#john john

When we returned to Briar U and life went back to normal, I honestly wished it hadn't.

My head was still just as much of a mess as it had been over the weekend. Will's and my program was finished. The competition started the following week, and my nerves were completely on edge. My costume was ready, every step had been rehearsed to exhaustion, and our sequence was perfectly synchronized: a Side-by-Side Triple Toe Loop, Triple Twist, Lift, Throw Triple Loop, Backward Outside Death Spiral, Combination Spin, and a Step Sequence that stretched across the entire rink. We were ready. At least on the ice. Because off of it, I was a disaster.

Maybe it wasn't even because of the competition. Maybe it was because I was trapped in a car with Alicia Ivens, on our way to an evaluation recommended by one of her acquaintances after weeks of her insisting that I go. The silence between us had already lasted several minutes when she finally spoke.

"When we get back to campus, I have a surprise for you."

"I'm thrilled."

The sarcasm was obvious, and my mother snorted, rolling her eyes. Something both of us did far too often.

"I noticed you spent the beginning of the summer away. Is that why you weren't answering my messages?"

I kept my eyes on the window.

"I went to visit my dad."

The car fell silent. I didn't need to look at her to know she'd been left speechless. A few seconds later, she changed the subject.

"And what about you and that hockey player? Did you break up?"

I let out a humorless laugh.

"We never had anything to break up."

"Good."

I slowly turned toward her.

"Excuse me?"

"I did some research on him."

Of course you did.

"Alicia..."

"And I found out he's probably not even going to pursue hockey as a career."

My entire body tensed instantly.

"What?"

"From what I found, he'll most likely take over his father's garage in the next few years. That practically eliminates any chance of playing professionally."

"You don't know that. Logan is a great player."

"Maybe he is. But talent isn't always enough."

I felt irritation rise in my chest.

"You don't even know him."

"I don't need to."

"Oh, yes, you do."

She sighed as if she were explaining something obvious to a child.

"I'm just saying he doesn't seem like someone who would add much to your future."

I stared at her for several seconds, unable to believe what I was hearing.

"God..." I crossed my arms tightly. "You're unbelievable."

"I'm being realistic."

"No. You're being mean."

For the first time since I'd gotten into that car, Alicia fell silent. And I was grateful for it. The rest of the drive passed in silence. I kept my eyes fixed on the window as Alicia drove.

The closer we got to the rink, the more my stomach twisted. I already spent hours on the ice every day. I already competed. I already performed in front of judges. But this was different. Because it wasn't a competition.

It was an evaluation.

And evaluations had an irritating way of making you feel completely inadequate. The training complex was enormous. Two Olympic-sized rinks, empty stands, and a constant flow of athletes moving in and out of the locker rooms. Three coaches and a technical evaluator sat near the boards, studying clipboards filled with notes. My nerves immediately worsened. A gray-haired woman approached me.

"You can start with some basic elements. We want to observe your movement first."

I nodded then pushed forward and began gliding across the ice. First, the simpler sequences. Then edges. Transitions. Steps. Changes of direction. My speed increased naturally as my body settled into the rhythm it had known since childhood. Then came the jumps. The spins. The choreographic sequences. The pair elements I could demonstrate individually.

When I finished, my chest rose and fell rapidly from lack of breath. The evaluators exchanged glances. They wrote something down. Spoke quietly among themselves. And that was worse than any criticism. Because I couldn't tell what they were thinking. Finally, the woman closed her folder.

"How long have you been skating?"

"Since I was little."

She nodded. "That explains a lot."

I couldn't tell whether that was good or bad.

"What did you think?"

One of the coaches rested his arms on the boards.

"You have very good movement quality."

Another nodded in agreement.

"Your edge control is excellent."

My heart sped up, though I wasn't even sure why I cared so much about their opinion. In the end, this wasn't what I wanted. It was what my mother wanted. Or maybe it had once been my dream too, and I simply no longer knew where her ambitions ended and mine began. The coaches continued reviewing their notes.

"You have a very strong technical foundation," the gray-haired woman said. "It's obvious you've received high-level training from a very young age."

Another evaluator nodded.

"Your body control is excellent. Your jump entries are clean, your edges are consistent, and you have a natural presence on the ice."

