Chapter Eight
Growing Pains
Ethan
College
I t’s been a couple of weeks since move-in for junior year, and everything’s a blur. My days are crammed with practice, conditioning, and study sessions with the team, while my nights… well, those barely feel like mine anymore. Between everything I’m expected to keep up with, I’m on autopilot most of the time. College life is no fucking joke! With junior year kicking off, everything feels more intense. Practice has ramped up, classes are tougher, and the pressure is on in ways I never expected. College isn’t just an experience anymore; it’s a countdown.
Emma’s been the same, buried under stacks of books and assignments. She’s majoring in English—or something that lets her spend half her day reading novels no one else has the patience for. Sometimes, I’ll catch her in the library, hunched over a pile of books, completely focused. She looks ready to tackle every essay, every line of text, as if it holds the key to something bigger.
I know it’s good for her—she loves this stuff. But damn, I barely see her anymore, and when I do, she’s either too exhausted to talk or rushing off to her next study group. It’s weird to think we’re juniors already, just one more year before everything shifts again. We’re supposed to be growing up, finding direction. But if that’s true, why does it feel like she and I are drifting in opposite directions?
One night, after practice, I spot her outside the library. She’s with a couple of classmates, laughing, looking so… comfortable with them. The scene hits me hard, a reminder that she has her own world here, separate from me. It’s strange, realizing I’m not the center of it anymore.
“Hey, Em,” I say, coming up behind her.
She turns, her face lighting up for a second before the weariness settles back in. “Hey, stranger! How was practice?”
“Exhausting,” I shrug, glancing at the group she’s with and smiling at them. “Just figured I’d check in. Haven’t seen you much lately.”
She gives me a sympathetic smile, but I can tell her mind’s half with the conversation with her friends. “I know. It’s just…a lot. This one class alone is kicking my ass.” She laughs, but there’s a hint of stress beneath it .
I want to tell her it’s fine, that I understand. And I do—school’s been crazy for both of us. But I still miss her, and part of me wishes she’d carve out more time for me, the way I always seem to for her.
I nod, trying to brush it off like it doesn’t bother me. I get it—she’s meeting new people, finding her place here. But every time I see her surrounded by faces I don’t recognize, there’s this strange pang of… something I can’t quite name. Jealousy? Loneliness? Maybe a mix of both. She’s diving headfirst into this new life, while I’m stuck on the sidelines, watching it all unfold without me.
“So, uh, when do you get a break from all this studying?” I ask, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice.
She glances back at her friends, then looks at me, a little apologetic. “Honestly? I don’t know. This professor is intense. There’s this whole project we’re supposed to do on top of the readings, and then there’s a ton of essays… I feel like I’m already behind.”
I force a smile. “I get it. You’re busy. But I just…miss you, you know?”
She gives me a soft smile, but her eyes are already wandering back to her group. “Me too, Ethan. Maybe we can grab coffee sometime?”
I nod, but the suggestion feels hollow, more of a courtesy than anything else. “Yeah, sure. Just let me know. ”
She gives my arm a quick squeeze, then heads back to her group, laughing at something one of the guys says. I watch her walk away, feeling like I’m losing a part of her to something I can’t even compete with.
Over the next few weeks, things only get worse. The more she immerses herself in her studies, the more I feel the gap widening between us. Every time I think about reaching out, there’s another practice, another late-night workout, or some team meeting I can’t skip.
One Friday night, after a long week of classes and drills, I text her.
Me : You around? Wanna grab something to eat?
Emma : Hey! Wish I could, but I’m swamped. Big paper due Monday. Rain check?
Me : Yeah, no worries. Good luck.
It’s becoming a pattern, and I hate it. We’re orbiting around each other, but we’re never in the same place, never getting that chance to just be us. She’s got her literature thing, and I’ve got football, and every day, and I’m afraid we’re growing into two completely different people.
Growing apart.
A week later, I spot her again, this time at one of the student lounges, her head buried in a thick book, her face a mix of concentration and exhaustion. She doesn’t even notice me coming up to her until I’m right in front of her.
“Hey,” I say, and she looks up, surprised, as if she never expected to see me here at all.
“Oh, hey, Ethan!” She smiles, but there’s this weariness in her eyes that makes me hesitate.
“Thought maybe we could hang out? It’s been a while,” I suggest, hoping she’ll say yes, hoping she’ll ditch the books for just a few hours.
She bites her lip, looking almost guilty. “I really want to, but I’m so behind. There’s this seminar I’m trying to prepare for, and if I don’t finish…” Her voice trails off, her focus already shifting back to her reading.
I nod, forcing a smile. “Yeah, no, it’s cool. I get it.”
She reaches out, touching my arm. “Soon, okay? I promise.”
But I’m starting to doubt that. She’s slipping away, piece by piece, and I don’t know how to bring her back.
