Page 78 of Campus Heat

“Just forget it,” he said, turning away.

“Ethan—”

“I’m done trying to convince people of things they don’t want to hear.”

His tone was bitter, and that startled me. He had never spoken to me in such a way, and it crushed me. I reached out to touch his hand, but he pulled away, which hurt even more.

“You chose Harris over me. We have nothing more to say to each other.”

“I’m not—”

His expression hardened as he adjusted his jacket.

“Enjoy the rest of your fundraiser,” he said before storming off.

29

Ethan

The locker room was alive with the usual pre-practice chaos. There were lockers slamming shut, cleats scraping against the concrete floor, and someone was blasting music too loudly from a phone speaker. The air smelled like damp earth and laundry detergent. The familiar scent of a season dragging itself forward, whether we were ready for it or not.

I sat on the bench in front of my locker with my elbows resting on my knees and my eyes taking in the scuffed floor beneath my shoes. I hadn’t slept much, and it showed, but there wasn’t much I could do to get my mind to rest.

The fundraiser replayed in my mind, Elizabeth’s words coming back over and over again. And then there was the devastated look she had on her face when I walked away from her. The way her voice cracked between frustration and disbelief as I told her my side of the story, and the silence that followed when she stood there, lingering on that balcony all on her own.

Underneath all her concern and confusion, I could see that she was having the same thought that had been plaguing me for weeks. This place wasn’t working. I ran a hand through my hair and got up before I could talk myself out of it.

“Hey,” I said.

My voice wasn’t loud, but it carried enough weight to cut through the noise. A few of the guys glanced up, giving me their full attention.

Cam leaned against his locker, raising an eyebrow. “Are you planning on giving a speech or something?”

I ignored his tone because if I didn’t, it would lead to a fight. “I just need to say something.”

The room quietened slightly as the conversations faded into curious murmurs. Dylan looked up from taping his wrist, and Malik stopped his discussion mid-sentence.

I swallowed once. “I’m thinking about transferring.”

The locker room fell silent. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at me.

“You’re kidding, right?” Cam slowly straightened himself out.

“Nah,” I ran my hand over my face nervously. “I’m not kidding.”

“But you mean like after the season is over?” Malik asked.

I shook my head. “No, I was thinking about doing it before then.”

Their reactions were immediate. There were murmurs of disbelief, and someone cursed quietly under their breath.

Dylan stood up. “Are you really being serious right now, man? Don’t mess with us like this.”

“I’m serious, dude.”

“You’re just… leaving us? No notice or explanation or anything like that?”

“I’m here right now trying to be honest with you guys,” I said defensively. “I didn’t want you to find out about it through rumors.”