12. Ella
Twelve
Ella
The door to our apartment slipped from my grasp and banged against the wall.
All three of us tried — and failed — to suppress our giggles. I bowed with a flourish, gesturing to usher Dom and Sierra into the apartment.
“Good sir, m’lady.” My British accent needed some serious work.
I watched as Dom picked Sierra up, trying to contain all her flailing limbs, as he carried her across the threshold like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Ugh. Gross,” I muttered under my breath.
“Don’t be salty, sis,” Dom crowed, nearly colliding with the couch but saving them from face-planting with a twirl that would’ve impressed even the cheerleaders.
It was infuriating how smooth he was, while I was running around like a bumbling klutz.
My chest suddenly felt tight watching them, like a rubber band was snapping taut around my ribcage. For the first time, I felt like a guest in my own apartment.
I trailed behind them, holding Sierra’s bag, and felt oddly like a sidekick in someone else’s rom-com. My own fucking brother’s sidekick, nonetheless.
The plot line straight out of hell .
They disappeared into Sierra’s room with a “Good night” over their shoulders, and I felt like the last person left on stage after the curtain had already fallen and all the people had gone home.
Shuffling into my room, the door closing with a soft click, the silence was suffocating me.
I hated silence. It felt all wrong, like something inside my brain was scratching on the inside of my skull, desperately trying to claw its way out.
Pulling out my phone, it took me less than a minute to get one of my audiobooks playing. I closed my eyes, breathing in deeply through my nose. That was better.
Peeling my clothes off my body before carelessly kicking them into a random corner of the room, I flopped onto my bed.
My head was spinning, but I wasn’t sure if it was because of the alcohol or the insane overthinking I’d exhibited.
The walls were thin here. Too thin.
Even with the dulcet sounds of the narrator describing someone getting railed six ways from Sunday, I heard a muffled laugh, followed by a groan.
Then the kind of whisper you most certainly weren’t supposed to hear through drywall.
Still only wearing my underwear but too exhausted to get up to actually pull on my sleep shirt or wash off my makeup, I rolled over and shoved a pillow over my face.
Not to drown out the noise, but for the ache that’d been growing all night.
Everything was changing.
The dread crept in, quiet and cold.
My only close friend here was leaving, and I was going to lose my home. My normal.
I’d need to find a new roommate. Or a new place. Neither had ever really worked out well for me, and at this point, I wasn’t sure which would be worse.
The unmistakable sound of the headboard banging against the wall reverberated around the room. That was my cue. I did not need to hear that shit.
I was genuinely happy for Sierra. But the truth was, while my friend just got everything she ever wanted, I just got a countdown.
Before I knew it, I was on my feet, pulling a random oversized hoodie over my head and socks up over my frozen toes before shoving my feet into sneakers.
I didn’t give a second thought to where I was going; my legs just carried me there.
The air outside slapped me instantly. Winter in Tennessee didn’t bring blizzards or ice storms, but the damp chill clawed through my hoodie like it wanted to make itself at home in my bones.
My breath puffed white in the air, each exhale proof of how stupid I was for being out here half-dressed.
The campus was deserted and quiet. Streetlights cast long shadows of pale yellow across the sidewalks, and the oaks on the edge of campus reached their bare branches toward the sky.
Their branches clicked together when the wind cut through in a dry rattle, which raised the hairs on my arms, even through the sleeves of my hoodie.
I shoved my hands deep into the kangaroo pocket of my hoodie and walked faster, my sneakers crunching against the frosted grass as I veered towards the grove.
His grove.
Hunter’s spot.
I hated my mind for thinking of it that way, but the first time I stumbled across him here, he looked as though he had been carved into the bench.
As if the bench existed because of him, not the other way around.
And okay, maybe the first time hadn’t been the only time. Or the second. Or the third.
We never called them meetings. Never admitted they were anything but “accidents.” But neither of us was dumb enough to believe in coincidence this many times.
Tonight, I beat him to it.
The crooked bench creaked when I sat down and pulled my knees up into my hoodie, like I could fold myself small. Here, the world went quiet in a way it didn’t anywhere else. Not empty-quiet, thick-quiet. The kind with a hum of something unsaid.
I tilted my head back and watched my breath cloud into the branches. For the first time all night, the buzzing in my head dulled.
Footsteps crunched, and my back straightened before I even knew why.
Then he stepped out of the shadows. His hood was up, and his jaw stood out sharply in the lamplight. White clouds puffed out with each slow, controlled breath he took.
Hunter .
When he spotted me, he stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes narrowing.
“What are you doing here?” His voice was husky and low, carrying across the cold air like smoke.
