Page 9 of Fragile (Cedar Lakes University #2)

Chapter eight

Quinn

I have one goal in mind as I jog toward the locker room entrance. I need to check on Miles. After he was benched, he wouldn’t look at me again; he focused on the game and shut out everything else. And even though the team won, he stalked off to the locker room just before everyone left the field. I took the fastest shower of my life and changed before heading down here. I know I shouldn’t be here, but I need to see him.

Players pass me by in a blur of suits, but I’m not paying attention to their faces.

My brother spots me and steps in front of the locker room door, blocking my way. “Quinn, he’s not in the mood for a pep talk,” Seb says.

“What makes you think I’m going to do that? I want to check he’s okay.” Glaring up at him, I will him to move but he doesn’t.

“Trust us, you’ll want to leave him alone tonight,” Hudson adds, making me bite my cheek to stop from snapping, but it’s no use.

My jaw clenches. “No, I want to see him.”

I have to.

Seb sighs and hangs his head low. “His dad is in there right now. Coach just left. It’s not pretty.”

“I don’t care. He needs his friends.”

“Quinn, please,” Seb begs, frustration lacing his tone.

“I’m not interested in what Miles the football player is doing right now. I need to know that my best friend is okay.”

I’m done with this conversation. If his dad is in there, making him feel like shit, I’m not going to let that happen because, knowing Miles, he already feels like shit without people drilling it into him. I force my way past Seb and Hudson and smack my hands on the heavy door, pushing it open.

Immediately, I can make out the edges of a voice, harsh and cutting, though the words aren’t clear. It’s obvious he’s shouting. Berating. Furious. My feet stutter and my pace slows in anticipation.

I chew on my bottom lip as I debate what to do. I know I shouldn't eavesdrop, but the pull of curiosity and concern is too strong. Miles got kicked out of the game, and he’ll feel awful for fighting. He never fights, so something isn’t right. I inch closer to the door, the cold metal handle brushing against my arm.

Through the narrow crack in the doorway, I see Miles sitting on the bench, his white shirt half open, with his suit trousers on. It looks like his dad barely gave him a chance to get dressed. His shoulders are hunched and his head down as his dad looms over him, gesticulating wildly, casting dark shadows over Miles as he paces across the room. I strain to hear, pressing myself as close to the door as I can without drawing attention.

“How could you be so goddamn careless?” Miles’s dad’s voice finally comes through more clearly.

When he spins around, I see his face is a mask of anger, his jaw set in a hard line. It makes me shrivel, and I’m not the one he’s directing it at.

“I don't know, Dad,” he mumbles, sounding dejected. “It was just a bad game.”

“A bad game?” He huffs incredulously. Stopping his pacing, he faces Miles once more, leaning forward and jabbing his finger toward his son, venom pouring from each word as he spits, “That was more than a bad game, Miles. You were a disaster out there—both in your attitude and your fucking playing. Maybe if you’re head wasn’t up your fucking ass, you wouldn’t have been so sloppy.” He straightens, ticking off faults on his fingers, which, in my opinion, weren’t event that bad. “You missed that block in the second quarter, you fumbled the ball in the third, and let's not even talk about that fight that finally got you taken out of the game. All things I know should never have happened. You’re better than that. I trained you better than that. You’re not some pathetic wannabe out on that field. Your Miles fucking Cooper. I expect you to fucking act like it.”

Miles flinches with each accusation. I want so badly to walk in there and give him some kind of reassurance, but that probably isn’t going to be enough tonight. The knot in my stomach tightens as I wait helplessly behind a door I’m not sure I should open.

“You let your team down.” His dad continues, letting his sour mood emanate from him, not bothering to filter his emotions. “You let me down. I worked so hard to get you to this point, and this is what you do with it?”

A loud bang startles me, and I realize it's the sound of his dad's fist hitting the metal lockers. Suddenly, the door I’m leaning against flies opens, and I stumble forward as Seb storms past me. I hadn’t even realized he was standing behind me. “Woah, woah, sir,” Seb cuts in, standing between them in the middle of the room. “With all due respect, Miles isn’t the only one on the team.”

I’m rooted in place, my body frozen. I don’t know if I should follow my brother, but at the last second, my foot catches the door before it closes completely. Not that I can move, caught between the doorway and the room. Mark Cooper is frightening, and I don’t know how to react.

Turning his wild eyes to my brother, he hisses a dark laugh. “I’m well aware of that, Sebastian. I’ll be reporting to your father too. I don’t think he’ll be pleased to see how distracted his star player was out there.”

Seb rears back in disbelief.

“That’s enough!” Miles bellows. Fury flares his nostrils as he stands, knocking his helmet to the ground. “You need to leave,” he growls, his voice deeper and darker than I’ve ever heard before.

The room feels smaller. I’m pretty sure I’ve stopped breathing.

