her bag beside the bed.
"Hey," I say carefully.
"Hey."
Short.
Quiet.
Wrong.
I shut my laptop slowly. "You good?"
That almost makes her laugh. Almost. "You seriously asking me that right now?"
Defensive instinct kicks in immediately because apparently emotional vulnerability physically kills me. "I mean, you seem pissed."
Everly finally looks at me then, and something twists sharply in my stomach because her eyes look shiny like she's been trying very hard not to cry.
Fuck.
Immediately fuck.
"You keep doing this," she says quietly.
"Doing what?"
"Pulling me close and then acting like I imagined it."
The room goes completely still.
I stare at her while my heartbeat starts punching hard against my ribs for reasons I absolutely do not want to examine.
Everly folds her arms tightly across herself now like she's holding herself together physically.
"You make me feel important," she continues softly. "Then you turn around and bring random girls home like none of it means anything."
I swallow hard.
Because suddenly every single thing I've been trying not to think about all week crashes directly into me at once.
The late-night talk.
The way I look for her automatically now.
The fact that the room feels empty without her in it.
I open my mouth before I can stop myself. "Everly, I-"
And there it is.
Panic.
Immediate.
Violent.
Automatic.
Football.
The NFL.
Distraction.
Attachment.
Everything falling apart if I let somebody matter too much.
So instead of finishing the sentence like a normal human being, I do the worst possible thing.
I laugh softly.
Not because anything's funny.
Because I'm scared.
And then I hear myself say it. "Get in line, Coleman."
The second the words leave my mouth, I want them back immediately.
Everly goes completely still.
Not angry, not dramatic.
Just quiet.
And somehow that's infinitely worse.
Because I watch the exact moment something shuts down behind her eyes.
"Oh," she says softly.
That's it.
Just oh.
She nods once slowly like she's finally understanding something.
Then she grabs her hoodie from the chair.
"Right," she says quietly.
"Coleman-"
But she's already moving toward the door.
I stand up fast. "Everly, wait."
She pauses for half a second without turning around.
And when she finally speaks again, her voice sounds calm enough to destroy me completely. "I think you should stop pretending you care when you clearly don't."
Then she leaves.
The door closes behind her softly.
And I just stand there in the middle of the room feeling like the biggest fucking asshole on the planet.
Because the worst part is that she was right.
I do care.
Way too much actually.
And I just completely fucked it up anyway.