Chapter 41
FORTY-ONE
MAX
I should be asleep by now. Instead, I’ve been staring at the ceiling for hours, replaying every second of that meeting until it’s all one blur of words I can’t escape.
Technically compliant. Coach’s version of mercy. His way of saying, You’re not off the hook, but I won’t cut the rope either.
I’ve told myself to leave it alone—that I’ll see Eli soon enough, that space is what we both need—but the longer I sit here, the worse it gets.
The guilt. The silence. The way he looked at me in that office—as if he was there, but something inside him wasn’t anymore.
By the time I give up pretending I can sleep, it’s past midnight. The dorms are quiet except for the low hum of the heater and the occasional door creak down the hall.
I don’t even remember making the decision. One minute, I’m sitting on the edge of my bed, and the next, I’m outside his door, heartbeat too loud, knuckles hovering like I might still change my mind.
I don’t.
I knock once. Twice.
It takes a few seconds before the lock clicks.
When the door opens, I forget how to breathe.
Eli’s standing there in the glow of the hallway light—hair a mess, eyes heavy with sleep, flannel pajama pants hanging low on his hips. His chest is bare, warm skin flushed from bed.
“Max?” he murmurs, voice rough, still half-asleep.
That’s all it takes. The sound of my name coming from his lips. The way it feels like everything I’ve been missing.
Before I can stop myself, I step forward, pressing him gently back into the room. My hands find his face, his mouth, and then I’m kissing him—hard, hungry, desperate. With every bit of longing I’ve held in since I left him crying in his room.
He stumbles back a step, but his hands come up anyway, sliding over my chest, gripping my shirt like he’s been waiting for this too. His mouth opens under mine, and for one perfect, unbearable second, it’s like the world rights itself again.
Then he breaks the kiss.
“Max—” I try to catch his lips again, softer this time, but he pushes at my chest, breath uneven. “We can’t,” he says, his voice shaking. “We can’t do this.”
“Eli—”
“No.” He steps back another pace, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t get to just show up and—and kiss me like that. Not after everything.”
I swallow hard, the words lodged in my throat. “I know. I just—that’s not why I’m here. It’s not why I came. I just—”
He shakes his head, eyes glassy. “You left. You didn’t call, you didn’t text, and now you think this fixes it?”
The hurt in his voice hits like a sledgehammer. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“You disappeared.” He stares at me. “You told me you loved me and did the opposite of what someone who loves you would do.”
The silence that follows is brutal. I can hear the hum of the light above us and his soft inhales. The faint smell of his shampoo, familiar and sharp enough to make my chest ache.
I drag a hand through my hair, forcing out the only words that feel true. “I just needed to see you. Needed to make sure you were okay.”
He exhales, the sound small and tired. “I’m not. But this—” He gestures between us. “This isn’t going to fix it.”
I nod, staring at the floor because looking at him feels impossible. Then I swing my gaze around his room, still avoiding looking at him. It’s bare. As bare as mine, with the exception of that photo of us he gave me for Christmas. I have that on my nightstand.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I know.”
For a second, neither of us moves. Then he sighs and rubs at his eyes. “You should go, Max.”
My throat tightens, but I don’t argue.
I back toward the door, one slow step at a time, memorizing the way he looks standing there—sleep-rumpled, heartbroken, still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“I’ll go,” I manage, voice low. “But I’m not done.”
His eyes flick up, searching mine, something unreadable in them. “Goodnight, Max.”
“Night, Eli.”
I leave before I can break again, the door clicking softly shut behind me. And for the first time since I met him, I realize wanting him isn’t enough—I have to earn him back.
The morning comes too fast.
I don’t sleep—not really. I just lie there staring at the cracks in the ceiling, hearing the echo of his voice. You disappeared. You told me you loved me and did the opposite of what someone who loves you would do.
He’s right. Every word of it.
By the time I drag myself out of bed, it’s past nine. My body feels like I played three back-to-back games. Coffee seems like the only thing that can keep me upright, so I pull on a hoodie, shove my hands in my pockets, and walk across the courtyard to the small café by the library.
The place smells like espresso and winter sugar—peppermint, vanilla, cinnamon. It’s too cheerful for how hollow I feel. And it reminds me of Eli. He’s all I can think about while I stand in line, and I almost bail because of it.
The line isn’t long, but it moves slowly. I’m attempting to distract myself by scrolling mindlessly through emails I don’t remember opening, when someone bumps my shoulder.
I look up, and there he is—Luke.
Perfect hair, eyes outlined with charcoal, loud voice, confidence radiating off him like a spotlight. His grin’s all teeth. “Didn’t expect to see you slumming it with the students this early. Didn’t think brooding types drank peppermint.”
“Black coffee,” I say automatically.
He laughs, low and sharp. “Of course. Figures.”
He steps up to the counter beside me, tapping his card on the reader like he owns the place. “One large peppermint latte,” he tells the barista. Then, looking at me, adds with a wink, “For Eli.”
My stomach tightens. “You seeing him this morning?”
Luke smirks, clearly catching the edge in my voice. “Maybe. We’re friends. You know, the kind who actually answers when he calls.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “Right.”
He tilts his head, studying me. “You look terrible, by the way. No offense.”
“None taken.”
“Good, because it’s impressive. You’ve got the whole tragic, sleep-deprived anti-hero vibe going.”
I should walk away. I should not stand here and trade words with him. But part of me wants to know—needs to know—what Eli said after last night.
“Did he tell you?” I ask finally.
Luke’s smile fades, just a little. “That you showed up at his door past midnight and kissed him?”
I flinch. “Yeah. That.”
He leans on the counter, blue eyes taking me in with curiosity. “He didn’t tell me everything. He doesn’t owe me that. But I know he’s hurt, and I know he still cares. Which is worse, really.”
My throat’s dry. “I know I messed up.”
“No argument here.” Luke takes his drink from the barista, pops the lid, and blows across the top. “Look, I’m not the guy you need to convince. But if you’re gonna fight for him, do it right this time. No more disappearing acts. No half measures.”
I nod, because there’s nothing else to say.
Luke takes a slow sip of the drink he just said was for Eli—he was fucking with me obviously—then he lifts the cup slightly in my direction. “You’ve got good taste, Calder. Try not to ruin him again.”
And just like that, he’s gone—heading for the door, peppermint steam curling in his wake.
I stand there a long time after he leaves, the sound of the espresso machine hissing like static in my ears.
When the barista finally calls my order, I barely taste the coffee.
All I can think about is the way Luke said Fight for him. Because, maybe this time, I actually will.