The hallway outside the school gym smelled like sweat and old rubber. The air still buzzed faintly with leftover adrenaline from the game. Cleats thudded inside the locker room, and the muffled roar of boys yelling and laughing echoed off the concrete walls. Everyone had filtered past her—parents, cheerleaders, players—but she hadn’t moved from her spot by the door.

She stood with her arms crossed, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder, expression unreadable. Her sneakers tapped a restless rhythm against the floor.

The door swung open with a clang.

Tanner stepped out, helmet in hand, hair damp, jersey sticking to his skin. A smear of dried blood sat on the corner of his mouth, and his left knuckle was wrapped in athletic tape.

He stopped short when he saw her.

She raised an eyebrow. “Nice punch.”

He didn’t answer. Just stared at her, unreadable. Most people would’ve flinched by now—stepped aside or mumbled something awkward. But she didn’t move.

She pointed at the cut on his lip. “You gonna ice that or just let it fester like your attitude?”

Tanner narrowed his eyes. “What’re you doing here?”

She shrugged. “Heard you broke someone’s nose. Wanted to see if the rumors were true.”

His voice was low and hoarse. “He ran his mouth.”

“That’s what everyone does around you, though.”

He scoffed and walked past her, but she turned, falling into step beside him.

“Coach looked like he was one bad decision away from pulling you off the team,” she continued.

“I don’t care.”

“You do, Tanner.”

“I don’t.”

She stopped. “Why do you keep doing this?”

He turned. “Doing what?”

“This… thing where you walk around like you don’t care about anything. You shove everyone off and expect them to keep their distance. You think no one notices that you’re barely holding it together out there?”

He tensed. The hallway suddenly felt smaller, like the walls were closing in.

“I’m not your problem,” he muttered.