The Chance

10 || Forced Agreement

Daddy Issues - The Neighborhood

𓆩♡𓆪
Alexander

I don't know what is wrong with our fire alarm but the thing won't stop beeping.

I can hear the noise carry down the hall, through the cracks of the door, and into my ears at the break of dawn. I've tried ignoring it but there's only so hard I can squeeze a pillow against my ears to drown it out.

I roll over to the side of my bed, dreading the next few moments where I have to stumble out of my sheets and throw on cold clothes from my closet.

It's currently 7:20 in the morning and I have to be down at the arena in half an hour for a ruthless 8:30 am practice.

I love having this bed all to myself. There are some days where I don't want to get out of it at the ass crack of dawn and today happens to be one of those days.

I grab my bag by the door and stroll into the kitchen where the only other responsible housemate I have stands. "Miller," I nod at him.

"Grant," Jordan nods back. "Coffee's in the pot, Matt and Aiden are fighting in the bathroom." The morning roundup makes me laugh.

"Lucky you for getting up early." I pour myself a to-go cup and snap a lid on top.

"This ala–" A beep above interrupts him. "This alarm kept me up all night." I laugh at the shared troubles we both faced overnight. "Don't worry about the two upstairs, they probably slept like rocks."

"Well those two rocks are gonna make us late." I announce. "We gotta go."

I've already poured the sleep-aholics a cup of coffee to wake up and I'm sitting in the car a few minutes later. I lean my elbow out the window and as Matt waltzes out the door I can hear the irritating beep from the kitchen follow.

• • • • •

There must be something in the air today.

Not only did Matt not talk my ear off while walking into the arena, but when we passed a student on a pair of crutches my mind slipped back to the moment I barged out of a hospital room.

That was only two weeks ago and yet she still finds her way into my brain despite her not being here.

Her indirect way of finding a path into my thoughts confuses me. I still remember the look on her face when I walked out.

I won't deny that I don't care, I just don't know why I seem to care so much.

She placed her problems on my friends' shoulders and not taking responsibility for her own actions will always rub me the wrong way.

But there's this irritating voice in my head that keeps ringing and ringing, telling me I was too harsh, telling me I should apologize.

But that won't happen because I refuse to contact her. Even if I tried to, she probably wouldn't pick up the phone, or the text message I would send would turn green the second I click the arrow.

I don't even know why I'm thinking of trying any of that. It's been two weeks since she got hurt and two weeks since I last saw her.

I can only assume I'll see her a handful of times for the rest of the year and she definitely won't go out of her way to say hello.

I realize how much I'm thinking of her when I stop myself at the boards. I'm only able to think this much because practice is dead silent.

Coach is usually running his mouth from minute one.