Page 11 of No Going Back

I’m sandwiched between Remy on my right and Matteo on my left, the rest of the guys sprawled along the same row. Back row is our territory; no one bugs us up here.

It’s been a weird few days. The whole team can feel it, like static in the air. Remy’s off, not just quiet… off. He’s slouched even lower than me right now, hoodie pulled up, staring at nothing while the pen in his hand spins slow circles on the desk. Matteo nudged me ten minutes ago and whispered, “Is he okay?” I just shrugged because honestly, I don’t know anymore.

Saturday morning set the tone. When he walked out wearing my black tee, I froze for a second. He didn’t even realise it was mine until I pointed it out. And then… he didn’t change, he wore it all day. We’ve got the same build, so it looked like it could’ve been his, but I knew. And fuck, some stupid part of me liked seeing him in it, liked it way more than I should’ve. That’s why I tested him, dropped those lines about Hannah’s “whiny sex noises” and the party hookup, watching for cracks. I hoped after we fucked, we could just snap back to normal, joke about it and move on. But now I’m starting to think there really is no going back.

He’s barely spoken when it’s just us in the dorm. At practice he’s mechanical, runs routes, catches balls, but the usual cocky grin, the trash talk, and the way he’d usually strut like he owns the field… gone. When you look at his face it’s like he’s stuck in a loop, eyes narrowed, lost in whatever war he’s fighting in his head.

Hannah’s back in a couple days and he hasn’t talked to her once. Not a call, not even replying to her texts. She rang me yesterday, worried. “Is he okay? He’s ghosting me.” I fed her the “he’s ill” excuse, then she asked if she could crash at ours for a few nights. I wanted to say no, badly. The thought of hearing them… her moans, the bed creaking, him inside her… twisted something ugly in my gut. I’ve never felt that before, never cared. But I forced a laugh and said yeah, of course, because saying no would’ve raised every red flag. So now we’re both apparently thrilled about her return. Sure.

I don’t even know if he’s sleeping. Nights are quiet except for the pacing I hear behind his closed door, low muttering like he’s arguing with himself. Last night I swear I shut my door all the way, but this morning it was cracked open, just enough to notice. Had he been standing there watching me sleep? No, that’s insane; I haven’t brought it up. How do you even ask that without sounding paranoid? Hey man, you been creeping on me at night?

Tyler, on Remy’s other side, leans over and nudges him. “Dude, you look pale. Maybe you should go rest or something?”

Remy runs both hands down his face and lets out a nervous laugh that doesn’t sound like him at all. “No… no, I’m fine, bro. Don’t worry about me.”

Tyler flicks his eyes to me, eyebrows raised. I frown back. Yeah, something’s wrong. I’m pretty sure it’s us… the sex. He said it was just release, no feelings, no big deal. But if he’s this torn up, maybe it hit him harder than he expected. Maybe he’s freaking out about cheating on Hannah, even though he swore it didn’t count. Or maybe… maybe it’s more than guilt.

I laugh it off casually, loud enough for the row to hear. “He’s fine, guys.”

Then I wrap my arm around his shoulders, loose and friendly like we do all the time. Remy doesn’t tense. He sighs, deep and shaky, and leans into me. His head drops against my collarbone, hair brushing my neck, warm breath ghosting. My eyes go wide. Tyler’s frown deepens, confused as hell. He mouths over Remy’s head: What’s wrong with him?

I shrug, but I don’t move my arm. Clearly, it’s helping him, even if this is weird as fuck. Two big jocks casually hugging in the middle of a lecture hall? People would talk if they noticed. But right now, I don’t care. His weight against me feels grounding, familiar… and terrifying.

I fiddle with a pen on the desk with my free hand, spinning it fast to give myself something to do. Remy’s hair tickles my neck again. I inhale it without meaning to, his shampoo, his skin, the faint sweat from morning practice… and my stomach flips.

Fuck. What is going on in his head?

◆◆◆

The professor finally wraps up, clicking through the last slide on progressive overload and tendon rehab before reminding us about the mini-assignment due Friday. “Don’t leave it until the last minute. It counts toward your final grade.”

I’ve already finished mine; I like getting shit done early so I don’t have to think about it. Remy, though… I’m not so sure. He hasn’t mentioned it once, and these things add up; I’ll talk to him about it later.

“Have a good day, everyone,” the prof says, and the room erupts into the usual shuffle… bags zipping, chairs scraping, a hundred students packing up and heading for the exits.

I nudge Remy’s shoulder where he’s still resting against me. “Come on, man. Time to go.”

He doesn’t move.

I glance up at Tyler. “Dude, is he awake?”

Tyler snorts. “Nope, sound out.”

I sigh and shake Remy’s shoulder a little harder, sitting him upright. “Remy.”

He blinks slowly, bleary-eyed, like he’s surfacing from underwater. “Huh?”

I laugh despite myself. “Lecture’s finished, man. Let’s go.”

“Yeah… sorry.” He rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands and stands.

He wobbles, barely noticeable, but I catch it, and steady him at the shoulders without thinking. He reaches up, pats my hands once like thanks, then lets go. I grab my bag and follow the guys out, keeping half an eye on him.

In the hallway, Matteo falls into step beside me. “You still coming to Jeb’s party this Saturday?”

“Yeah, of course. Should be fun.”

“What about Remy?”