Outside the rink, Alicia smiled with satisfaction. I didn't. I kept waiting for the rest. Because there is always a rest. There's always the part that still isn't enough. The third coach closed his clipboard.

"It would be great to have you in our team, but you're skating while holding yourself back."

I frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"You're executing everything correctly. Almost perfectly, actually." He leaned against the boards. "But it feels like you're thinking about every movement before you do it." I looked at him, confused. "You have the technique to compete at a very high level," he continued. "But you're carrying something with you onto the ice."

My stomach dropped. Because it was true and I hated that someone had noticed.

"Skaters often believe improvement only means learning more difficult jumps. That's not always the case." She gestured toward the empty rink. "Sometimes the next level is trusting yourself enough to stop thinking and simply skate."

I swallowed hard. For a moment, I thought about Logan. About the competition. About my father. About the conversation I still couldn't get out of my head. I thought about everything at once.

"The potential is there," another coach said. "Very clearly."

"You have the potential to reach larger training programs."

"Even international ones," the woman added.

My chest tightened. Anyone else probably would have been happy. Proud. Excited. But all I felt was a strange exhaustion. Because they were talking about what I could become.

And I wasn't sure anymore if that was what I wanted to be.

Alicia looked ready to celebrate outside the rink because, in the end, she had been right when she said I was overthinking. I simply stood there on the ice, staring at the marks left by the blades beneath my feet. For the first time in a very long time, the question running through my head wasn't, am I good enough? It was another one. A much worse one. Do I still love this as much as I used to?

As soon as we got into the car to head back to campus, I bit the inside of my cheek and rested my head against the seat. A headache was beginning to form behind my eyes.

"I told you."

Alicia kept her eyes on the road.

"You need to stop skating like you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders."

I let out a dry laugh.

"Maybe I am."

I turned toward her.

Alicia sighed through her nose. The kind of sigh she gave when she thought she was dealing with someone irrational.

"Oh, are you?" Her voice hardened. "Then tell me. What exactly are you carrying?" I closed my eyes. I didn't answer. But she kept going. "You don't work. You don't pay your own bills. You're not supporting anyone." My jaw locked. "And honestly, I'm getting tired of this rebellious attitude."

“I don't know if you know this, but I'm at Briar U because I earned my place there. I was good enough for them to want me during the transfer process, to help rebuild the university's figure skating program. And I carry the pressure of having to stay on the podium because that's part of the agreement. I may not have to pay for all of my college expenses, but half of them are covered because of my talent. And yet you keep acting like you're always doing me a favor. I'm tired of your rudeness.”

I pressed my fingers into my thigh.

She gripped the steering wheel tighter.

"And you should start thinking more carefully about the way you speak to me."

I slowly opened my eyes.

“I paid for you to come here. I paid for your skating outfits. So maybe you should remember your place.”

The words hit exactly where she intended them to. I slowly turned my head.

"No."

My voice came out low.

"My father's money pays for this, because you don't do anything for a long time."

The silence inside the car was immediate. Heavy. Dangerous. Alicia braked a little harder than necessary before turning a corner.

"And that money is mine now."

She practically spat the words. My heart jumped. I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt. For several seconds, neither of us spoke. The car continued down the road. And I stared out the window, trying to ignore the feeling that something inside me had just broken.Then I took a deep breath.

"Do you know the difference between you and him?"

Alicia went still.

"What?"

I swallowed hard.

"My father never made me feel like an investment."

Her grip tightened on the wheel.

“No, I'm going to.”

"Don't do this."

My voice cracked halfway through the sentence, but I forced myself to continue.

“Because every time you talk about money, training, or my career, it feels like I'm a project.”

My eyes burned.

“A spreadsheet. An investment.”

The silence returned.

“But I'm your daughter.”

My voice came out softer this time.

“Do you know that? Do you even remember that?”

I looked at her.

"Do you know I'm still your daughter?"

Alicia didn't answer.

And somehow, that hurt more than any argument ever could.

Because for the first time, I had the horrible feeling that she genuinely didn't know what to say. And that answer should have been easy. She should have known. She should have been able to look at me and say, of course you're my daughter. But instead, there was only silence. And that silence told me more than any cruel words ever could. The headlights illuminated the dark road as the car moved forward in silence.

But I knew that silence.

