Nash watched Saya freeze in front of him, her fake smile cracking at the edges like cheap paint. Same blonde ponytail, same cherry lip balm smell that used to twist his stomach into knots.
Now? Nothing. Just cold air between them.
But the memories were there anyway. The locker room. The way she'd laughed while Roam and the others tore into him, calling him weak, small, worthless, 'babydick'.
His fingers curled into fists at his sides. He had every right to explode, to scream at her to get lost and never show her face again.
Except... he didn't. The anger was there, simmering low in his gut, but it felt distant, like watching a storm through thick glass.
Why am I not losing it? He wondered, almost annoyed at himself. After everything she did, the humiliation, the way she'd left him shattered while she partied with the team, he should be furious.
