Breaking the Grid

The best

"Are you serious right now, Joe?" I shout, my voice bouncing off the walls of the hotel hallway. He stands there, smug as ever, unfazed by my anger.

"Calm down, princess. It's just a kiss. You didn't seem to mind earlier," Joe says with a smirk, that condescending tone making my blood boil even more.

I take a step closer, not backing down. "I *did* mind! You didn't ask, you didn't *respect* me. You just did whatever you wanted because you think you can. Well, guess what? You can't."

He just shrugs, brushing it off. "It's for the media. People expect us to play the part. They like seeing us together. You're overreacting."

"Overreacting?" I snap. "You don't get to decide what's right or wrong for *me*. Guys like you always think they can do whatever they want, treat women however they please, and we're just supposed to smile and stay quiet, right? Well, screw that."

I don't wait for his response. I slam the door of his room hard enough to rattle the walls and storm back to mine, my hands trembling with frustration. The audacity of him. As if I owe him anything—my time, my attention, my body. I take a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering anger, but it sticks to me like oil, refusing to leave.

I walk back into my room, shutting the door behind me. It's late, and tomorrow's free practice is hanging over my head. I should be sleeping, resting, preparing. Instead, I feel wired, adrenaline still coursing through me from that confrontation.

I toss my phone onto the bed and stare at it for a second, debating whether to even bother looking at it. With a sigh, I pick it up, unlocking the screen out of habit. I scroll through the usual notifications, nothing that matters, until I see her name—*Kyra*.

My chest tightens as I open the messages. Several unread texts, and not like the ones she's been sending before. The first few ask me to call her back. There's an edge of desperation in them. But then, they shift—becoming sharp, angry.

*"I don't know what your game is, but I'm not playing anymore."* 

*"You're just a player, Blair. I should've known better."* 

*"Don't even try to explain. I don't want to hear it."*

Each message cuts deeper, like a knife twisting in my chest. I stare at the words, feeling the weight of them, and the distance they've created. She's angry—no, she's hurt. And I've done this. I've pushed her away without meaning to, left her hanging while my life spiraled in every other direction.

I feel hollow, like something important has been ripped from me, and now there's just... nothing. I want to explain, but where would I even start? I've been wrapped up in my own world, trying to be everything everyone expects me to be, and now the one person I want to talk to, the one person I can't stop thinking about, thinks I'm playing her.

I glance at the clock. It's barely midnight, but I know sleep isn't coming anytime soon. My mind is racing, and my heart feels heavy in my chest. I can't sit here in this silence, not with everything swirling around inside me. I need to move, to burn off this energy that's building like a storm.

I change into my workout clothes and head for the elevator. The hotel's gym is usually empty this time of night, and that's exactly what I need right now. Solitude. A place to drown out the noise in my head.

The gym is dimly lit when I get there, the hum of the machines the only sound. I start with the treadmill, pushing the speed higher and higher, my legs burning with every step. I run until my lungs feel like they're on fire, but it's not enough. I move to the weights next, throwing myself into sets until my muscles scream for mercy.