Page 33 of Watching You

Like I’ve just stepped off a ledge I didn’t know I was standing on.

I stare at the screen, the words glowing back at me like a dare.

Meet me.

Before the game.

Before the noise.

Before the world sees us.

I clutch the phone tighter, pulse racing. I should count. I should breathe. I should do something. But all I can do is sit there, knees pulled to my chest, and whisper the numbers like a prayer.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

They don’t help.

Because Kane’s voice is louder.

You’re mine.

I’ll be the rhythm.

I want you under my life.

And now he wants me before the game.

Before the crowd.

Before the mask goes on.

I don’t know what that means.

But I know I’ll go.

Even if it shatters me.

Kinsley walks in, balancing a to-go box from the dining hall and a drink in her elbow. “I brought you a sandwich,” she mentions, voice light. “Figured you skipped dinner again.”

I wipe my face quickly, trying to smooth the panic from my features.

She sets the box on my desk, then turns toward my bed and freezes.

Her eyes lock on the jersey.

Kane’s jersey.

Her brother’s number.

Folded. Sitting there like a confession.

She doesn’t speak right away. Just stares. Then slowly walks over and sits beside me, her weight dipping the mattress.

“I saw your face before I saw the jersey,” she mentions quietly. “And it scared me.”

I blink, throat tight.