Page 35 of Disarm

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Caleb

I love you

Miguel

I know, baby. I love you too. Keep breathing for me.

TEN

CALEB

Game day always starts the same.

With nerves.

By the time I’m halfway through my protein bar, my stomach’s already doing somersaults. The air in the locker room smells like sweat and cheap detergent, and the guys are louder than usual, someone’s blasting E-40, and another’s yelling about missed calls from the last practice game. Everyone’s hyped.

Except me.

I’m sitting on the bench, tapping my heel against the tile, trying to breathe through the pressure building behind my ribs.

Coach said to relax. That it’s just another match.

But it’s not.

Not when my dad’s in the stands.

Not when Miguel said he’d be there too.

Not when it feels like the whole world’s waiting for me to prove I belong here.

I pull my phone from my locker and check it for maybe the tenth time. A text from Miguel from twenty minutes ago:

Miguel

You got this, baby. Don’t overthink it. Just play.

I breathe out a small laugh. The guy could calm me down with three words.

Caleb

You’re coming?

Miguel

Wouldn’t miss it for the world.

That helps.

Sort of.

But it also means I’ll have to see him and my dad in the same room for the first time in months.

Yeah. No pressure.

The gym’s already packed when we run out for warm-ups. The sound hits like a wave, shoes squeaking, cheers bouncing off the high rafters, and the pep band clanging from the upper bleachers. UCSC vs. UC Davis.

It’s not a rivalry game, but the energy’s there anyway.

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