✧･Chapter 10 Nothing Happened
The sun sits high and warm, pressing into the back of my neck as I shift in my seat, my eyes fixed on the field.
Lucia is locked in.
She stands just off third base, glove up, knees bent, her entire body angled forward with a kind of intensity that doesn't belong in a kid her age. The ball hasn't even been hit yet, and she's already anticipating it, already moving a step before she needs to.
"She's going to wear herself out before the second inning," Chris says beside me, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"She won't," I reply automatically, not taking my eyes off her. "She's been like this all week. Practicing like crazy, like it's the playoffs."
As if to prove my point, the bat cracks, and Lucia reacts instantly with no hesitation, no distraction. She moves fast, scooping the ball cleanly and throwing it as hard as she could. I laughed softly to myself, considering that this was just tee-ball.
The parents around us clap, a few cheers breaking out. I feel a small, instinctive pull of pride in my chest, the kind that comes without thinking.
"She's good," Chris adds.
I nod slightly. "Yeah. She is."
To my left, there's movement, and I glance over just as Helena leans forward in her chair, her attention fully on the field. She signs something quickly, her hands moving with practiced ease, her expression animated as an already tired Faye sat on her lap, her hand curled up in her mother's shirt.
June, sitting beside her, follows the game just as closely, her eyes bright. She looks back at Helena, signing something in return, a small smile tugging at her lips.
Helena lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head before signing again, slower this time, like she's emphasizing something.
Chris nudges me lightly. "What'd she say?"
I glance back at the field, catching Lucia resetting her stance. "Probably that Lucia's about to carry the whole team," I say, a faint hint of a smile pulling at my mouth.
"That sounds about right," he mutters.
The game moves on, steady and simple. Kids shouting, parents calling out encouragement, the coach trying to keep everyone vaguely organized. It's loud, but in a comfortable way. It should feel easy to sit here, like normally.
Chris says something else, something about grabbing lunch after, and I nod without fully processing the words, my attention drifting somewhere just beyond the field.
I force it back, focusing on Lucia again as she tracks another play, her entire body engaged, present in a way I'm... not.
There's a restless feeling sitting just under my ribs, something I can't quite settle, no matter how much I try to ignore it. It's been there since this morning, maybe before that. I shift in my seat, crossing my arms loosely, my fingers pressing lightly into my sides.
"Mae." Chris bumps his shoulder gently against mine. "You're doing it again."
"Doing what?" I ask, glancing at him.
"Checking out," he says, not accusing, just observant. "You've been quiet."
"I'm watching the game," I reply, a little too quickly.
He studies me for a second, then lets it go with a small nod. "Right."
I look back at the field, trying to settle into it, into the rhythm of something simple and for a moment, it almost works, but something shifts.
It's subtle at first - just a flicker of movement near the edge of the field, a change in the background noise, like attention pulling in a different direction. I don't mean to look. But I do.
And then I see her.
Claire steps onto the edge of the field like she belongs there, like she always has. The sunlight catches in her hair first, then the rest of her follows into focus in a way that feels almost unfair.
She's wearing cutoff denim shorts that sit just high enough on her thighs to make my stomach drop, paired with a worn-in baseball tee, the sleeves hugging her arms just enough to make it noticeable without trying. It's effortless.
Devastating.
My chest tightens and heat creeps up my neck before I can stop it, my body reacting faster than my brain can catch up. I drag my eyes away, but it doesn't stick and I look back almost immediately, like something in me refuses to let go.
God, her legs. I shouldn't be noticing that. I shouldn't be noticing anything, and yet my gaze drops again, tracing the length of them before I can stop myself, my breath catching slightly in my throat.
"Mae." Chris's voice cuts in, and I blink, snapping my head forward like I've been caught doing something I shouldn't.
"Yeah?" I say quickly.
He frowns slightly. "You okay?"
"Fine," I answer, already nodding, already forcing my attention back to the field. My heart is beating too fast, too loud.
It doesn't slow, because I can feel it. Even without looking, I can feel her getting closer, the subtle shift in the air as she approaches, like my body recognizes her before I let myself turn.
There's a murmur of voices, a few greetings, familiar and easy... and then-
"Did I miss anything?"
Her voice, it lands low and familiar, threading straight through me. My stomach flips, sharp and immediate, like no time has passed at all. I swallow hard, my fingers curling slightly against my arm.
Don't turn around.
I turn anyway and she's right there now.
Closer than before. Close enough that I can see the faint sheen of heat on her skin, the way her shirt shifts when she moves, the way her mouth curves just slightly like she knows exactly what she's doing just by showing up.
Her eyes flick to me for half a second, then she looks away. Like it didn't just hit her too.
"Hey," she says casually, stepping in beside us like she's always been part of this.
