Chapter 34 – Alise #3
He scans the group as if he’s looking for volunteers, then points dramatically at me. “Alise, my new favorite now-familiar female. Tell them I’m charming.”
I calmly take a sip from my cup, completely immune to his theatrics. “You’re exhausting.”
Kyle reels back as if he’s been personally attacked, clutching his chest with mock offense.
“She didn’t even blink,” Ramona whispers to Michele, who’s too busy trying not to cry from laughing.
“Did you hear that?” Kyle turns to Darius for backup like he’s about to be vindicated. “You heard her disrespect me, right?”
“Loud and clear,” Darius says, sliding in beside Ramona like he’s been waiting for his cue. “And honestly? She’s not wrong. I was trying to find a nice way to say it, too.”
“Wait—hold on. Who even are you?” Kyle blinks like his brain blue-screened.
“That’s Darius.”
“You’re Darius?”
“In the flesh.” Darius gives a casual two-finger salute, not even flinching.
“You’re way taller than I thought. Also, way more real.” Kyle stares at him like he’s seeing a glitch in the matrix.
“I get that a lot.”
“You sound shorter through the headset,” Kyle says, narrowing his eyes. “Like someone who wouldn’t destroy me at FIFA every damn time.”
“I let you win.”
“You absolutely did not.”
“Sure, Grandpa.” Darius shrugs, completely unfazed.
“Grandpa? I’m twenty-two!” Kyle recoils as if someone stabbed him.
“That’s basically a few years from retirement in pro athlete years.”
“You think I need to carry a cane?” Kyle clutches his chest. “Do I look like I should go buy a pair of orthopedic sneakers?”
“I heard you groan when you got out of the car.” Ramona hums, her eyes light with mischief.
“I’d been stuck in the middle seat for over an hour with my knees practically in my throat.”
“The youngest always sits bitch; them’s the breaks, kiddo,” Cole chimes in without missing a beat. “Next thing we know, he’s going to blame the weather.”
“I have complex joints!”
Darius leans forward, stage-whispering behind his hand but loud enough for the whole box to hear. “It’s giving old-man energy. Should we get him a Life Alert?”
Ramona snorts into her drink, and Michele tries to smother a laugh behind her hand, failing miserably.
“I’m not that old!” Kyle groans, throwing his head back. “Besides, you are literally fourteen. Your brain’s not even done cooking yet.”
“And yet, I’m still winning.” Darius sips his soda with the smugness of a cartoon villain.
“Are you hearing this?” Kyle swivels toward Michele, eyes wide in mock betrayal. “Are you really going to let your best friend get absolutely annihilated by a Gen Z hockey gremlin?”
“Darius is delightful.” Michele doesn’t even hesitate.
“What the hell, Michele? Some bestie you are.” Kyle pouts, scanning the room for someone to come to his rescue.
“You texted me delulu is the solulu because I said I had homework.”
“I was encouraging you!”
Ramona leans in, eyes sparkling. “I told you he’d spiral the second you met in person.”
“I’m not spiraling,” Kyle insists. “I’m reevaluating my entire friendship with Michele. She promised me you were a potato in real life. You betrayed me.”
“Oh my God.” I laugh so hard my stomach hurts. “You are so dramatic.”
“I’m an artist of the soul.” Kyle places a hand on his chest like he’s starring in a telenovela.
“More like a chaos goblin,” Darius mutters.
“Arthritis goblin,” Cole adds with a smirk.
“May he rest in vibes,” Ramona murmurs, raising her drink in solemn tribute.
Michele pats Kyle’s cheek. “Okay, okay, you monsters. Leave my sunshiny dumbass of a bestie alone.”
“I’m not dumb,” Kyle mutters.
“No,” she says sweetly. “Just aggressively confident about things you’re wrong about.”
I’m grinning so hard my eyes water. The air is bright with noise and teasing and the kind of love that wraps itself around insults like a bow, but then the sound blurs just a little. The way it does when your brain drifts somewhere else.
I glance toward the tunnel again, wondering what Beau is doing.
Would he respond if I just sent a quick text telling him good luck or a stupid emoji like we’ve done for years?
The muscle-flex emoji. The fire emoji. The otter emoji, for reasons neither of us will ever explain.
A part of me dies inside, thinking of going back to the way things were.
I reach into my pocket, my fingers brushing against my phone, but I don’t grab it.
The noise around me keeps going. Kyle rants about FIFA physics, Michele argues that golden retrievers have more emotional range than he does, and Darius is roasting him with surgical precision, but I feel like I’m floating above it all.
“You’re doing that thing,” Cole murmurs under his breath.
“What thing?” I ask, even though I already know.
“The thing where you go quiet and look like you’re about to either cry or start rearranging your whole life.”
“I’m fine.” I exhale a soft, guilty laugh.
“You’re not,” he says gently, bumping my shoulder. “Which is okay. He’s probably nervous about the game. You should go check on him.”
“I don’t want to bother him before the game,” I mumble, even though my legs already want to move.
“You’re not bothering him because you’re you.” Cole turns fully toward me now, voice low but firm. “He needs you. You need him. You both need to stop pretending.”
That hits harder than I expect, like a truth that slips past all my defenses and lodges itself somewhere deep in my chest where it’s already raw and waiting to be acknowledged. I feel it echo, settling into the quiet corners I’ve been trying to ignore.
I am pretending I’m not waiting for Beau to come find me.
Pretending it doesn’t matter that he hasn’t.
Pretending I’m not unraveling a little more with every minute that ticks by and every laugh that doesn’t quite reach my bones.
The fact that Cole says it out loud—so plainly, like it’s the simplest truth in the world—makes it impossible for me to keep pretending.
I blink fast, like I can force the tears to behave, to stay tucked neatly behind my lashes. I chew the inside of my cheek to keep it together, to hold the emotion in place long enough to survive the moment.
“Everything okay?” Michele’s voice cuts through the noise.
I look up and realize that everyone around me has gone quiet.
Ramona watches me over the rim of her cup.
Darius is still mid-sip, but even he’s paused.
Kyle’s frown is unusually serious, brows pinched like he knows he missed something important while he was busy being everyone’s favorite golden retriever.
“I’m fine,” I lie again, because it’s easier. “Just spaced out.”
Michele gives me a knowing look. “Go.”
“What?”
“Go see him,” she says, softer now. “You’ve been watching that tunnel like it’s going to open up and swallow you.”
“I don’t want to interrupt anything.” I try for the lie, but even I don’t sound convincing.
“Interrupt away. He’s probably sitting there overthinking everything like a weirdo.” Kyle shrugs.
“And if he is busy, just flash your jersey and act like you’re team staff. That’s what I do.” Ramona gives me a playful wink.
Cole stands, brushing imaginary lint off his chest like he’s making a formal announcement. “Ladies and gentlemen, the bench is losing its best distraction.”
“Oh, shut up,” I say, rolling my eyes, but warmth pools in my chest.
Michele gives me a smile that means you’ve got this. Ramona toasts me silently with her Sprite. Darius just nods like this is a tactical move in a much larger game.
“Tell my emotionally constipated brother he better play his ass off.” Kyle grins wide, all teeth and sincerity. “Or I’m stealing his Spotify login and deleting every sad playlist he’s ever made.”
I laugh, and this time, it sticks. I don’t say anything else, just back up from the group, the echo of it still buzzing behind me, and start toward the tunnel.