Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Tristan
The dining hall is loud.
Too loud.
Not just noise—buzz.
The kind that moves faster than facts and sticks harder than truth.
“…coach pulled her—”
“—not just benched—”
“—three days off campus—”
“—burnout—”
I stop mid-step, tray in hand.
“What?”
No one answers me straight.
They never do.
They just glance at me like I’m supposed to already know, then go back to eating like they didn’t just drop Stella’s name into the middle of my chest like a weight.
Three days off campus.
For Stella.
That doesn’t make sense.
She’s the most locked-in person here.
The most disciplined.
Unless—
My jaw tightens.
Yeah.
Unless she pushed too far.
Unless she burned so hot she finally cracked.
I can see it.
The way she looked this morning.
Cold. Controlled. Empty.
Like she stripped everything out of herself except performance.
I grab food without thinking and scan the room.
Find her—
No.
Not her.
Isa.
By the window.
Boot propped on a chair, crutches resting against the table, hair down, gloss catching the light. She looks like she belongs in a completely different scene than this one, like she walked out of a beach ad and into a rehab appointment.
She sees me and smiles.
Easy.
Warm.
There.
I walk over, set the tray down in front of her, then take her plate without asking and start cutting her food into smaller pieces so she doesn’t have to fight with it.
She watches me the whole time.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, I did.”
It comes out automatic.
Because that’s what I do.
Fix.
Help.
Take care.
I sit across from her and I can feel it immediately—the attention shifts.
Heads turn.
Whispers drop lower but not enough.
Phones tilt.
“T&T,” someone mutters.
I ignore it.
So does she.
“You hear about Stella?” Isa asks casually.
Too casually.
I catch it.
The way she watches my reaction.
“Yeah.”
Short.
Controlled.
“She okay?”
“I don’t know.”
And that’s the part that hits.
Because I should.
I take a bite.
Don’t taste it.
“She’ll be fine,” Isa says.
“Yeah.”
But I don’t sound convinced.
Because Stella fine isn’t Stella okay.
“You’re thinking about her,” Isa says.
Not accusing.
Just… calling it.
I lean back, run a hand through my hair.
“Coach doesn’t pull people for nothing.”
“Burnout happens.”
Not like that.
Not to her.
I glance at her boot.
“You good?”
She shrugs. “I’ll live.”
A small smile.
“I’ve had worse.”
Around us, the noise builds again.
Eyes.
Whispers.
Stories being written in real time.
“You gonna correct them?” she asks, nodding toward the room.
“No.”
She tilts her head. “Why not?”
Because I don’t know what we are.
Because I haven’t defined it.
Because I haven’t stopped it.
Because part of me—
doesn’t want to.
I shrug. “Let them talk.”
She studies me for a second.
Then nods.
“Okay.”
No pressure.
No demand.
And that’s what makes it easy.
Too easy.
I finish eating, stand, grab her tray, come back, set it down.
“Come on,” I say, reaching for her crutches.
She raises a brow. “Bossy.”
“Yeah.”
She laughs and pushes herself up carefully—
And then it happens.
Her hand comes up, fingers sliding along my jaw.
I don’t even have time to react before she leans in—
And kisses me.
Full on.
Not shy.
Not quick.
Her hand stays on my face, holding me there like she’s making a statement.
Like she’s planting a flag.
Like she’s telling the entire room—
this one is mine.
My face heats instantly.
I feel it.
Every eye.
Every whisper snapping into focus.
I don’t pull away.
Because I don’t want to embarrass her.
Because I do like her.
Because I’ve been acting like we’re together—
even if we’ve never said it.
She pulls back slowly. “Stop thinking about her. I’m right here. And we’re good together. I want to be with you, Tris. You know that.”
Smiles like nothing just shifted.
Like she didn’t just define something I haven’t figured out how to name yet.
I clear my throat, grab her crutch. Don’t answer because I can’t. Not yet. I’m still holding out hope for something that keeps slipping out of reach.
“Ready?”
She nods.
Like it’s normal.
Like we’re normal.
We walk out together, slow and careful, the room watching us go.
Outside, the sun hits hard.
“You good?” she asks softly.
“Yeah.”
Lie.
She doesn’t push.
Just squeezes my arm.
“I’ve got rehab.”
“I’ll walk you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
I still do it.
Because I always do.
Because I need to.
Because it feels right—
even when it’s not simple.
We reach the athletic building.
She pauses, looks up at me.
“Text me later?”
“Yeah.”
She smiles, then heads inside.
I watch her go.
And the second she disappears—
my chest tightens.
Because the noise comes back.
Stella.
Always Stella.
I pull out my phone.
It’s me. You okay?
Send.
Nothing.
I start walking.
Where are you?
Send.
Nothing.
My jaw tightens.
Stell.
Still nothing.
I exhale.
Don’t make me call my dad’s PI. I will find you.
A beat.
Two.
Three.
Then—
Stella: I’m fine, Romeo. Go back to your Texas girl.
Relief hits first.
Then something sharper.
She’s not my Texas girl.
Immediate reply.
Really? Come on, Vale. I’m smarter than that.
A small smile pulls at my mouth.
You always were.
Pause.
Then—
So what is she?
I stare at the screen.
Because I don’t have a clean answer.
Someone who needed me.
Dots appear.
Disappear.
Come back.
Funny. That’s kind of your thing, isn’t it?
That lands.
What’s that supposed to mean?
You like girls who need you.
She’s not wrong—
Jade.
Others.
Now Isa.
My jaw tightens.
Stella never needed me.
That one hits hardest.
Yeah.
She didn’t.
That’s what made her different.
That’s not a bad thing.
Damn.
She sees too much.
Always has.
I stare out across the quad, sunlight cutting through trees.
Then I type—
Stell… it could have been us.
Pause.
Longer this time.
Then—
What?
Me and you. It still could be.
Silence.
Then—
And be the villain on campus? Break up T&T? No thanks.
I push off the tree.
Start walking again.
There is no T&T.
Tell that to literally everyone.
I’m telling you.
Pause.
Doesn’t matter. I told you what I needed.
Yeah.
She did.
Space.
Focus.
Her.
You don’t get to act like there’s nothing here.
Long pause.
Then—
There is something. That’s the problem.
That one sinks deep.
Then don’t run from it.
I didn’t run. But you did—right to someone else.
I might actually lose her.
I glance back toward the building Isa just walked into.
Safe.
Easy.
Makes sense.
Stella wouldn’t be safe.
She wouldn’t be easy.
But it would be everything.
And the worst part?
I don’t know which one I’m supposed to want more.