Chapter 2
CHAPTER
TWO
AFTER
I t looked like rain. The sky was a thick, unbroken expanse of gray, the kind that made it hard to tell where the clouds ended and the horizon began. A quiet rumble of thunder echoed in the distance, like a promise. That suited me just fine. I pulled my hood over my head, its fabric muffling the world, and started running. The early morning air was cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and eucalyptus.
This felt good. The steady rhythm of my feet hitting the pavement, the sound of my breath, the faint patter of drizzle starting to fall—everything was mechanical. Each step was a distraction, each breath a way to keep my mind from drifting. I didn’t have to think about anything. If my thoughts started to wander, to creep back to memories of him, I could just push myself harder. I could feel the burn in my muscles and the strain in my lungs, and then everything would clear up again.
The trail was almost deserted at this hour, the usual bustle of joggers and dog walkers absent. It was just me and the rain, a thin mist turning into heavier drops that dripped from the leaves and collected in shallow puddles. My shoes splashed through them, sending small arcs of water into the air.
I ran for almost an hour, the rain gradually intensifying until it was pouring. My clothes were soaked through, clinging to my skin, but I didn’t care. The rain was a curtain, hiding the world from view, isolating me in my own bubble of exertion. But the downpour eventually forced me to return. My body was chilled, my fingers numb, and I knew I couldn’t stay out much longer without risking a cold.
When I reached my apartment, water streamed off my jacket and pooled on the floor as I fumbled with the keys. I pushed the door to my room open and saw Ezra sitting on the bed.
He looked up, eyebrows raised. “You were running in the rain? Angst much?” he said, not unkindly, but with that familiar teasing edge.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, starting to peel off my sodden clothes.
“I’m here for the show,” he said as I pulled my shirt off. I glared, not in the mood for jokes. “Come on, Att. I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine,” I lied, my voice flat. I toweled off and changed into dry clothes. I faced him, hands on my hips, feeling the familiar tension of frustration and fatigue.
“You look far from fine,” he said, concern deepening the lines on his forehead.
I couldn’t meet his eyes. Instead, I moved to my desk chair and sat down, staring out the window at the rain now hammering against the glass.
“I am,” I told him, annoyed. Why couldn’t they just leave me alone? “I told Colin, Hank, and the rest of the team the same thing when they showed up unannounced. I’m not a kid. I don’t need you checking up on me.”
Ezra didn’t look mad. He was worried. I clicked my tongue in annoyance.
“Att, it’s been months. He left months ago,” he said.
“Trust me, I’m aware.”
“Fine, you’re going to class. But are you talking to anybody? Because you sure as hell don’t talk to anyone on the team. You just sulk in here all day. I get it. You’re sad, but you need to start getting over it,” he said patiently.
“I’m not sad,” I said. Sad was such a small word compared to what I really felt.
“Yeah, you are, and it’s okay, but you have to get over it,” he insisted.
“Why?” I asked.
He blinked.
“Why do I have to get over it? It’s not easy. He was everything, and now he’s gone. I think I’m allowed to not be over it yet.”
“Let’s go out,” he suggested.
“I don’t want to go out,” I told him.
“Come on, it’ll be fun. You could meet someone,” he said.
“I don’t want to meet anybody; I just want you to let me be miserable in peace,” I snapped. He gave me a serious look until I sighed and glanced back out the window.
“You’re not the first person who’s ever been dumped, Att,” he said.
I pressed my lips together. I knew that. It didn’t make it any better.
“I know you refuse to lean on anybody, but I’m not leaving you alone with this. I can see how miserable you are. Just let me help,” he pleaded.
“I think you’ve helped enough,” I said.
He let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, so now this is my fault?” he asked, shaking his head .
I stared down at my lap. No, it wasn’t. Honestly, Ezra was the last person who deserved my wrath.
“It’s not,” I started to say.
He pushed off the bed. “You know, Att, sometimes you make it really fucking hard to be your friend. Did you know that?” he asked angrily.
I looked up at him, feeling shame grip me at the sight of his pissed-off face.
“I’m starving, so I’m going to get something to eat. Do you feel like pizza?” he asked in the same tone, still angry.
A smile tugged at my lips and then a chuckle bubbled through.
He closed his eyes and sighed. “Finally.”
“I’m sorry. Pizza sounds great,” I told him.
He smiled. “I’ll be right back. It’s going to be okay, big guy. You’ll get over it. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but you will.”
I raised a shoulder in response, the smile slipping from my face. I didn’t think so.
The door closed behind him, leaving me alone with the patter of rain on the window. I rubbed my eyes, feeling the fatigue settle in. Six months had passed since he left, but it felt like a lifetime. Each day blended into the next, a monotonous blur of classes, training, and sleepless nights. I thought I’d be over it by now, but the ache in my chest said otherwise.
I stood up and moved to the window, watching the raindrops race down the glass. The campus looked almost deserted in the rain. Students with umbrellas hurried to their classes, heads down against the wind. I could see the running trail from here, now empty and slick with water.
I turned away from the window, feeling a lump rise in my throat. Ezra was right, though. I couldn’t keep living like this, stuck in the past and shutting everyone out. But moving on seemed impossible. He really had been everything.
Sighing, I sat back down on the bed, running a hand through my damp hair. I laid down, staring at the ceiling, and let the sound of the rain lull me into a state of numbness. It was better than feeling the pain, even if just for a moment. He took off without a word and never answered his phone. That’s how he broke it off. It took me weeks to admit it was over, that he wouldn’t return or call or anything. He just left.
That day with Ezra gave me the push I needed to accept it and start moving on. It took me twice as many months to even look at anybody else, and almost two years to feel like I was over him.
After winter break in my third year, I was feeling much better. The crushing weight of the past years had started to lift, and I found myself breathing easier, smiling more. I hardly ever thought about him. If I heard his name, I could just walk away without listening. I had thrown myself into my studies and running, finding solace in the steady rhythms they provided.
There was a bittersweet taste in the air as I walked with Colin and Ezra to the clubhouse. It was their last semester on the team. Colin had debated returning, but Ezra had convinced him, as usual.
“There’s a start-of-the-term party on Saturday,” Colin said.
I groaned. “Fucking parties,” I muttered, and they both tittered.
“God, why do you have to be so boring?” Ezra asked.
“They don’t get any better. It’s the same people, drunk and sweating in a hot, dark room. Why would you want to go to that?” I replied.
“Because it’s our last first party,” he said.
“I don’t want to go. I’m not going. I hate these things. You know I hate these things,” I told him .
“Yeah, we’ve heard,” Colin said, looking down at his phone with a frown.
“We could go out,” Ezra suggested.
“I’m still underage,” I reminded him.
“God, you’re boring,” he said, but his smirk betrayed his words. “So I guess you just have to go to the party,” he added.
“Or I could just not go,” I said.
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.