Page 132 of Bad Prince
Not for them.
For me.
Because I did that.
And when I glance up once more?
The seats are empty.
Weeks pass.
Silence settles.
If I see Kane in the athletic complex, it’s a nod.
Professional.
If I pass Tristan near the weight room, he doesn’t linger.
He said he’d leave me alone.
He does.
It should feel peaceful.
Instead it feels like standing in a room after music stops.
Too quiet.
It’s what I wanted. I’m locked in. All business. The rest of the week is the same routine giving me no time time to think about heartache.
In the locker room before the next away game, Delia bursts out laughing at her phone.
“Oh my God.”
“What?”
She turns the screen toward me.
Snapchat poll.
Who gets Kane Callahan’s courtside family tickets this season?
Option 1: The ex
Option 2: Sigma freshman
Option 3: Blonde Kappa bombshell
There’s a blurry photo of Kane leaning toward a girl at a party, her hand on his chest.
He looks relaxed.
Uncomplicated.
My stomach tightens before I can stop it.
“That’s just Kane,” Delia shrugs. “Background noise.”