I forced a smirk. “What, am I not allowed to sit on a bench? Didn’t know I needed a membership card to sit here.”
His mouth twitched. It wasn’t a smile — never a smile — but it was close enough to make my stomach flip anyway. He shook his head, muttering something under his breath I didn’t catch.
Then he walked forward and sat down right beside me. Close enough for me to feel his heat bleeding into the cold air between us.
We didn’t talk at first. The silence between us was never uncomfortable, but I was careful not to scare him off with my constant rambling.
Finally he broke the silence. “Long night?”
I snorted. “You could say that.”
Hunter didn’t push, but he never did. He just stared ahead, elbows braced on his knees, while I fiddled with the strings of my hoodie.
“Funny, though.”
He glanced at me. “What?”
“How we keep running into each other here.” I tilted my head, feigning innocence. I was dying to ask him why he’d shown up earlier, but I knew better.
His stare lingered, heavy and knowing. “Yeah. Funny.”
I swallowed and looked away. The bench creaked under us when I shifted, trying to make my voice lighter. “You ever think about what comes after?”
His brow furrowed. “After what?”
“College. Football. All of it.”
He grunted, like the question annoyed him. But he didn’t get up.
“I mean, I’m majoring in marketing,” I said quickly, filling the silence the way I always did. “Which is fine. But it’s just my backup. My real dream is tennis. Going pro and traveling the world. You know, champagne and trophies and center court at Wimbledon.”
Saying it out loud always felt like dangling my biggest want in front of fate, begging it to snatch it away.
I tugged harder at my hoodie strings. “But what if I choke? What if I get there and my brain decides to crash and burn, and that’s it? My whole life ruined because I thought I had what it takes? Because it’s a very real possibility, and sometimes I think—”
“Ella.” His big, calloused fingers were suddenly circling my wrist, squeezing gently.
I snapped my mouth shut.
What the actual fuck?
He twisted his body my way, piercing me with his unwavering gaze. “You won’t choke.”
I scoffed. “You don’t know that.”
“I do.” He leaned in, never taking his eyes off me. “You don’t quit. Doesn’t matter if you’re scared, you keep moving. That’s what makes you win.”
I swallowed hard, my throat tight. It wasn’t the words, but the way he said them. He was certain. Like it wasn’t even up for debate.
My chest tightened, and I felt an overwhelming surge of emotion.
I blurted out, “And you?”
His brow furrowed.
“What about you?” I pressed, quirking a brow at him. “Majoring in Cybersecurity. Hacking. All your little black-hat magic tricks. You’ve bailed Hailey and Sierra out, so don’t even pretend you’re not some kind of evil genius.”
The corner of his mouth twitched again. Inwardly, I was pumping my fist. Just this tiny movement felt like a success.
I wasn’t even sure I could handle a full smile from him, considering he was already drop-dead gorgeous with a scowl.
Add a smile to that, and I might faint on the spot. Or throw up a little. Or both.
Honestly, the weirdest part was … I was enjoying this. I could fantasize about him without fear of rejection, which was kind of a relief. Hunter was out of my league and always would be.
This man was the embodiment of the All-American fantasy.
Meanwhile, I was loud, a mess, prone to overthinking, and probably too needy for someone like him. But fantasizing about him?
In my head, I could imagine him noticing me and even caring about me, but it would never actually happen.
It was safe to dream, get flustered and to imagine him touching me without consequence.
“What’s the plan?” I asked, pushing. “You gonna start your own hacker empire? Rob a bank? Join the FBI?”
He huffed a laugh through his nose. “No.”
“Then what?”
He stared ahead, jaw tight. “Football.”
I blinked. “That’s it?”
“That’s it,” he said flatly. “The draft. Everything else is noise.”
The way he uttered those words made the air feel colder somehow.
“Wow.” I let out a low whistle. “Laser-focused much?”
His shoulders shifted. “I just want to be independent, I guess.”
The way he spoke made me bite my tongue. So many questions were burning inside me, but his wall was up, solid and unmovable, so I stayed silent.
His silvery gaze flicked to me again. Heavy and steady, making my nipples pucker against the thick fabric of my hoodie.
In the cold, with the moonlight cutting through the trees, he felt like the only thing keeping me anchored.
And yeah, my brain was doing the thing again; imagining him leaning closer just enough to notice the freckles on my nose, the stupid little scar on my thumb.
The worst (or best?) part was, I knew I’d never say any of this aloud. Safe in fantasy, because in reality, he’d probably think I was ridiculous.
We sat there, breath fogging white, silence thick as a blanket.
This hadn’t been planned, and I wasn’t sure if it was anything we’d ever label.
But I knew I’d be back here again, and so would he .