Mr. Cooper’s mood becomes deadly, suffocating even. When he takes one menacing step toward Miles, my heart lurches. Surely, he wouldn’t… I don’t have to see him to know his teeth are gritted as he hisses loud enough to be heard, “This isn’t over.” With that, he turns and leaves, the black cloud following him, wrenching open the door being propped by my foot and brushing past me without a care.

“Can’t fucking wait,” Miles mutters, running a hand down his face.

My mouth opens and closes, but I have no idea what I can say to make this better. Tentatively, I walk over to the bench and sit next to him. My brother does the same, but it’s like Miles hasn’t noticed, his gaze glued to the floor. I can feel the tension radiating off him, like he's trying to hold himself together.

Growing up, we all knew that Mark Cooper had a temper; I’ve just never witnessed it like this before. It’s a lot of the reason Miles spent so much time at our house, especially since his mom passed. My parents used to say that he was grieving, and he needed to work through it, but it’s been years , and nothing has changed, it seems.

I move my hand closer to his, where he grips the bench with whitened knuckles, and brush my pinky finger against his. He jolts at the movement, his eyes immediately going to our hands. When his eyes rise to mine, they’re so full of emotion that it steals my breath for a second.

I want to do anything I can to make him forget about every harsh word. He doesn’t deserve this, no one does.

Seb clears his throat. “Miles, I’m sorry about your dad.”

Miles shakes his head, but his hand wraps over mine absently, squeezing it. “I just want to go home,” he murmurs. “I need to sleep.”

I exchange a glance with Seb.

“Miles, it’s—”

“Please don’t. Whatever you’re about to say, just don’t,” he pleads, trying to keep his voice even. “I just want to sleep it off.”

“Alright,” I say softly, then stand, not dropping his hand. “Let’s get you home.”

Seb stands too and pats Miles’s shoulder. “We’re here for you, man. Don’t forget that.”

I extend my other hand in a fist like I always do. “First down.”

He hesitates, and my heart stutters, but then, his hand gently knocks against mine. “All the way,” he whispers, with a ghost of a smirk. It doesn’t matter that it lacks his usual conviction; he said it, and that means he hears us.

Miles drops my hands and says, “Give me a second to finish getting dressed, and I’ll meet you out there.”

***

We walk Miles back to his dorm, where he tells us about a thousand times he will be fine and to leave him be. My brother can clearly sense my hesitation because he puts a hand on my shoulder, directing me to face him as soon as he closes the door.

“We’ll leave him tonight. I want to come with you to see Indie quickly, and then I’ll come back here and be across the hall. It’s fine, Quinn.”

I nod, but I’m distracted.

How can I be okay with leaving him when he feels so low? How am I meant to sleep, knowing he is hurting? More importantly, how can I take that pain from him? I can’t, and I know he needs time, but it makes me ache.

As we get to my dorm, the faint hum of music greets us. Paramore, I realize.

“I told her to go home and wait for us,” Seb states, as if hearing my thoughts.

Opening my door, I see Indie sitting on her desk chair. “Hey,” she says, putting her book down. “How is he?”

“He’s feeling like shit,” Seb sighs as he runs a hand over his hair. “I’m hoping he just needs sleep.” Walking over to Indie, he gently kisses her temple.

“I’m worried about him,” I say, finally vocalizing my thoughts. “I don’t think he’s been himself this year.”

Seb sprawls out on Indie’s bed. “Things haven’t been easy for him. Mark is a piece of work. I’ll get his head on straight, though.”

“Hmm.” I acknowledge what my brother is saying, but everything in my body and mind is telling me that I need to do more, to figure out how I can help him. “I’m going to shower.”

I wash off the game and the whole day, trying to think of scenarios and things I can do to lift his mood. It all feels superficial now, because this, what his dad said tonight, those things can’t be taken back. They’re permanent.

With a sigh, I reach for my towel, quickly dress, and return to my room within ten minutes. Seb is still on Indie’s bed, but she’s moved to be next to him now. I put my cheer outfit to one side and begin brushing my hair, my thoughts still on Miles. Always on him.

“Soooo,” Indie begins in a tone that I rarely hear from her. It snaps my head up, and I turn to face them on the other side of the room, curiosity piqued.

“Why does that ‘soooo’ feel fully loaded?” I narrow my eyes at her.

She flicks her tongue over her lip ring rhythmically before answering, a habit when she’s nervous. “I know the timing isn’t great, but I might’ve found you a date.”

For a moment, I’m frozen, processing the information. Then, a million questions flood my brain. None of which I have the energy to ask. “Oh?”

“He’s in my music class. You might know him. He took the same AP Calc class as you last year. He’s six feet tall. He’s nice, a little quiet, plays the cello, is super talented, and his name is Alex.”

