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“It’s her, isn’t it?” he asks.

I scrub my hands over my face. “She’s fucking everywhere,” I mumble behind my hands. It’s overdramatic, but it feels true, even if it’s not.

“Shit. You haveanotherclass with her?” Chris asks.

I shake my head. “She works at Java the Hutt. I’ve been avoiding it all week.” I glance over at West who’s well aware I’ve been skipping my twice-daily coffee runs; he just doesn’t knowwhy.

Chris crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes brightening. “So, you haven’t been getting those girly drinks of yours?”

“They’re not girly.” I scowl. “Besides, it’s not just the drinks.” Though I fucking miss them like I’d miss a limb. “It’s the routine. Everything’s off, I’m getting headaches in the afternoon, and she’s got me fucking paranoid. Everywhere I turn, I’m looking for her, waiting for the next time I’ll see her. For her to find one more thing I love, and tarnish that, too.”

Chris grunts while Jace and Brandon exchange glances, but it’s West who speaks up. “You need to talk to her.”

“You seldom have anything to say, and that’s what you come up with?” I shake my head and pinch the bridge of my nose. “I told you?”

“But that was before the championship was at stake,” Jace interrupts.

Chris steps forward, meeting my eyes. “The whole team depends on you, man. We need you with us one hundred percent.”

“You think I don’t know that?” I snap. “You think I don’t know I’m letting everyone down? That I’m about to fucking blow it, all because I can’t get my fucking feelings in check?” I growl and peel my pants off while my stiff muscles scream.

“If you know it’s messing you up, then you need to do something about it.” Jace shrugs like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“Avoiding her isn’t working,” West agrees.

“This thing with her is eating you alive,” Brandon chimes in. “We can all see it.”

What the fuck is this? Jump on Damon day?

I scowl as I glance between their faces. “It won’t help.”

Chris scoffs. “Well, it can’t get any worse than this, so I think it’s safe to say it’s worth a shot.”

I clench my jaw so hard my teeth ache as I reach into my locker and grab a towel. I never should’ve told them about Avery. I should’ve just kept it all buried, bottled up in the recesses of my mind where my feelings belong. “I’m not talking to her, so just drop it.”

Jace throws his hands up. “Seriously, man?”

I slam my locker shut, effectively cutting him off. The sound echoes in the space between us like a thunderclap, and several heads turn my way while my friends just stare at me through narrowed, judgy eyes.

Without another word, I turn for the showers, managing to ignore everyone around me until I’m dressed and outside, headed for my car.

Sliding behind the wheel of my old Chevy pickup, I lean back in the tattered seat and close my eyes while I think about everything my friends said. Deep down, I know they’re right. If I keep going like this, my game will suffer, and I’ll fail. We’ll lose the semifinals, and all my hard work and dedication will be for nothing. But I also can’t imagine sitting down across from Avery and listening to anything she has to say. If it’s closure she wants, she can forget it. I owe her nothing, especially not my time and energy.

The shrill sound of my phone cuts through my thoughts, the sound jarring in the silence. Turning, I rummage through my duffle bag and pull it out, glancing at the screen before I answer.

“Hey, Dad,” I breathe, trying to inject some semblance of happiness into my voice.

“Sound a little happier, will ya?” my father says. “The Peach Bowl,” he says, referring to our semi-final game, “is only two days away, and you sound miserable. Is Coach Greene working you too hard?”

My heart pinches at the sound of his voice. If there’s one person who wants this as much as I do, it’s him. He’s been there for me every second of the way. He’s my biggest cheerleader and my number-one fan.

“Yeah.” I force a chuckle past my lips. “Sorry. I’m just tired. He’s been kicking our asses, that’s for sure.”

“Did you just finish practice for the day?”

“Yep,” I say, trying to inject some happiness into my voice. “Time to grab some food and ice my arm. Did you finish making travel arrangements for this weekend?”

“Sure did,” he says like a proud papa bear. I can practically see him pushing out his chest. “I’ll be in Atlanta by Saturday night.”