Everything with you

Part 76

Justin

It was past midnight by the time I finally got back to my room. The whole floor was silent except for the hum of the heater and the muffled sound of someone snoring down the hall. Practice had run late again—the new coach had a thing for "conditioning under pressure." Which basically meant running until we forgot our names.

I dropped my duffel by the door, peeled off my hoodie, and flopped onto the bed with a groan. Every muscle in my body ached, but my mind wouldn't rest.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand—a message from Emma.

"Made myself noodles and didn't burn the kitchen this time :)"

I couldn't help but grin, shaking my head. God, I missed her. The smell of her shampoo, the way she wrinkled her nose when she laughed, and the way she always said, "I'm fine," even when she clearly wasn't.

I typed back quickly:

"Proud of you, chef. Progress."

Then I just stared at her contact photo—her in that yellow sundress, laughing into the camera while I tried to get her to stay still long enough for the shot. That was Emma in a nutshell—all motion and light, impossible to pin down.

The call we had earlier kept playing in my head. The way her voice lit up when she talked about switching majors, the certainty in it. She finally sounded sure of herself again. That spark I'd fallen for was back, and hearing it made every mile between us feel worth it.

I leaned back against the wall, phone still in my hand.
She didn't know it, but she was the reason I'd made it through this week in one piece. Every time the coach pushed us harder, every time I thought about quitting early, I thought about her—about the way she fought to heal, to keep going. She had this quiet strength that made mine look small.

A soft knock on the door broke my thoughts. Nate poked his head in, hair wet from the showers.
"You're still up?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said, sitting up. "Couldn't sleep."

He nodded knowingly. "Emma?"

"Yeah."

He tossed me a bottle of water before sitting on the other bed. "She's doing okay?"

"She's better," I said, smiling faintly. "She told her parents she's switching majors. Child studies. Said it's what she really wants."

Nate whistled. "Damn. That's brave. Her mom must've freaked out."

"She did," I said, chuckling. "But Emma held her ground. She's... different now. Stronger."

Nate nodded. "You did good, man."

I frowned. "I didn't do anything."

He leaned forward. "You were there when she needed someone. That's doing something."

For a second, I didn't say anything. Because maybe he was right—maybe being there was the point.

I leaned back my elbows, glancing toward Nate, who was scrolling absently on his phone. "Hey,"  breaking the quiet, "what's the deal with you and Hayley, anyway?"

Nate froze mid-scroll. His eyebrows lifted like he didn't expect that question, then dropped as he sighed and threw the phone onto the nightstand. "Where should I even begin?" he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck before plopping face-first onto his bed.

I frowned. "That bad?"

Nate's voice came muffled through the pillow. "We... hooked up once."

I blinked. "Wait—what?"