Chapter One #2
Coach Adler cleared his throat.
“Interviews begin tomorrow. Vance, you’re first.”
Carter’s gaze flicked to him.
Then back to me.
“Lucky me.”
“No,” Coach Adler said. “Necessary you.”
That landed harder.
On Carter.
On me.
On everyone pretending not to notice.
Carter saluted with two fingers.
“Can’t wait to become educational content.”
“You already are,” I said.
Rhett coughed.
Mason looked delighted.
Jace looked like he was storing every word for Sloane.
Carter’s smile turned sharper.
“Careful, Maren. People might think you missed me.”
The hallway went very quiet.
There were a dozen ways to answer.
A kind way.
A professional way.
A way that protected him.
I was done protecting Carter Vance from the cost of his own mouth.
“No,” I said. “People might think you still hide behind jokes when you’re scared.”
The smile dropped.
Not all the way.
But enough.
Enough for the hallway to see the crack.
Enough for Coach Adler to stop looking at his clipboard.
Enough for Carter to remember that I was not one of his teammates, not one of his fans, not one of the girls who laughed because he made it easy.
I knew him before easy became armor.
I knew the last rule.
Never let them see it hurts.
Carter’s jaw flexed.
Then he smiled again.
Too bright.
Too late.
“Going to be a fun project,” he said.
“No,” I said. “It is going to be honest.”
I walked past him before my hands started shaking.
Professional exit.
Excellent pacing.
Good footwear.
I made it all the way to the stairwell before I had to stop.
Breathe.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The door opened behind me.
I knew without turning.
Of course I knew.
Carter.
“Mar.”
No one else called me that.
Not anymore.
I faced him.
He stood two steps above me in the stairwell, one hand braced on the railing, smile gone now.
Finally.
“You came back,” he said.
“I work here.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is the only one you need.”
He came down one step.
I held my ground.
A decade ago, in another life, Carter had been the boy who carried my skate bag because he said my spine had enough responsibilities.
Three years ago, he had been the boy who let everyone laugh while I left the room.
Today, he was the man standing in front of me like he had a right to old names.
He did not.
“Why are you doing my interview first?” he asked.
“Adler’s list.”
“Did you ask for it?”
“No.”
“Would you have?”
“No.”
That hit.
Good.
It should.
Carter looked away.
For once, there was no joke waiting.
No grin.
No easy escape.
“You look good,” he said.
Terrible.
Soft.
Almost real.
I hated that it worked on any part of me.
“Do not do that.”
His eyes came back.
“What?”
“Act like this is a reunion.”
The word cut.
Both of us.
“It is not?” he asked.
I laughed once.
Not happily.
“You know why I left.”
His face changed.
Yes.
There.
The guilt.
Not enough.
Never enough.
“I know,” he said.
“Good.”
“I was eighteen.”
“So was I.”
He flinched.
Tiny.
Real.
“I know,” he said again.
“No, Carter. You remember. That is different.”
For one second, I thought he might answer honestly.
The stairwell held its breath.
Then his mouth curved.
Small.
Wrong.
“Still brutal with vocabulary.”
There it was.
The joke.
The shield.
The last rule snapping back into place.
Something inside me went cold.
Not surprised.
Just done.
I stepped up one stair, bringing us closer.
Close enough to see the faint scar near his eyebrow from a game I once watched with my hands clenched together the entire third period.
Close enough to remember what it felt like to trust him.
Close enough to make sure he heard me.
“I am not here to save your image,” I said. “I am not here to punish you. I am not here to fall back into whatever version of us made you comfortable.”
His throat moved.
I continued.
“I am here to do my job. You are here to answer questions. And if you joke your way through every hard thing, Carter, that is your choice.”
My voice softened.
That made it worse.
“But this time, I am not laughing to make it easier for you.”
I left him in the stairwell.
This time, he did not follow.
Good.
That was good.
It was.
By the time I reached the media office, my hands had stopped shaking.
Mostly.
My new desk had a Lakeview folder, a release packet, a camera checkout form, and a printed senior-night schedule.
At the top of the schedule, highlighted in yellow, was the capstone event.
Lakeview State Wolves Senior Night — Alumni and Families Invited
Hazel and Grady were listed as confirmed.
Tessa and Rhett.
Sloane and Jace.
Eden and Mason.
All the couples.
All the rules.
All the happy endings.
And Carter.
The last one.
The one still smiling in every photo like nobody had ever noticed he was bleeding.
I sat down.
Opened a blank document.
Typed his name.
Carter Vance — Senior Feature
Then, beneath it, I typed the first question.
What does the joke protect?
I stared at it for a long time.
Then saved the file.
Tomorrow, I would ask him.
Tomorrow, he would probably laugh.
And this time, I would wait him out.