Chapter 19 — The Gossip Feed Bites
Sabrina didn’t check the gossip feed.
That was the whole point. You didn’t feed it attention. You didn’t hand it your nervous system.
But the feed didn’t need her attention to do damage.
She was leaving the tunnel after practice with her clipboard tucked to her chest, lanyard bouncing against her jacket. The stadium lights behind them were still flaring, turning the concrete corridor into a strip of white glare and shadow.
Max walked ahead of her by a few steps.
Not beside.
Not close.
Just… in the same frame, because soccer was her job right now and he was the reason she had a job at all.
They hit the outer door and the cool air slapped Sabrina awake.
Max didn’t look back.
He didn’t slow down.
Good, Sabrina thought. Clean. Normal.
Her phone buzzed anyway.
One notification, then another.
Teammate group chat. Then an athletics intern thread. Then a text from her supervisor with no greeting.
Sabrina stopped walking.
She opened the feed.
A photo filled her screen—blurry, grainy, tilted like it had been taken from behind a pillar. Max’s silhouette in front, Sabrina behind him, clipboard visible, lights flaring like a dramatic movie poster.
And the caption, punched into place like a verdict:
“Delgado + therapist intern = secret romance? Tell me I’m wrong.”
Sabrina’s stomach dropped, clean and cold.
Her face stayed blank. Her body did not cooperate.
She didn’t care what strangers thought.
She cared what compliance thought. What her supervisor thought. What Brightline thought. What people with the power to cut her internship thought.
She heard footsteps behind her and looked up.
Max had stopped.
He was staring at her like he could tell something happened by the way she’d gone still.
“What,” he said, already defensive.
Sabrina lifted the phone slightly, showing him without moving closer.
Max’s eyes narrowed as he read.
His expression didn’t flare into anger.
It went quiet.
Cold.
Like someone had poured ice water down his spine and he decided to stop feeling anything at all.
“That’s…” he started, then stopped.
Sabrina’s fingers tightened on her phone. “It’s not true.”
Max’s jaw flexed. “Doesn’t matter.”
Her supervisor’s text popped up under the post like it had been waiting.
Come to my office. Now.
Sabrina swallowed. “I have to—”
“I know,” Max cut in.
His voice was flat, but his eyes weren’t.
They were furious at the wrong target: himself.
“You’re going to lose your spot because of me,” he said.
Sabrina hated how close that sounded to a confession.
She forced her voice steady. “You are not the only person in that photo.”
Max gave a humorless laugh. “Yeah. But I’m the headline.”
Sabrina’s throat tightened.
Max looked away, toward the parking lot, toward the dark field, toward anywhere that wasn’t her face. “You should stop walking behind me.”
Sabrina didn’t answer right away because the unfairness of it burned.
Then she did, calm and controlled. “We’re not making decisions in the tunnel.”
Max’s eyes flicked back. “Then where.”
Sabrina held his gaze for one beat. “In the light. With rules.”
Max’s mouth tightened like he wanted to argue.
He didn’t.
He nodded once.
Not agreement.
Acceptance.
And that, Sabrina realized, was still a kind of trust.