41 RYAN
RYAN
I just can’t keep my eyes off of you
We spend the last hour of training getting thrown onto the floor. Again and again. Full gear—heavy vest digging into my shoulders, gloves already damp, boots gripping and slipping against the mats as we run through takedown drills. Controlled force. Balance. Positioning.
“Again!” the instructor barks, pacing back and forth like he’s got all the energy in the world and we’ve got none left.
I grab my partner, shift my weight, hook, twist—he hits the mat with a hard thud. A second later I’m down too, the air knocked out of me as we reset.
“Too slow,” the instructor snaps. “You hesitate out there, you’re the one on the ground. Move.”
I’m drenched in sweat, chest rising and falling. I straighten up, dragging a hand over my face as I glance toward the front of the room. The instructor stands there like he hasn’t done anything at all—arms crossed, watching us with that sharp, assessing look.
I can’t wait for the day I get to stand there instead.
Not like this, though. I’ve been off all week. And I know exactly what’s messing with my head.
Every lunch, Maddy and I end up on opposite sides of the bench. Her on one side. Me on the other. Not planned. But it sure as hell feels like it.
The only upside? No one’s tried to set me up on some rebound date to “help me move on.” So small victories I guess.
Training finally ends, and I’m exhausted as hell. Noah and Kiara stayed behind for extra training, so it’s just me.
I drag a hand over my face as I head down the west hallway toward the exit. Hands buried deep in my jacket pocket. Headphones on. Music loud enough to drown everything else out.
Friends by Chase Atlantic hums through my ears. And it pulls me straight back to our first kiss.
“Fuck no,” I mutter under my breath. We are not doing that stupid relatable music shit.
I pull my phone out to change the goddamn playlist, glance down for half a second—and round the corner too fast.
Thud.
“Oh—sorry—”
I look up. It’s her.
My hand catches her arm automatically before she can stumble, her fingers tighten around my bicep in return.
Her eyes lift and widen the moment she realizes it’s me. “Oh—” she breathes, a little caught off guard. “Uh… hey.”
“Hey,” I say, my voice quieter than I intended, my hand lingering for a second too long before I let go.
Her hair is pulled into a loose braid over her shoulder, a few strands slipping free around her face.
She’s holding her notebook against her chest, fingers curled around the edges.
And her eyes—those big green eyes—are looking straight at me.
Can she chill for one fucking day and not look like that?
We both take a step back at the exact same time, like magnets forced apart. The hallway moves around us, people passing by, lockers slamming, voices echoing, but it all feels distant.
Her expression softens just a little. “How’ve you been?”
Well, terrible, actually.
“Fine,” I say, my voice a little shaky. “You?”
She nods too quickly. “Yeah. Fine.”
We both nod again. Like idiots.
“So… uh,” she says, glancing down the hallway before looking back at me, “what are you up to?”
“Going home,” I answer with a small laugh, pointing towards the entrance door.
“Right. Yeah. Of course.” She shifts her weight slightly, adjusting her grip on her notebook. “I’m just heading to Noah and Kiara.”
“Right.”
There’s another pause.
“Okay, well—” she gestures vaguely over my shoulder, already slowly putting space between us, “guess I’ll see you tonight. At the bonfire.”
“Oh—yeah.” I clear my throat. “See you tonight.”
She nods once. Then she walks past me, disappearing into the flow of people.
And I just stand there for a second, thinking about the fact that I have to see her again tonight—which I definitely shouldn’t be looking forward to, considering it’s torture not being able to laugh with her or touch her or kiss her or talk to her.
But at the same time, I kind of want nothing more than to just be near her.