Page 40 of Heartstruck

Jared

We lost the game. Bad.

The locker room feels like a tomb. No one speaks, the usual chatter and banter replaced by the sound of cleats scraping the floor and the occasional slam of a locker door. Coach’s speech after the game was short, his words cutting deeper because we all knew he was right.

I sit on the bench, staring at my hands, still wrapped in tape. My head pounds, a mix of exhaustion and frustration clawing at me. This wasn’t just a loss—it was my loss. I dropped two critical passes, both of which could’ve turned the game around.

“You good?” Troy’s voice breaks carefully through the silence.

I glance at him, then nod once. “Yeah. Just pissed.”

“Join the club.” He sits down beside me, running a towel over his face. “But hey, it’s one game. We’ll bounce back.”

I don’t respond, because it doesn’t feel like just one game. It feels like the kind of loss that hangs around, that sticks in your head no matter how hard you try to dodge it.

As the guys start filing out, I stay put, letting the room empty until it’s just me. My phone buzzes in my bag, but I ignore it. I already know it’s Alli. She’d been in the stands, cheering me on like always, but I can’t bring myself to face her right now.

She doesn’t deserve this version of me. The one who screws up when it matters, who can’t keep it together even when she’s trying so damn hard to be there for me when I’ve been brushing her off.

By the time I leave the locker room, the stadium’s empty. The cold bites at my skin as I step into the night, my bag hanging off one shoulder.

I pull out my phone and stare at the screen.

Alli: hi, you okay?

Alli: i’m here if you want to talk

My fingers hover over the keyboard, but I can’t bring myself to reply.

With a sigh, I shove the phone into my pocket and start walking.

The campus is loud around me, people rushing to get to wherever they’re going, but it feels like I’m invisible.

The world moves around me, but no one notices.

I’m everything when we win, but it’s the opposite tonight.

In what must’ve been an attempt to shake off tonight’s loss, the guys decided to throw a get-together at our shared apartment.

When I step inside, laughter and loud voices spill into the hallway, washing over me like a wave. The silence I’ve been holding onto feels louder than ever, the heaviness in my chest growing with each passing second. The thought of pretending to smile for anyone tonight feels impossible.

I shove the door open and step inside, greeted by the sight of Chase and Troy in the kitchen, cracking open beers. A couple of other teammates are sprawled on the couch, arguing over whose turn it is in a video game. The place reeks of beer and leftover pizza, and the noise is already deafening.

“Jared!” Chase spots me and grins, lifting a can in salute. “Figured you’d head straight to bed. Come on, man, grab a drink.”

I force a smile and shake my head. “Not tonight.”

“Aw, come on,” Troy says, leaning against the counter with a lazy smirk. “One beer won’t kill you.”

“I’m good.” I wave them off and head toward my room, but Troy isn’t letting it go.

“Hey,” he calls after me, his tone light but laced with concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I lie, not bothering to turn around. “Just tired.”

I close the door behind me and lean against it, exhaling a shaky breath. The muffled sounds of their laughter and chatter seep through the walls, but I ignore it, moving to sit on the edge of my bed.

The game replays in my mind in a cruel loop: every fumble, every missed pass, every chance to turn things around that I blew. It doesn’t matter how many times people tell you it’s just a game; when you’re the one screwing up, it feels like the world is watching your every move.

My phone buzzes again, pulling me out of my spiral. It’s Alli.

Alli: you don’t have to talk, but at least let me know if you’re alive

I swallow, not just for my throat, but for my pride. For a second, I consider calling her. But then the doubt creeps in: what if she’s better off without this mess?

My thoughts drift back to Thanksgiving. I tried so hard to be someone that Alli is proud of. But hearing her aunt talk about me, my reputation, and the fake smiles she thought I didn’t notice. It had hit a nerve I didn’t know was raw.

Part of me wants to prove her aunt wrong, to show Alli’s family that I am so much more than my mother’s past. But tonight’s game just reinforced everything I’ve been trying to ignore.

Every bad decision on the field, every time I missed a pass or hesitated.

It felt like a confirmation that I wasn’t good enough.

Not for the team, not for Alli, not for anyone.

The guys outside laugh again, louder this time, and I know I won’t get any peace here tonight.

Grabbing my jacket, I slip back out the door without anyone noticing.

The night air stings my face as I make my way across campus and to the beach for peace and quiet.

It’s late, and most people are already at bars or their apartments, escaping the chill.

When I reach the sandy shores, my knees give out once the pain in my chest becomes unbearable. With all my might, I contain a cry.

Just then, footsteps crunch behind me, breaking the silence. I don’t bother turning around.