I knew it far too well.

It was the kind of silence that came seconds before she said something cruel.

"You think your father was perfect." I let out a disbelieving laugh.

Here we go.

"I literally never said that."

"But you act like you do."

I turned toward her.

"No. I just think he loved me without turning everything into an obligation."

Her jaw tightened.

"You make it sound like I'm the villain."

"You do that all by yourself."

"Your father never had to deal with you."

That hit me like a punch. My chest tightened instantly.

"What?"

"He didn't have to go through the last few years." Her voice turned colder. "He didn't have to deal with your breakdowns, your mood swings, your existential crises every week."

I swallowed hard.

"You have no idea how unfair that is."

"No?" She let out a bitter laugh. "Then explain it to me."

My breathing became heavier.

"You really want to do this?"

"I do."

I looked directly at her. Without looking away.

“You want to know why I’m so lost?”

Alicia didn’t answer.

“Because my father died.”

The silence inside the car became brutal.

“Because I spent years trying to be exactly what you wanted. Trying to be loved. Trying to earn your love.”

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head as I stared out the window.

“And then he died.”

My throat tightened.

“The one person who loved me without conditions, without contracts, without expectations... died.”

I swallowed hard.

“And after that, I didn’t know who I was supposed to be anymore.”

My eyes burned, but I refused to look at her.

“Because everything I did was always for someone else. For skating. For sponsors. For you.”

I let out a shaky breath.

“I spent so much time trying to become the daughter you wanted that I never figured out how to be myself.”

I stared straight ahead, my vision blurring.

“Because I don't know anymore if I love skating... or if I've just gotten too good at it to stop.”

The words hung in the air between us.

“I don't know if I'm doing it because it makes me happy, or because it's the only thing I've ever been praised for.”

My throat tightened.

“And that's terrifying.”

I laughed quietly, without any humor.

“To wake up one day and realize your entire life might have been built around earning love instead of finding joy.”

Alicia finally looked at me. Only for a second. But it was enough. For the first time, something in her expression faltered. And that was exactly when it happened. A shadow darted across the road. Fast. Low to the ground. Alicia cursed.

"What the…"

She jerked the steering wheel instinctively. The car veered slightly off the road. I heard the impact. A heavy thud beneath the vehicle. Then another metallic sound. Something dragging.

"Shit!"

The whole car shook. Alicia slammed on the brakes. The seatbelt yanked me forward. The engine made a horrible noise. A crack. And died. The silence that followed felt heavy. Unreal. We both sat frozen for a few seconds.

"What was that?" I asked.

"No idea."

Alicia turned the car completely off and tried starting it again. Nothing. Just a strange noise. My stomach dropped.

"What the hell?"

I stepped out of the car and looked at the bumper. There was blood on it, but no sign of an animal anywhere. The sun was setting, and the car wouldn't start no matter what. My mother was already on the phone with someone inside the car while I covered my face with my hands, wanting to scream.

Fifteen minutes later, we were towed to a nearby repair shop. And honestly? I was surprised to find the one person who had been haunting my dreams lately.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

Logan asked the man who had helped us get off the side of the road. Looking at him now, I could clearly tell he wasn't Logan's father but probably his older brother, Jeff i guess. He pointed toward us without taking his eyes off me.

"We were the closest shop. Extra cash never hurts, bro. I think they hit something and the car gave up."

He said, patting John's chest.

"Great. The nearest repair shop just had to be your boyfriend's."

My mother muttered like a sulking teenager. I turned toward her so fast I almost heard my neck crack.

"Can you go five minutes without being unbearable?"

"I'm just stating facts."

"No, you're being annoying on purpose."

She raised an eyebrow. And I had to count to three to stop myself from starting another argument in the middle of the parking lot. Logan watched the exchange for a second before turning his attention back to the car.

"I can take a look."

He ran a hand along the side of the hood.

"What happened?"

The question was directed at me. And for some reason, that made me even more embarrassed. I immediately looked away from him and stared at the dented bumper.

"Apparently she ran something over."

"Because you were yelling at me," Alicia corrected.

"Can you not do this? It's so childish."

"I'm telling the truth!"

"So you hit something?"

Logan asked and we answered at the same time. He let out a quiet laugh through his nose. That stupid laugh. Small. Subtle. Far too familiar.

