𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐓! ʲ ᵇᵘʳʳᵒʷ

010. 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭

"Can you not?" Joe snaps, his voice sharp as a dagger. His eyes are dark with anger- it's so thick its almost palpable. I blink at the hostility, stunned, honestly. "What-" He cuts me off before I can even finish. "You got a lot of nerve, posting that picture this morning." Is he serious?

"Are you serious?" I ask, in disbelief. "A picture? You're mad over a picture?"

"Yeah, a picture. If that and your little stunt last night hadn't been distracting me, maybe we would've won. What part of focus on the game didn't you get?" My face flushes in embarrassment. He's blaming me? This is actually ridiculous.

"Distracting you? Distracting you? Maybe you should look in the mirror before trying to pin the blame on someone else, Joe," I say angrily, my fists clenched by my sides. There's a flash in his eyes, and suddenly he's inches from me. His chest heaves with every breath, and his voice is low. "I'm not pinning the blame on anyone."

"No, no, but you are!" I say loudly as the team floods into the hall, watching the spectacle.

"Maybe if you would've focused on the game, we wouldn't be sitting here, looking like idiots after losing," his voice cracks at the end, and I really feel bad now. Tee steps in, sensing that this is more than just the loss.

"Yo, don't snap at her like that, man. It ain't just her fault- we all lost." Joe ignores his teammate, his eyes glued to me. "You're the reason I've been so distracted lately. You and your constant presence. You're everywhere, all the time." His voice is raw and loud, and I don't know what to say or do.

"Maybe, just maybe, this is your fucking fault, Joe, and you just can't accept that."

He flinches, backing up from me. My eyes soften- was that too harsh?

The air between us is heavy and no one breathes. I tighten the script of questions in my hands, ready to leave. "I'm done. I'm done letting you paint me out to be the bad guy and hurt me because you can't handle whatever you have going on."

I spin on my heel, my cheeks flaming with embarrassment. How did everything go south, so fast? I swear, we were just fine and now we're... not. Any chance of mending things with Joe went out the window, alongside any ounce of liking we had for one another.

I keep it professional during post-game interviews, making sure I didn't have to talk to Joe. I'd rather be locked in a room with Andrei for a week. The ride back is silent, and when we sit down for dinner, I'm agitated.

The pity glances make my eye twitch. The atmosphere is thick with remaining tension from after the game. Ja'Marr is trying to keep the conversation going, but it's hard to focus on anything other than the way Joe stabs his salad too aggressively and how I set my drink down on the table a little too hard.

"I can't believe we lost," Tanner sighs, twisting his fork around in his pasta. Tee bites into his breadstick, chewing before saying, "But that's on all of us, not just one person. Right?"

He gives Joe a pointed look. The receiving end of the conversation lets his fork clatter against the bowl. I flinch at the sudden noise, glaring at him through my eyelashes. Shayla rubs my arm, silently letting me know to keep my cool and to not let him bother me. "Well maybe if some people weren't always getting in my way."

I let my own fork fall, pulling my head up to look directly at him. "I'm sorry, Joe, is there something you're trying to say? Because if there is, please do. I would hate to have to, I don't know, read between the lines, or anything."

He isn't looking at me, but I can feel the sting of his accusation. "Okay, seriously dude?" Tee asks, his voice sharp. "You're still on her?"

"Yeah, I am, Tee. Because if she didn't need constant validation or attention, maybe I could focus. But no, everything always has to be about her." My face stings with anger and hurt. I didn't know he could ever be so hateful.

"You've got some nerve," my voice cracks at my pathetic response. Joe scoffs, continuing on. "You're everywhere, all the time, making everything about you. It's exhausting. I can't even concentrate because you're always lurking." I let my watery eyes drop to my plate, desperate to not let anyone see how he's affecting me. I'm embarrassed. I'm hurt.

"Don't talk to her like that," Sam demands, voice sharp. Sam, who hated me, is coming to my defense, and Joe, once my savior, is the one trying to hurt me.

"I'm just saying, she's a distraction, and she's a problem. It's like I can't get away from her! You can all keep defending her, but you know she's a damn headache." I slam my hands against the table. Joe freezes, his eyes finally meeting mine. I clench my jaw, feeling the tears finally fall over and down my cheeks. I stand up, throwing the chair back. "Lua," Tee calls, but it's no use. I turn on my heel, walking out of the restaurant and to the elevators. If that's how Joe really feels, I'm glad to finally know.

The elevator hums as it brings me back up to the 3rd floor. I rush down the hallway, eager to get into my room and be alone. I lock the door behind me, pulling the covers over my head. The sting of is words cut deeper than I'd like to admit. The betrayal just feels too overwhelming- we were just okay, I don't understand. He was mad that I was getting along with everyone, and suddenly, since he lost, it's my fault?

I pull out my phone, scrolling through my contacts. When I finally find the one I'm looking for, my heart beats loudly in my ears. I click on it before I can change my mind, pressing the device to my ear. It trills for a little while, and I almost hang up, but a familiar voice answers. "Hello?"

"Mom?"

I stayed on the phone with my mom the entire time until I got on the plane. I told her everything- from Nick to Joe's blow up. She listened to everything, and told me to just keep putting myself first, and to come home as soon as possible.

The plane ride was spent trying to sleep. Shayla's shoulder served as a pillow as she read her book. We all seemed a little exhausted after the big loss and the rough weekend. She offered silent support- staying close, offering her presence as a shield. We only leave each other's side when we arrive home- I go straight to my room, taking off the clothes from the game and climbing into pajamas. I rot away in my bed until work.

Joe's words echo in my head as I get ready for work. I was on autopilot- following the motions, without a single thought in my head. I climbed into my own car (Shayla picked up for me) and drove to the complex without even blinking. At the office, everyone was on eggshells around me. The usual banter was gone, replaced with awkward glances and uncomfortable silence. Tee is at my desk when I walk in, a tight smile.

"You okay?" I put my stuff down, running a hand through my hair. "Yeah, just tired." I see some guys hanging in the hallway. They avoid eye contact, sharing whispers. I sigh, sliding behind my computer. "Is there anything else, Tee?" He hangs his head, scraping his fingernail across the desk. "...No." I don't look at him- I log into my account, pulling up profiles and files of video footage. "Then can you close the door behind you?" He says nothing, complying. I lean over to dig through my purse, pulling my earbuds out and putting them in my ears. I click shuffle on my playlist- I have to have something to drown out the noise.

I work relentlessly until it's time to go home. The night drags by, and I'm suddenly at work again. I sigh as I walk into my office, flipping the light on. There's a pile of clothes on my desk, with a bottle of orange juice on top. I furrow my eyebrows, setting my bag down. I move the juice, picking up the shirt. It's the one I wore when I ran into Joe. He seems to have gotten the blood stain out of it. It's been ironed and smells like detergent. It's a simple gesture, but it makes me feel the tiniest bit better. Maybe he doesn't fully hate me.

By the middle of the week, I've accumulated more orange juice than I need and too many candy bars. I've also noticed that Joe doesn't linger, but he's never fully gone. A few seats next to me in meetings, an occasional glance here and there. On Thursday, things are starting to lighten up. The atmosphere is softer, and the whispers aren't directed at me anymore. I'm fixing coffee when my phone dings with a text from Marren- seen the flowers at your desk yet?

Without trying to seem too eager, I take my coffee and retreat back to my office. I close the door behind me, feeling like it's a big secret I have to keep. I look at the colorful array of tulips in awe, setting the cup down. There's no note, but I know who it's from already. I sit down, taking the vase in my hands. The flowers are soft and bright. I breathe in the sensation of Joe's strange, quiet apology.