Chris nods at her. "You made it."
"Barely," Claire replies, a small smirk pulling at her mouth. "Traffic was a nightmare."
It's easy, normal even. Like the other night didn't sit heavy under the surface of everything. Like I'm not sitting here trying to remember how to breathe. And then, she turns to me. It's subtle, the shift of her body, but it feels like everything narrows down to that single point.
"Mae." Just my name. No smile this time, or maybe there is one, but it's smaller. Quieter, like something is being held back.
"Hi," I manage, but it comes out thinner than I want it to.
She steps closer, too close. And before I can prepare for it - before I can stop it-
Her hand lands lightly on my shoulder. It's nothing.
But it's everything.
The contact is soft, casual, something anyone else would miss - but my entire body reacts like it's been struck. Heat spreads instantly from the point of contact, sharp and consuming, racing down my spine and curling low in my stomach in a way that makes my breath hitch.
I go completely still and every nerve in my body lights up at once. It's been years, and somehow, my body still remembers her like it never forgot.
I can feel the warmth of her palm through the thin fabric of my shirt, the weight of it, the way it settles there like it belongs. My thoughts scatter instantly, slipping out of reach as something deeper takes over, something instinctive and dangerous.
I forget where I am. I forget who's sitting next to me. I forget everything except her My fingers press tighter into my arm, like I can ground myself, like I can keep this contained.
"Hey," she says softly.
Just that, and it wrecks me more than anything else.
I nod, because I don't trust my voice, keeping my eyes forward even though I can feel her right there, feel the heat of her, the presence of her, like it's wrapping around me.
Her hand lingers, just slightly longer than it should. Or maybe it only feels that way because I don't want it to go, and then it's gone. And the absence is immediate.
I inhale slowly, like I've been underwater, staring straight ahead at the field even though I'm not seeing any of it anymore. Because all I can think about is how easily she still ruins me.
I make it about three more minutes.
Three minutes of pretending I'm watching the game, of nodding at something Chris says that I don't hear, of trying to ignore the way my skin still feels like it's burning where she touched me. It doesn't work.
"Mae, you see that-"
"I'm gonna- bathroom," I cut in quickly, already standing before I've even finished the sentence.
Chris looks up at me, a little confused. "Oh- okay. Are you okay?"
I nod once, too fast, already turning away, already walking before anything else can be said. My pulse is too loud in my ears, my chest too tight, like the air isn't sitting right in my lungs.
I don't look back as I rush to the bathroom.
The bathroom is empty when I push inside, the fluorescent lights are too bright and too harsh. I move straight for the stall, locking the door behind me like that's going to do anything, like it's going to keep everything else out.
It doesn't. I brace my hands against the door, head dropping forward, eyes squeezing shut. My breath comes out uneven, and I press my lips together, forcing everything back down where it belongs. I've done this before. For years. I know how to do this.
Ignore it. Bury it.It takes a minute, maybe two. By the time I step out of the stall, I've almost convinced myself I'm fine.
Almost.
The door creaks open as I step out and then I see her. Claire is leaning back against the wall across from the sinks, one ankle crossed over the other, arms loose at her sides like she's been there long enough to get comfortable. Like she wasn't just passing through, like she was waiting.
My steps stop and for a second, I just stare at her, my brain catching up even though it doesn't want to. Of course she followed me.
Claire doesn't move, she just watches me, and then, finally-
"Your boyfriend's worried about you." The words land soft, but they hit hard.
Something in my chest tightens immediately, sharp and uncomfortable, because of course that's what she leads with. I swallow, forcing my expression to stay neutral as I move toward the sink, turning the faucet on just to have something to do with my hands.
"He's fine," I say, turning off the water, finally facing her. Claire's already closer than she was a second ago. Not crowding me. Just... there, within reach.
For a moment, neither of us says anything, and it's worse than before. Because now I'm looking at her, really looking.
Up close, it's different, it always is. The small details come back too easily - the curve of her mouth, the way her hair falls just slightly out of place like she's run her hands through it one too many times, the faint flush in her skin from the heat outside.
My eyes drop before I can stop them, to her shirt, to the way it fits. The way it moves when she breathes.
God.
I drag my gaze back up quickly, heat rising fast in my chest, hoping she didn't notice.
She did. I can tell by the way her expression shifts, just slightly. Not smug, not teasing. Something softer, something that makes it worse.
"You okay?" she asks, and her voice is quieter now and the question catches me off guard.
I frown slightly. "I'm fine."
She tilts her head just a fraction, studying me like she doesn't believe that for a second. "You don't look fine."
"I said I am." It comes out sharper than I mean it to.
Something flickers across her face at that, but she doesn't push, not the way I expect her to.
Instead, her gaze drops for a second, brief, but noticeable, like she's grounding herself, like she's choosing her next words instead of reacting.