"Yes."

"Okay." Logan walked to the front of the vehicle and crouched down. "Then you probably hit something underneath the car."

"Oh, you two are not okay..."

My mother whispered to me and i didn't even look at her. I just crossed my arms and huffed. A few seconds later, Logan whistled.

"Yep."

I walked closer.

"What?"

"The oil pan is completely wrecked."

"Shit."

John pointed at a twisted piece of metal.

"And now you've got an oil leak."

Alicia closed her eyes.

"Of course we do."

"Did you keep driving after the impact?"

"For a few seconds."

The brothers made exactly the same expression. The exact same one. It was almost scary.

"Then that definitely didn't help," Logan concluded.

I would've laughed if I weren't too exhausted. Logan stood up and wiped his hands on his jeans. Only then did his eyes truly meet mine. Without the chaos. Without distractions. Without a crowd around us. My heart did that irritating thing it always insisted on doing whenever he looked at me like that.

"How much is this going to cost me?"

My mom asked me brutally.

"That depends on how much you like this car."

"John Logan."

Alicia answered flatly. He raised his hands.

"I'm serious."

Logan was already looking back at the engine. Focused. Working. As if it were the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was. The shop was bathed in the golden light of late afternoon. The smell of oil, metal, and gasoline filled the air. For a  moment, watching Logan there with his sleeves rolled up to his forearms and a wrench sticking out of his back pocket, I remembered the conversation I'd had with Alicia earlier. He would probably never compete in the Olympics. Maybe he'd never sign a professional contract. Maybe he really would spend the next few years working here. Jeff crossed his arms as he examined the damage one more time.

"We can fix it in a day. Maybe less if we can get the part today. But we're already closing."

Alicia glanced at the vehicle and then at the two brothers. That look. The one I knew. Evaluating. Cold. Calculating. And I already knew I wasn't going to like what came next.

"I imagine this is a perfect opportunity for you."

Her smile was polite, her voice wasn't and that made Jeff frowned.

"What do you mean, ma'am?"

"Well..." She shrugged. "A luxury car just happens to show up here. A desperate customer. I imagine the estimate might go up a little."

Silence fell over the shop. Logan froze. John simply stared at my mother. And I felt my blood boil instantly.

"Jesus."

Alicia didn't even look at me.

"What?"

"Did you hear what you just said?"

"I'm being careful."

"No. You're being offensive."

She let out a short laugh.

"You really think repair shops don't do that?"

Jeff took a step back.

"Ma'am, if you'd rather take the car somewhere else..."

"That's not what she meant." My voice came out sharp. "And you know it."

Alicia finally looked at me.

"I'm just protecting my investment."

"Your investment?"

My chest rose and fell rapidly.

"You just implied they're dishonest."

"I didn't use that word."

"You don't have to. Everything that comes out of your mouth sounds shallow." 

I muttered, crossing my arms. My chest was still rising and falling from anger. I avoided looking directly at Logan. And Jeff too because the embarrassment was starting to mix with the frustration and i looked at the brothers.

"Do whatever needs to be done." I pointed at the car. "Seriously."

Jeff raised an eyebrow. But before he could answer, Alicia let out a dry laugh.

"You know you can't make things easier just because you like someone, right?"

The silence was so sudden it felt physical and my face instantly burned.

"Uhm. I'm done with you." I whispered then I turned my back on her and walked out of the shop without another word. I let out a cynical laugh. "Spend whatever the hell you need to. Use all her money, boys."

I swallowed hard. The familiar burning sensation returned to my throat. Again. Always the same thing. I really needed to stop wanting to cry every time I felt pressured.

Or cornered.

Or emotionally overwhelmed.

It was ridiculous. I blinked several times and kept walking. Fast. As if speed could solve anything. As if I knew exactly where I was going. Which I definitely didn't. The shop disappeared behind me as I followed the side of the road. The sky was growing darker. Streetlights flickered on one by one. And I kept my eyes fixed ahead, pretending I had a plan. Pretending I wasn't simply running away. I heard footsteps behind me. Ignored them.The footsteps sped up. I kept ignoring them. Then a huge shadow appeared beside me.

"You don't even know where you're going."

I rolled my eyes. Of course. Logan. Who else would it be?

"Go away."

