Page 95 of Offside Attraction
“Are you gonna say something anytime soon? Or you’re gonna keep on staring at me like that?”
“Well, I don’t know where to start,” Tripp says, leaning back against his chair and giving me a mock–serious look. “What was that about? You and Hayes in class today. That argument you two had, I’m sure as shit something happened between you two.”
“Nothing happened,” I blurt out at once, my shoulders tense as I try to push back the memory of that lake to the back of my head.
“Something definitely happened. You know you can confide in me, right? I don’t know what I have to do to get you to trust me.”
I sigh, running a hand through my hair as I glance away. Tripp’s gaze is steady, patient, but there’s an undercurrent ofconcern in his voice that makes it hard to brush him off completely.
“It’s not about trust,” I say, my tone quieter now. “It’s… complicated.”
“Complicated,” he repeats, leaning back in his chair as if testing the weight of the word. “That’s a classic Miller deflection if I’ve ever heard one.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m serious, Tripp.”
“And so am I.” He folds his arms, his usually playful demeanor replaced by something more grounded. “Look, you don’t have to spill your deepest, darkest secrets, but whatever’s eating you—it’s not nothing. I know we’re not close or anything like that, but I’ve known you long enough to tell when something’s up. And I’m your friend, Dakota, and friends confide in one another.”
“Fuck, you sound like a babe,”
“Fuck you,” Tripp says and we burst into a small laugh.
Involuntarily, my gaze drifts to Hayes’ table where he’s sitting like he owns the place. His arm is still casually draped over Shay’s chair, but he’s not paying attention to her. Instead, he’s laughing at something one of his friends just said, the sound deep and rich, cutting through the noise of the cafeteria.
I hate how easily he commands the room, how he doesn’t even have to try to be the center of attention. Everyone just gravitates toward him, like planets around a star. But what really gets under my skin is how, even surrounded by people, he seems untouchable, like nothing can crack that confident facade of his.
My chest tightens as I watch him, memories from the lake creeping into my thoughts. The way he looked at me last night—intense, unguarded, like he was seeing me for the first time—doesn’t match the Hayes sitting here now, laughing without a care in the world. Slowly, he flicks his gaze toward my form, eyes dark and lidded, like he knows I’ve been staring at him far too long. He glares at me, as if daring me to look away first.I glare back, refusing to give him the satisfaction of winning this unspoken challenge. My pulse quickens, but I keep my expression steady, my jaw tightening as I hold his gaze. The tension between us stretches thin, a taut thread threatening to snap.
Hayes shifts in his seat, leaning forward slightly, his glare darkening as if to say,What are you going to do about it?It’s infuriating, that smugness, that silent arrogance he wears like armor. He knows exactly what he’s doing—dragging me into this game, making it impossible to ignore him.
I can feel Tripp’s eyes on me now, too, his curiosity practically radiating across the table. “Dakota?” he mutters under his breath, but I don’t respond. I can’t—not when Hayes is still staring me down like I’m the only other person in this room.
Seconds pass, maybe longer, and the tension grows heavier, sharper. It’s Hayes who finally breaks the moment, though not in the way I expect. His lips curve into a slow, deliberate smirk, the kind that makes my stomach twist with both irritation and something else I can’t quite name. He leans back, tilting his head as if to say,That’s what I thought, before turning his attention back to Shay.
The shift feels like a slap, leaving me brimming with anger I can’t explain. I exhale sharply, tapping my fingers on the wooden table.
“You wanna talk about what the hell is going on between you and Hayes?” Tripp asks. He sounds frustrated and I have a feeling that if I don’t give him an honest answer, he won’t bug me about this topic again.
And maybe I’d like that. Seth is the only person who knows about Hayes and me. I haven’t confided in another person after I told Seth what happened between me and Hayes. Tripp is a good guy, I know that. But telling another person about the kind of mess Hayes put me in, will only feel like reliving these past yearsof my life. And it’s not something I’d like to go through with. But brushing the topic off each time Tripp brings it up is starting to feel like walking a tightrope. I can see the questions in his eyes, the concern he doesn’t voice, and it only makes the weight of it all heavier. Tripp means well—I know he does—but this isn’t something I can just talk about. Not again.
Seth was different. We were really close and I was in a vulnerable state I didn’t know when I started spilling out my guts. It felt good to let it all out at the time. But retelling that story or even bits of it may finally make me accept how I truly feel about Hayes. How much I want him, and how badly I want him to be mine. Even though that’s never going to happen.
This shit sucks.
Tripp clears his throat, breaking me out of my thoughts. “You know, I’m not trying to pry or anything,” he says carefully, his voice softer than usual. “But you’re… different when it comes to him. I don’t know what went down, and I’m not asking you to spill your guts or whatever, but just—don’t let him screw with your head. You’re better than that.”
His words hit harder than they should, and I can’t tell if it’s because he’s right or because it feels like he’s poking at something I’ve spent years trying to bury. Either way, I nod, giving him the smallest of smiles. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Tripp studies me for a moment, like he’s trying to decide whether to push further, but then he lets out a dramatic sigh and leans back in his chair. “Good. Because if you go full-on melodrama over some guy, I’m gonna have to stage an intervention.”
I chuckle despite myself, grateful for the way he shifts the mood without making it feel forced. “Noted,” I say, shaking my head. “But don’t hold your breath.”
“Hey, I’ve got all the time in the world,” he says with a grin. “And I’m not going anywhere, Dakota. Just so you know.”
His words linger longer than I expect them to, and as the noise of the cafeteria swirls back around us, I feel a small flicker of relief. Maybe I don’t have to tell Tripp everything—but knowing he’s here, that he’s willing to stick around no matter how messy things get, makes the weight on my shoulders feel just a little lighter.
Thedetentionroomfeelslike a cage, the dim light casting shadows over the desks. I sit with my arms crossed, glaring out the window, the tick-tock of the clock drilling into my skull.
The desks are arranged in neat rows, and the faint smell of dry-erase markers lingers in the air. It’s quiet—too quiet. The only sound is the scratching of Mr. Callahan’s pen as he grades papers at his desk.