If Only (GxG)

Chapter 22 Oh

A/N
🎶 Brown Eyes Girl by Van Morrison🎶

『 °*• ❀ •*°』
Alison's POV

The rhythmic slap of my running shoes against the polished track was the only sound filling my ears, steady and grounding, syncing with the beat of my heart.

The air in the gym was crisp, clean, tinged with the faint scent of rubber and old wood polish.

Outside the massive windows lining the far wall, the dark winter morning stretched endlessly, a deep indigo canvas speckled with the first hints of dawn.

The sky felt heavy, the clouds thick with the promise of rain, but in here, in this moment, everything was quiet. Still.

I needed that.

My brain had been overloaded with study notes and deadlines, equations and anatomical terms swimming behind my eyes from the hours I had spent poring over textbooks last night. Running helped.

It soothed the chaos, each stride burning away the tension, replacing it with something calmer. More manageable.

I exhaled slowly, watching my breath fog slightly in the cool gym air. The track wasn't packed yet—only a handful of other students were up this early, most of them too focused on their own workouts to notice me.

Good.

I needed space to think.

Ross had been on my mind a lot lately.

I knew he was happy with his new girlfriend—really happy—and that made me happy for him. He deserved good things. But I couldn't shake the nagging worry that his ex, the one who had spent months stringing him along, might still be trying to worm her way back into his life.

She had a habit of doing that.

I hoped he would tell me if she had reached out.

I hoped he wouldn't keep it to himself.

My hands curled into fists briefly before I shook them out, forcing myself to focus on my breathing.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Let it go.

There was nothing I could do right now except trust that Ross knew better. That he wouldn't let her ruin what he had now.

Still, I made a mental note to check in with him later.

I rounded the bend, my pace steady, my body loosening with each lap. The movement helped. The routine helped.

My mind drifted to Amy.

She had been stressed about math lately. The pressure of exams, of needing top scores for her university application, was starting to weigh on her.

She wanted to be a physiotherapist, had been talking about it since we were kids, and I knew how competitive the program was. Only a handful of spots, and Amy was determined to claim one of them.

I admired her focus, her drive, but I also worried about her.

She was pushing herself hard—too hard.

I made another mental note—coffee after school. A study session. A distraction.

The first trickles of pink and gold had begun to bleed into the sky outside, streaking the clouds with color.

I slowed my pace, my heart pounding, my muscles warm, loose.

Sunday had been spent in bed with Blake.

That thought alone sent a different kind of warmth spreading through me, soft and slow, curling in my stomach like a secret.

I hadn't meant to waste the entire day tangled up in her sheets, in her arms, but God—