The frustration builds, festering like an itch I can’t scratch. I’m running drills with the team, lifting more weight than I probably should, pushing myself past my limits just to clear my head. But it’s not working. Every time I finish a set, every time I catch a break, the same thought creeps back: Emma’s off in her own world, and I’m not part of it anymore .
One night after practice, I head to the student union, grabbing some food. I’m hoping maybe I’ll run into her. But as I sit there, poking at my food, I realize how pathetic this is. I shouldn’t be waiting around like some lost puppy. I have my own thing going on, right? Football, the team… that should be enough.
But it’s not.
Just as I’m about to leave, I spot her walking in with her group of bookish friends. They’re all laughing, carrying stacks of books and notebooks, looking like they just came from some study session. I can’t help but notice the way she lights up around them, that same spark she used to have when it was just the two of us.
Without thinking, I call out, “Emma!”
She glances over, surprised to see me. Her smile flickers a bit as she makes her way over, her friends hanging back, watching us with curious eyes.
“Hey, Ethan,” she says, and there’s that polite, almost distant tone again, the one I’ve been hearing more and more.
I try to shake off the frustration and keep things light. “You, uh, forgot to call for that rain check on coffee.”
She laughs, but it feels forced. “Yeah, sorry about that. Things have been… kind of crazy. ”
“Yeah, I get it. New world, new friends,” I say, my voice coming out more bitter than I intended.
Her smile disappears, shifting into something between guilt and frustration. “It’s not like that, Ethan. I just have a lot on my plate right now.”
“Yeah, don’t we all?” I reply, and I see her tense up. Her friends shift uncomfortably, clearly feeling like they’re intruding.
She gives me a look, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I should get back to my friends. I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”
“Sure,” I say, forcing a smile. But as she turns back to her group, laughing at something one of the guys says, I feel that familiar sting of jealousy creeping in again. “But you probably won’t!” I mutter under my breath. I think she might have heard me because she looks over her shoulder and gets a sad look on her face. Well, you brought that on yourself sweetheart.
A few nights later, I’m at a team party. It’s loud, packed, and my head’s already buzzing from a couple of beers. I’m trying to have a good time, trying to lose myself in the noise and the crowd, but I can’t shake the feeling of frustration that’s been building for weeks.
One of the guys on the team, Jace, claps me on the shoulder. “Dude, lighten up! You look like you’re about to punch someone. ”
I force a laugh. “Just…a lot on my mind.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Oh, let me guess. The ‘friend’ you keep mooning over? What’s her name…Emily?”
“Emma and shut up, man,” I mutter, but he just laughs.
“Hey, you’re the one sitting here all broody. Either do something about it or move on, man. There’s a ton of people here who’d be happy to take your mind off things.” He gestures around the room, nodding toward a group of girls by the bar who are looking right back at us.
I glance over, feeling a surge of irritation. But then, almost out of spite, I grab my drink and make my way over to the group. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I do need to just move on, stop waiting around for Emma to find time for me.
Juniors like us don’t usually get scout attention until later in the season, but Coach says it’s because a few teams are looking to fill spots faster this year. So I might as well make the most of it.
The girl I end up talking to is Brianna, I think that’s what she said. She’s fun, confident, and clearly interested. We laugh, talk, and for a little while, I actually manage to forget about everything else. But as the night goes on, I feel this nagging sense of emptiness. I keep trying to fill a void that just…not go ing away.
When Brianna leans in, her hand on my thigh, I know she’s expecting something more, but all I can think about is Emma.
And I hate it.
Then I decide, why the fuck not! So I let Brianna kiss me. That kiss turns into a make out session and the guilt hits me hard.
The next day, I’m back on campus, trying to get my head in the game, but the memory of last night lingers. I end up seeing Emma near the library, her nose buried in a book as usual. She looks up and spots me, her eyes widening a bit, like she’s surprised to see me.
We stand there in awkward silence for a moment before she finally speaks. “How’s football?”
“Fine. How’s, uh…” I motion to her books “whatever it is you’re doing?”
She frowns, clearly not impressed by my sarcasm. “I’m doing great, thanks. Actually, I just got assigned as a teaching assistant for a literature class next semester. It’s not something a junior usually gets but my professor was really impressed by my work.”
“Oh, wow, a teaching assistant. That’s…intense,” I say, feeling a mix of pride for her and jealousy. She’s moving forward, doing these amazing things, and I’m just…stuck .
Her expression softens a bit. “Yeah. It’s kind of a big deal. It’s not something I thought I’d get, honestly.”
“You deserve it, Em,” I say, meaning it, but there’s a bitterness in my voice I can’t hide.
She looks at me, her brows knitting together in that way she does when she’s trying to understand something. “Are we okay, Ethan? It feels like there’s…something off between us.”
I almost laugh at the irony. She’s been so wrapped up in her new world, her new friends, and now she’s wondering what’s changed?
“I don’t know, Emma. Are we?” I don’t try to hide the sarcasm, my voice dripping with it.