"That didn't answer my question."

"Because you didn't ask one."

"Fair."

I kept walking. He kept walking beside me. Naturally. As if he had all the time in the world. Which was incredibly annoying.

"Where are you going?"

"Home."

"Which direction?"

"This one."

I pointed randomly ahead. Logan looked at the road. Then at me.Then at the road again.

"And what scientific method did you use to reach that conclusion?"

"Instinct."

"Your instinct sucks."

"Thank you, Mr.arrogant."

"You're literally walking in the opposite direction."

I stopped for half a second. Just half. Then I kept walking.

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"Stop following me."

"No."

"Logan."

"No."

The answer came so quickly I almost wanted to shove him. The problem was that he probably wouldn't even feel it.

"I'm fine."

"You walked out of a repair shop in the middle of nowhere."

"This isn't the middle of nowhere."

"You don't even know the name of the streat you're in." My silence answered for me. Logan laughed. "Exactly." I crossed my arms.

"You're unbearable."

"Seems hereditary today."

I shot him a deadly glare. He had the audacity to smile.

"Seriously?"

"You know I'm right."

"Go away."

"No."

"Why?"

The question came out more tired than angry. Logan shoved his hands into his pockets. Because apparently chasing emotionally wrecked girls was a casual hobby for him.

"Because you're upset."

"Brilliant observation. But i´m not"

"And you're lying again. I thought we'd already gotten past the whole honesty issue." His eyes followed me as I kept walking. "You're wandering around aimlessly."

"Another excellent observation."

"And because in ten minutes you're going to realize you have absolutely no idea where you are."

I sighed heavily.

"I don't want to talk."

"Great."

"Great."

"Then let me take you home."

I stopped.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"Logan!"

"Get in the truck."

I shook my head.

"I'd rather walk."

"You'd rather be stubborn."

"That too." He laughed. The idiot actually laughed. I was practically running from an emotional breakdown and he was enjoying himself. "That's not funny."

"It's a little funny."

"It's not."

"It is."

I kept walking. Or at least I tried to. Because Logan simply matched my pace without any effort. Which was annoying. Very annoying. Especially because he didn't even seem to be walking fast. His ridiculously long legs were doing half the work.

"Go away."

"No."

"Logan! "

"No."

I let out an exasperated sigh. He watched me for a few seconds. Then something changed in his expression. The teasing smile disappeared. And when it returned, it was different. Softer. More genuine. More dangerous. Because that kind of smile was exactly what ruined every attempt I made to stay angry.

"Please." My heart did something incredibly stupid. The kind of thing I hated. Blinking. Forgetting how to breathe. Existing in the most embarrassing way possible. Logan tilted his head slightly. Brown eyes fixed on mine. An open smile. Full of teeth. Full of that infuriating calm that seemed to say he already knew he'd won.

"Please," he repeated. "Just get in the truck."

I immediately rolled my eyes. Pure survival instinct. Because if I looked at him for too long, I'd give in.

"You're using unfair weapons. Knowing exactly what they do." I stopped walking long enough to look at him. "You know exactly what to say to get under my skin, and you do it anyway." My jaw tightened. "So don't stand there and talk to me about honesty." I shook my head. "I'm not the dishonest one here."

“Please, gorgeous. What weapons?” His voice softened. “I'm not trying to fight with you. I'm just trying to get you home.”

“Your face, you asshole.”

Logan burst out laughing. A real laugh this time.

"That doesn't even make sense."

"Yes, it does."

"So my face is a weapon?"

"Apparently."

"Interesting."

"Not even a little."

He crossed his arms. Still smiling. That damn smile.

"So you're admitting you want to get in the truck."

"No."

"You admitted it."

"I did not."

"You literally just said I'm using my face to convince you."

I pointed a finger at him.

"Don't twist my words."

"You're smiling."

Instantly, I tried to stop. Which only made it worse. Because Logan noticed.

"My God."

He looked absurdly pleased with himself.

"You're smiling."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I literally hate you."

"That's a lie."

I rolled my eyes so hard I almost saw my own brain.

But the truth was that the pressure in my chest had eased.

Just a little.

Enough for me to breathe without feeling like crying.

And I hated that he'd managed to do that.

Hated it. Logan pointed toward the truck parked a few yards behind us.