“Figured I’d find you here,” Alli says softly, her voice cutting through the cold night air.

I glance up as she steps into view, bundled in her coat, cheeks pink from the chill.

I rise to my feet, my hands instinctively finding her arms to keep her warm. “Babe, what are you doing out here? It’s freezing.”

“Yeah, well,” she says, sitting down on the bench. “You didn’t exactly leave me a choice. You haven’t really been talking to me.”

“Not now, Alli,” I mutter, my emotions barely contained. “I’m—”

“No,” she interrupts, her voice firm. “We’re doing this right now. You can’t just ice me out every time things get hard.”

I exhale sharply, running a hand through my hair. “I just need space, okay?”

She doesn’t move, her gaze pinning me in place. “And I’ve given you space. But at some point, you need to talk to me. You can’t keep shutting me out like this. You’ve been acting weird since we came back from Thanksgiving. And… I don’t know, I just thought we’d had a good time.”

Her words hit harder than I expect, and I look away, unable to hold her gaze.

“It’s not about you, nor Thanksgiving. It’s… everything else. The game, school, my head—it’s all too much. I’m drowning, Alli.”

There’s a long pause before she speaks again. Her voice drops down multiple volumes that I can’t register, “Let me help.”

I shake my head, taking a step back. “You shouldn’t have to deal with all this. I’m not… I’m not in a good place right now, Alli. You deserve someone who’s… better.”

Her voice remains calm, but the fire in her eyes says otherwise. “You don’t get to decide what I deserve. That’s my choice. And I’m choosing you , mess and all.”

I scoff, the frustration boiling over. “Why would you choose this? I have nothing figured out.”

Her breath catches, and the hurt flashing across her face makes me feel like a jackass. “Just say it.”

“Say what?”

“That you don’t want to be with me,” she snaps, her laugh bitter. “Isn’t that what this is? You don’t want me anymore, and instead of telling me, you’re pushing me away.”

“What? No, I—”

“Then say it!” she cuts me off, her voice rising. “Say you do want me! Or just… go ahead, Jared. Walk away, just like you did when we were younger. I was just for fun then and still just for fun today.”

I go rigid, her words landing like a sucker punch to the ribs. “That doesn’t count,” I fire back, my voice edged with disbelief. “We weren’t a thing back then.”

“Oh, yeah?” Her laugh is hollow, and she shakes her head. “There it is. That’s all I needed to hear.”

“Alli, stop,” I say, closing the distance between us. “You’re twisting my words.”

She turns to face me, her eyes blazing. “Is that what you think? I’m just trying to understand! I think, and think, and think! It’s all I do! You’re the one shutting me out, Jared. You’re the one making me feel like I’m just too much to deal with.”

I flinch, her words slicing through me like a goddamn blade. “You’re not a burden,” I say, frustration lacing my voice. “You’re the only thing that makes sense to me. But I don’t know how to be what you need.”

Her eyes narrow, her arms cross over her chest, and I see the wall going up between us, brick by brick. “I’m not asking you to be perfect. I’m asking you to let me in. But if you can’t even do that, then maybe I was wrong about us.”

Her words leave me gutted. I open my mouth, but only an exhale comes out. Her expression flinches, but I can tell it’s not anger. It’s sadness.

“I never said I didn’t want to be with you,” the words come out thick, like they’ve been lodged in my throat for too long.

“Then prove it.” She steps in, eyes shining with unshed tears. “Say you want this, us. Because I can’t keep guessing. I can’t keep fighting for someone who’s already given up.”

The walls close in on me, and my mouth goes dry as the words refuse to come. It’s like my mind goes still, trapped in the silence.

She takes a step back, her arms dropping to her sides.

“Alli…” I reach for her, but she pulls away, the distance between us suddenly insurmountable.

“You know what the worst part is?” she says, her voice trembling. “I thought I was different this time. That we were different.”

“That’s not fair,” I snap, the frustration bubbling up. “You think this is easy for me? You think I want to feel like I’m drowning?”

She cuts through my defense, her voice sharp. “Don’t make this about protecting me. This isn’t about me, Jared. It’s about you being too scared to let someone care about you. If you want people to care for you, to be there for you, you need to let them in. You can’t even do that for me.”

The truth in her words knocks the breath out of me, but I still can’t say what she needs to hear.

She blinks rapidly, her shoulders sagging. “I can’t do this anymore,” she whispers. “I’m done waiting for you to decide if I’m worth it.”

Panic claws at my chest, and I step toward her. “Alli, don’t do this. Please.” But she shakes her head, her tears glistening in the moonlight.

“You already did, Jared.”