That alone throws me because Claire doesn't hesitate, she doesn't hold back.
But right now... she is.
"You left pretty fast," she says after a moment.
I let out a quiet breath, crossing my arms loosely, more for something to do than anything else. "It was hot."
She huffs a small, almost disbelieving sound. "Yeah."
There's no bite in it. Just... something tired. Something that almost sounds like she's calling me out without wanting to. I look away, my jaw tightening slightly. "What do you want me to say, Claire?"
Her name sits differently this time, like it was heavier and she doesn't answer right away. When I look back at her, she's already watching me, and there's something in her expression now that makes my chest ache before I can stop it.
"I don't know," she admits quietly.
"I just-" She exhales, running a hand briefly through her hair before letting it fall back to her side. "You act like I don't exist, and then you look at me like that, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do with it."
My breath catches. "I didn't-"
"You did," she says, but it's not harsh. It's not accusing. It's just... honest. And that's worse, because I can't argue with it. The silence stretches again, thick, the kind that presses in from all sides.
I swallow, my voice quieter when I speak this time. "You have a habit of making things harder than they need to be."
Her brows pull together slightly. "How?"
I hesitate, because I shouldn't say it. Because I don't want to open that door. Because once I do, I don't know if I can close it again. But it slips out anyway.
"You don't act like nothing happened." The words hang there between us and Claire goes still.
"Because something did happen," she says softly.
My chest tightens and I look away again, shaking my head slightly. "It was a long time ago."
"Yeah," she agrees.
And there's something about the way she says it that makes me look back at her, because it doesn't sound like agreement. It sounds like resignation.
"Doesn't feel like it," she adds, almost under her breath and the air shifts.
Everything in me goes too aware again - the space between us, the way she's standing, the way I could close that distance if I just...
I don't move, I can't. Because I know exactly what happens if I do. Instead, I take a small step back, putting just enough space between us to breathe again, even though it feels wrong immediately.
"I should go back," I say, my voice quieter now.
Her eyes stay on me and she nods once. But she doesn't move, neither do I. And for a second, it feels like we're both waiting for one of us to break first, but neither of us does.
So I turn first, and I hate how much it feels like leaving something unfinished behind me as I reach for the door. I reach for the handle, fingers curling around the cool metal, already halfway out of the moment, already telling myself this is the right thing to do.
"Mae."
My name stops me before I can pull the door open, it's quiet, unlike her. Claire never spoke like this and it keeps throwing me off. I close my eyes for a brief second, my grip tightening slightly before I let out a slow breath and turn back around.
Claire hasn't moved.
She's still standing there, exactly where I left her, but something about her feels different now. Less guarded, or maybe just more exposed. Her eyes meet mine, and for a second, neither of us speaks again.
"Are we ever going to talk about it?" The question lands softly, too soft for what it is. My stomach drops anyway, but I don't answer. I can't. Because I know exactly what she means, and I know exactly what answering that question would open, and I...
I don't get to have that, not after everything.
The silence stretches and Claire doesn't push this time. She just watches me, waiting in a way that feels worse than anything else she's done. I swallow, my gaze dropping for a second before I force it back up, forcing something steadier into my expression.
"Talk about what?" I say finally, my voice quieter than I want it to be.
There's a beat. Then, because I have to - because I've built this for too long to let it crack now, I continue. "Nothing happened."
The words feel wrong the second they leave my mouth, too rehearsed. I turn my head slightly, like I don't want to see her reaction.
But I do anyway, and I wish I hadn't. Because it's there, clear as day. It's not loud, not dramatic. It's worse.
Something in her face just... falls. Like I reached out and took something from her and didn't even realize I was holding it.
Her jaw tightens just slightly, her eyes flickering away for a split second before coming back to me, but it's not the same now. There's something dimmed there, something pulled back. Like she's closing a door.
"Right," she says quietly. And it doesn't sound like she believes it.
It sounds like she's letting me have it anyway, which somehow hurts more. My chest tightens, something twisting uncomfortably under my ribs, but I don't take it back. I don't fix it. I don't say anything else.
I just stand there, stuck between wanting to leave and not wanting to leave like this. Claire exhales slowly, looking past me for a second before her gaze settles somewhere over my shoulder.
"Your boyfriend's waiting for you," she adds, softer now, but distant in a way she wasn't before.
I nod, even though she's not really looking at me anymore. "Yeah."
Neither of us moves for a second.
And then I turn, finally pulling the door open this time, stepping out before I can think about it too much, before I can second guess it, before I can see that look on her face again.
The door swings shut behind me with a quiet click.
And even as I walk away, back toward the noise and the people and the life I'm supposed to want... It feels like I just left something important sitting on the other side of it.