"Last offer."

I crossed my arms.

"What is it?"

"You get in."

"Hmm."

"I drive."

"Interesting."

"You stay quiet."

"Getting better."

"I don't ask questions."

That made me hesitate. Really hesitate. Because at that moment, questions were the last thing I wanted and Logan noticed immediately.

Of course he did.

I looked at him. At those damn brown eyes. At that damn small smile. At that damn impossible patience. Then I let out a long, defeated sigh.

"You're incredibly annoying."

"I know."

"Unbearable."

"I know that too."

I shook my head. Defeated. Completely defeated.

"Fine."

His smile instantly widened.

"Fine?"

"Don't make me repeat myself."

"Fine."

"Logan."

"Yeah?”

"If you look that happy about winning, I'm getting out of the truck."

His laugh echoed down the road. And despite all my intentions, the corner of my mouth threatened to lift too.

"Just so you know, you can't do that. Act like we're friends."

I said as I opened the passenger door and climbed into the truck. My voice came out quieter than I intended. More tired. More honest. Because the truth was, all of this was confusing me.

A lot.

The door shut with a solid thud and immediately, i was hit by his scent. Something that was simply Logan. I closed my eyes for a second. Just one second. But it was enough for the dizziness to return. Not physical but emotional. Because it had been a week. An entire week avoiding him. An entire week taking different routes through the hallways. Ignoring messages. Ignoring the ridiculous urge to look for him. And now I was sitting in his damn truck. Alone. With him. Logan took a few seconds before getting in.

When he finally closed the driver's door, silence filled the space between us. He started the engine. But he didn't drive away. The low rumble of the truck filled the silence. For a few seconds, neither of us spoke. Then Logan rested one hand on the steering wheel.

"I thought we were friends."

The words came out simple. Without accusation. Without anger. And maybe that was why they hit harder.

I turned toward him.

Logan was already looking at me. Those brown eyes fixed on mine. My stomach did a ridiculous flip. I felt my cheeks heat instantly. Damn it.

"Not anymore. You made your own choices."

I looked away for a second. One of his eyebrows lifted.

"I don't usually drink anything out of people's belly buttons unless they're my friends."

"Really? Considering how many girls you've slept with, I figured you'd done that a million times."

I said, looking away uncomfortably as he started driving.

"No. You were my first."

"Surprising."

I tried to sound indifferent. Failed miserably.

Logan let out a low laugh, the kind he kept buried deep in his throat.

"You sound disappointed."

I immediately turned toward him.

"I sound what?"

"Disappointed."

"You're delusional."

"Maybe. But maybe you're right. I'm still blocked. Friends don't get blocked."

"They do when they're being assholes."

I rolled my eyes. The scenery moved past the window as the truck continued down the road, but I was far too aware of his presence to pay attention to anything else. We spent most of the drive in silence. Not because there was nothing to say. Maybe exactly the opposite. There were too many things.

Too many words.

Too many questions.

So we simply let the sound of the engine fill the space between us. Every now and then, I'd feel Logan looking at me. And inevitably, I'd glance back. Only to immediately look away again.

Like an idiot.

Like we were fifteen-year-olds. Which was ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. Even so, the tension remained. Palpable. The kind of tension that made the air feel heavier.

When the campus lights finally appeared in the distance, I felt a strange sense of relief. And an equally strange disappointment. Because it meant the drive was ending. And I still had absolutely no idea what to do with any of this. Logan slowed down as he drove through the gates of Briar U. The familiar buildings appeared around us. The dorms. The sidewalks. Students walking between buildings.

Everything looked exactly the same. Which was irritating. Because I definitely didn't feel the same. The truck stopped in front of my building. The engine kept running. For a few seconds, neither of us moved. I looked out the window. Then at my hands. Then anywhere that wasn't Logan.

"Thanks for the ride."

My voice came out quietly.

He nodded.

"You're welcome."

Another silence.

Then another.

My heart began to race. Because there was something in the way he was looking at me. Like he was thinking. Deciding. Choosing his words. When I finally found the courage to look up, I met his eyes immediately. Mistake. A serious mistake. Because that look made my stomach flip all over again.

Logan ran a hand over the back of his neck. A gesture I already knew. Nervousness.

