Ezekiel's POV
Wednesday morning arrived with the same brutal routine that had plagued me for days. My eyes snapped open hours before the alarm, fixed on the ceiling like it might reveal some hidden truth I desperately needed.
Sleep had become a stranger. Every time I closed my eyes, Tuesday's conversation with Ximena replayed in my mind. We had actually talked, really communicated for the first time since that disastrous game night. Nothing was resolved, not completely, but something had shifted between us. Something I couldn't ignore anymore.
The problem was it didn't feel like an ending. It felt like the start of something I had already destroyed.
I dragged myself out of bed earlier than necessary, letting the sharp morning cold slap some sense into me as I headed to my truck. Anton and I used to drive to school together every single day. That routine had defined our friendship for years.