She looks away, biting her lip. “I’m sorry if I’ve been distant. This year has just been… a lot for me. I’m trying to figure it all out.”
I nod, the frustration still simmering even as I try to understand. “Yeah, I get it. But it’s been a lot for me too.”
She gives me a small, almost sad smile. “Maybe we’ll both figure it out. Together.”
But as she walks away, I wonder if it’s already too late.
As the weeks pass, our routines fall into place but we’ve drifted apart. Football and training devour every free minute I have, and every time I think about texting Emma, another commitment pops up, and my phone stays in my pocket. Still, I catch myself looking for her whenever I walk across campus, half hoping I’ll bump into her.
But every time I see her, she’s buried in her books or with people from her classes. I never realized how serious she was about her major until college hit. Emma’s not just here to breeze through the four years. She’s here on a mission.
One night, after a brutal practice, I manage to escape the team and spot her in the library through the glass. She’s sitting at a table by the window, hunched over, chewing on a pen while she scribbles notes. I let myself watch for a second, maybe just to remind myself of what used to be so easy between us. But then, as if she senses it, she looks up, catching my gaze. I wave, hoping for a sign to come in, but she just gives a small smile and goes back to her book.
I think about texting her, maybe even showing up with her favorite coffee to catch her off guard. But she’s so focused, eyes glued to her books and the rest of the world doesn’t exist. The door’s half-open, and I almost step in, but something stops me. She’s in her own world, and I’m just on the outside, looking in. It seems as though every time I try to reach her, she slips further away, her focus consumed by something that doesn’t include me.
It’s Friday night, and I finally get a break from practice. Some of the guys want to go out, hit up a nearby party for drinks, and part of me feels like I need it—a night to let loose, to forget about school and football and everything else I keep telling myself I don’t have time for. I debate on whether I should text Emma, thinking maybe she’ll want to join, but I know it’s a long shot.
Still, I give it a shot.
Me : Going out tonight with some of the guys. Want to come with?
The dots appear for a second, but then they disappear. My stomach twists, but before I can dwell on it, my phone dings.
Emma : Sorry, I’ve got a study group for Lit. Enjoy the night, though!
I sigh, shoving my phone back into my pocket. I know she’s serious about her studies, and I’m proud of her for it. But I can’t shake this feeling—that she’s choosing all of that over me. And I hate myself for even thinking that way. She deserves to do well, and I should be supportive. But right now? Right now, it feels like I’m always coming in last.
……………………………………………………………
By the time midterms roll around, we’re practically strangers sharing the same campus. I see her less and less, and when I do, she’s always with someone new—a friend from her Lit class, or someone she met in a new study group. And maybe it’s just my own jealousy, but I can’t help noticing how happy she looks with them, laughing at some inside joke that I’m no longer a part of.
We finally get a chance to hang out on a Saturday afternoon, when I convince her to meet me for coffee. I get there early, finding a corner booth and ordering her favorite drink, hoping we can slip back into that easy rhythm. But when she arrives, she’s got her laptop with her, textbooks sticking out of her bag, and the conversation quickly veers from old jokes to academic catch-up.
She’s talking about this professor who’s inspired her to consider graduate school, and I try to focus, to listen, but all I hear is how much she’s loving her life here—without me in it.
“So, yeah,” she says, her eyes lighting up, “there’s this internship, and if I can manage it, it could lead to something big after graduation. Professor Klein thinks I have a shot.”
“That’s… great, Em,” I say, though my voice doesn’t carry the enthusiasm she deserves. “You really seem to be settling in here.”
She catches it, her brow furrowing. “Is everything okay, Ethan?”
I shrug, looking away. “Yeah, just… you’ve got all this stuff going on, you know? Sometimes it feels like you’re too busy to even notice I’m here. ”
She frowns, her hand brushing against mine. “Ethan, you’re the one who’s constantly tied up with practice. You don’t think I miss you too?”
The words hit me, and guilt bubbles up. I can’t deny that she’s right. But part of me still wants to say it out loud—that I feel like I’m losing her, that we’re drifting apart. But the last thing I want is to weigh her down with my insecurities. She’s doing amazing things. She doesn’t need me dragging her down.
“Sorry,” I say, brushing it off. “I didn’t mean to get all… dramatic.”
She gives me a soft smile, squeezing my hand. “We’ll figure it out, okay? We always do.”
And I want to believe her—I really do. But as she pulls out her laptop and starts showing me the projects she’s working on, I can’t shake the feeling that we’re standing on opposite sides of a line neither of us meant to cross.
That night, lying in bed, I find myself scrolling through old photos of us. There’s one from our first day of high school, with Emma grinning up at me, her arm slung around my waist like she’d never let go. And then another from junior year, a candid shot where she’s laughing at something I said. Everything feels so close, but far enough that I can’t reach it. We’ve both changed. She’s found her world here, and I’m struggling to find my place in it .
I tell myself, like I have every night since school started, that I’ll do whatever it takes to keep us together.
Even if it means learning to let her go.