´´What's on your mind? ´´

I asked before I could stop myself. He let out a slow breath.

"I was thinking that i ruine..."

But he didn't finish the sentence. His gaze shifted over my shoulder. And then a knock on the window made me jump.I immediately turned my head. And found the last person I expected to see. My brain simply stopped working. For an entire second.

"What the fuck?"

I murmured as I rolled down the window. Outside, he smiled as if showing up after months of disappearing was the most normal thing in the world.

"Surprise."

I stared at his face trying to process it. Trying to figure out whether I was simply too exhausted and had started hallucinating.

Because it made absolutely no sense. None If I could stop people from reappearing in my life at the worst possible moments, I would do it immediately. Because Thomas Aiken should not have been there. Not that night. Not after months of disappearing. And definitely not after the conversation I'd just had with Logan. But for some cruel reason, the universe seemed to enjoy watching me suffer.

"Uhm...no."

The word escaped before I could even process the shock. I slowly shook my head. As if that would somehow make him disappear. Thomas tilted his head. His pale eyes moved from me to the truck. Then to Logan. Then back to me. Curiosity appeared on his face almost instantly. He was putting the puzzle together. And I hated that.

"I thought I'd get a better welcome." His smile widened. That arrogant smile that used to work on practically everyone. "Maybe you'd run into my arms."

"Not even in your dreams."

"Maybe wearing a sexy maid outfit."

The comment earned him a murderous glare. On any other day, I might've rolled my eyes and played along. But not that day. Not after the evaluation. Not after my mother. Not after almost crying on the side of a road.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

His smile faltered. Just for a second.

"Your mother called me."

My stomach dropped. Of course. Of course it had been Alicia. Who else would've done it? Thomas shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.

"She said you needed me."

A disbelieving laugh escaped my lips. Quiet. Humorless.

"Well, then you should leave."

The smile disappeared completely this time. The night breeze passed between us, stirring strands of my hair. A throat clearing. When I turned my head, I found Logan watching the scene. And something strange happened inside my chest. Because he was looking at me.

Not Thomas.

Me.

His fingers still resting on the steering wheel.

His shoulders tense.

His lips slightly parted. As if something was stuck in his throat. As if he was about to say something. Or had just decided not to. My stomach tightened. For a moment, the entire parking lot seemed to disappear. The students crossing the courtyard. The streetlights. The night wind. Everything. Only those brown eyes remained. And the uncomfortable feeling that something between us had been left unfinished. I looked away first. Because it was easier. It always was.

"Thanks for the ride again, Logan."

My voice came out softer than I intended. More intimate too. And that irritated me. Logan blinked once. As if I'd pulled him back to reality.

"Of course. "

Just that. One word. But there was something in it. Something that made my heart stumble. I closed the truck door. The sound echoed through the quiet parking lot. Thomas was watching everything. Absolutely everything. With far too much attention. Like an audience member watching a play without fully understanding the plot, but realizing he'd missed several important chapters. I started walking away. One step then another. Then I heard my name.

"Hey."

I stopped immediately.

My body reacted before my brain could. I turned around. Logan was leaning across the passenger seat, bracing himself against the center console so he could see me through the open window. The yellow glow of the parking lot lights cast soft shadows across his face.

And for the first time that night, he looked nervous. Genuinely nervous. The thought caught me completely off guard.

"Can I talk to you later?" The question lingered between us. Simple. Small. But my heart reacted as if it were so much more.

"Sure."

His eyes softened immediately. Almost imperceptibly. As if that answer had eased a concern he'd been carrying ever since I'd gotten into the truck.

He nodded.

Slowly.

"I'll text you then."

"Yeah..."

Neither of us moved.

And it would've been awkward if it hadn't felt so natural. As if we were both waiting for something. One more sentence. A few more seconds. One more excuse to stay there. Logan's smile returned. Small. Almost shy. An expression I didn't see very often. Then he nodded one last time.

"Goodnight, gorgeous."

My heart stumbled. Because it had been weeks since I'd heard him call me that. Because I hated the effect that nickname had on me. And because, for one ridiculous moment, I wanted to ask him to stay. But the truck began to move. Slowly. The red taillights disappeared across the parking lot until they vanished around the curve leading to the men's dorms. And I watched the truck for far too long. Long enough to feel Thomas's stare burning into the side of my face.