My hands instantly go clammy, and I place my brush down, wringing my fingers together, unsure how to deal with the anxiety that’s suddenly racing through me. “I don’t remember an Alex, but maybe I’d know him if I saw him?” My feet trace the length of our room and back again. I don’t know how to feel about actually going on a date. We talked about it, and it was all my idea, but actually knowing someone is interested, and it could happen, that’s scary. It feels final, like I’m somehow betraying something that never actually existed between Miles and me. Which is completely insane to even think of us as a we . He is him and I’m me. There’s no us.

No matter the timing of it, I can’t help but feel like this is my opportunity to move on. To stop obsessing over someone who doesn’t have a clue about how I feel.

Turning to face them, I notice Seb’s lack of enthusiasm. Indie’s influence, no doubt. “And you don’t have anything to say about this?” I ask him.

His gaze briefly flits to me, but Indie cuts in. “Tell her how happy you are.” Her death stare, usually reserved for when Jay and Hudson bicker, makes even my brother shudder.

When his eyes meet mine, the same color reflects back at me. His mouth firmly placed into a forced smile that fools no one. “Thrilled,” he grits out, and I have to curl my lips inwards to stop a bellowing laugh from escaping.

Indie sighs loudly. “He is happy for you.”

“Absolutely.” I chuckle. “And you’re not going to butt in at any point, right?”

“I will not sabotage.”

“Was that so hard?” Indie asks.

“It was, actually,” Seb retorts.

The reality of having a date with someone who knows of me and isn’t deterred by my brother, well, that makes me little bit giddy. “I’ve got a date.” I test the words on my tongue, and they feel odd.

Seb grunts in disapproval. He’s always been the best big brother, but thanks to Indie, I’m finally feeling like I can spread my wings a little more. “Oh god, what do I wear? Where am I going? Is it casual?” My heart rate kicks up a notch, and I can’t tell if its nerves, fear, or excitement. Try everything.

“I have his number for you. I wasn’t about to give yours out, because girl code and all.”

“You’re the best.”

She shrugs and reaches for her phone, pinging me his details. “I know.”

My brother stands, packing away his laptop and notebook. “I’m going back to check on Miles.” He leans down to whisper something to Indie that I know I don’t want to hear, judging by the color of her cheeks. And the mention of his name brings back that guilt. Should I be thinking about dating when he’s hurting? God, I sound so ridiculous. He doesn’t care about me like that. Sure, he cares. Miles is so incredibly caring and thoughtful; he always has been, but he doesn’t see me like I see him.

Resolve fires into my bloodstream. I need to get a grip. I can still be there for him as a friend if he needs me, but I need to move on.

Opening my phone, I see Alex’s details and force a swallow. Why do I feel so nervous? My fingers hover over the keyboard, the words blurring together. It's just a text. A simple message. Why does it feel like such a big deal?

Come on, Quinn. It's not that hard, I think to myself. But the more I think about it, the more my stomach twists. What if I say something wrong? What if Alex doesn't reply? What if he thinks I'm boring? A thousand what-ifs swirl in my mind, making me want to lock my phone and go back to lying on my bed.

“You okay over there?” Indie asks. When I look up, I realize my brother has gone, and I didn’t even notice him leave.

“I’ve never texted a guy asking him out before. What do I say?”

“You could say… 'Hey, Alex, it's Quinn. Indie mentioned that we should hang out sometime.' Simple, direct, and it opens the conversation.”

Covering my face with my hands, I groan. “It should be easy. I tend to ramble, though, and he might think he’s made a mistake before we’ve even met.”

“You? Ramble? I never realized,” Indie teases.

“Oh, she’s funny today,” I quip.

Indie rolls her eyes, coming to sit next to me, playfully nudging me with her shoulder. “Quinn, it's just a text. Alex is not going to dissect every word. Just be yourself.”

I peek at her through my fingers. “Easier said than done. What if he thinks I'm weird?”

“Newsflash: we're all weird. And if he doesn't appreciate your unique brand of weirdness, then he's not the right guy for you,” Indie says firmly.

I consider it, then nod slowly. “Yeah, that sounds good.” I open my phone again, typing out the message. After a moment’s hesitation, I hit send and toss it to the side like it’s on fire. “There, done,” I say on an exhale.

“See? That wasn't so bad. Now, the hard part is over.”

I laugh nervously. “Yeah, now I just have to wait and see if he replies.”

Indie grins at me. “He will. And if he doesn't, it’s his loss. You're awesome, Quinn. Don't forget that.”

I smile, feeling a little bit of the tension ease from my shoulders. “Thanks, Indie. I don't know what I’d do without you.”

She winks. “Probably still be staring at your phone. Now, let's go do something to take your mind off everything. How about we watch that terrible movie we’ve been avoiding?”

Anything to distract me sounds great.