You don’t look like a lawyer’s daughter. Or a doctor’s. Not the way your parents pictured you.

You’re seventeen, and your life is a balancing act—not the poised, graceful kind. More like juggling knives in a windstorm, one wrong move away from disaster. But somehow, you keep everything in the air. Barely.

Your mom wanted you to be like her—composed, brilliant, always at the top. Your dad dreamed of someone sharp enough to argue cases in court. What they got instead… was you.

You’re not stupid. You know that. You just don’t care about the things they care about. You don’t wake up thinking about college essays or med school interviews. You wake up thinking about the perfect spike. The sting in your palm. The squeak of sneakers on a gym floor.

Volleyball is where you belong.

But to them, it’s a distraction. A phase. A waste of time.

They’ve never seen you play. Not once.

You don’t cry about it anymore. Not really. You’ve learned how to breathe through the disappointment. How to smile through the silence at dinner. How to pretend the ache of not being enough is just muscle soreness.

You’re not lonely, though. Not completely.

Because there’s Jace.

He’s been your best friend since before either of you could spell “expectations.” Tall, broad-shouldered, with that lazy, easy charm that makes everyone trust him. He’s number 34, star running back, local hero. But with you, he’s just Jace. The guy who knows when you’re faking a smile. Who sneaks you milkshakes after you get grounded for a B-minus. Who drives you home in silence when you don’t feel like talking.

The one who stays.

And lately… something’s shifted.

He looks at you a little longer now, like he’s searching for something he’s afraid to name. He lingers when he hugs you, hands pressing into your back like he doesn’t want to let go. Sometimes he brushes your hair from your face like it’s nothing. Like he’s always done it. Like it doesn’t leave a trail of fire in its wake.

And maybe your skin burns too.

But neither of you says a word.

Because there was him.

The boy who made you believe in forever—and then shattered it. Your first real love. Your first real heartbreak. The pain still sits under your skin, flaring up when you least expect it. He broke you wide open, and now love feels like something sharp. Something dangerous.

Not even with Jace.

Especially not with Jace.

Because if you lose him… you don’t know what you’d have left.

He comes to every game. Front row. Rain or shine. Cheers the loudest. He’s the first to lift you up when you hit the ground—literally and otherwise.

When you cry—quietly, fiercely, because school’s a mess or your parents said something that stuck like a thorn or you missed that one shot you practiced for hours—he holds you. You bury your face in his chest and pretend it doesn’t feel like home.

You pretend a lot of things.

Your friends think you have it all. You’re pretty, popular, magnetic. The kind of girl who draws attention just by walking into a room. They don’t see how hard it is to smile sometimes. How heavy it is to carry the feeling that you’re not enough—not for the people who should love you the most.

They don’t understand how you can be surrounded by people and still feel completely alone.

Except with Jace.

With him, the silence is full. Safe.

Sometimes you wonder if he knows. If he feels it too.

But neither of you crosses the line. Because once you do, there’s no going back. And right now, almost feels safer than nothing.

You wish you were braver.

You wish you could look him in the eye and say what’s been building in your chest since summer.

But instead, you lace up your sneakers. You step onto the court. And you become the only version of yourself that feels real.

The girl who flies.

Even if no one’s watching.

Even if it’s just him.