"Who was your friend?"

The question came with a lazy gesture toward the truck disappearing in the distance.

I immediately looked down. As if that could hide anything. As if hiding things had ever worked with Thomas.

"No one."

I heard him laugh behind me. That low, disbelieving laugh I knew far too well.

"That's a lie." I kept walking. Without looking at him. Without slowing down. "You're practically dripping with lust around him."

The words hit me so fast I nearly tripped over my own feet.

"Go fuck yourself."

Thomas laughed loudly. The sound echoed through the entrance hallway. And I hated the fact that I still recognized it instantly.

"It hurts me to know we spent so much time training together and you still think you can lie to me, sweetheart." 

I stopped so abruptly he almost walked into my back. I slowly turned around.

"You were much better at lying, Thomas. You cheated on me while we were on the ice together."

I kept walking before he could answer. Climbed the stairs. Crossed the hallway to my floor. Searched through my bag for my keys. And tried to ignore the fact that Thomas was still following me. When I finally reached my apartment door, I shoved the key into the lock and stepped inside. The relief lasted approximately two seconds. Because I heard his footsteps right behind me. I immediately turned around before he could cross the threshold. And blocked the entrance. One hand on the door. My body filling the doorway. The message was clear and Thomas raised his eyebrows. "Sweetheart..."

"Don't call me that. It's been more than eight months, Thomas. Stop." My voice came out tired. "I'm fine."

He let out a humorless laugh. The kind that never reached his eyes.

"You look like anything but fine."

I ignored him. Because if I let that conversation continue, I'd probably end up crying. And I'd already cried enough that week.

"My life started again." The words came out quiet. But firm. ´´So I suggest you leave."

Thomas watched me in silence.

"Your mother..."

"She can go to hell too. Who does she think she is, wanting one of the people who hurt me the most back in my life? It just proves she doesn't know me, and neither do you." My throat tightened. Because it was true. Or at least I was desperately trying to make it true. I lifted my chin. Trying to look stronger than I felt. "There's nothing here for you, Thomas."

The silence that followed lasted so long it hurt. His eyes never left mine. And for the first time since he'd appeared, there was no teasing in them. When he finally spoke, his voice was low.

"Is that what you really believe?"

"That's what I really know. And maybe that's why my heart has gone cold."

Thomas held my gaze for so long that breathing became difficult. As if the entire world was waiting to see which one of us would give in first. But I didn't. I remained standing in the doorway, my hand resting against the door, blocking his path. A simple barrier. A ridiculous one, even. But it was the only thing I had at that moment.

"Okay."

The word came out quietly.

"If that's what you want..." The sentence died halfway through. His jaw tightened. "Then I'll leave."

Thomas looked away, staring at the floor for a moment. As if finding the strength to leave was harder than finding the strength to show up. When he looked back at me, a small smile appeared. The shadow of the smile I used to know. "You're still terrible when you're hurt." I rolled my eyes immediately and that made the corner of his mouth lift a little higher. "See?" His voice came out softer. More like the Thomas who existed before everything went wrong.

"The same murderous look."

Responding meant stepping back into territory I'd spent eight months trying to leave behind. The smile slowly faded. Taken away by the silence. Thomas took a deep breath. Then stepped back. And another step. His eyes traveled over my face one last time. As if he were trying to save something. Memorize something.

I hated that I knew exactly what that felt like. Then he spoke. Quietly. Almost a whisper.

"I never wanted to hurt you." I closed my eyes for a second. Because those words came too late. Months too late. When I looked at him again, my throat tightened. But I kept my voice steady.

"But you did."

Thomas nodded. Without arguing. Because it meant he knew. Knew exactly what he'd done. Knew exactly what he'd destroyed. We were long past pretending otherwise. Silence returned. And this time, neither of us tried to fill it. Finally, Thomas shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. His shoulders slumped. His expression tired. Looking older than I remembered.

"Goodnight." My heart didn't waver, because the only person it beat for had already left.

"Goodnight, Thomas."

I watched him walk away until he disappeared completely. Only then did I realize I was still standing in the doorway. Staring at an empty hallway. And for the first time in eight months… Thomas Aiken had left when I asked him to.

English isn't my first language, so pls go easy on me.

hehe