Page 40 of Offside Angle

I shift in my seat, trying to keep my expression neutral. “Yeah, well… that was a long time ago,” I mutter, hoping my dad will take the hint and move on.

He doesn’t.

“Oh! And remember when you two snuck out that one night to go watch the sunrise? Your mother almost had a heart attack when she realized you weren’t in bed,” my dad laughs, slapping the table lightly. “We thought you ran away together or something. Turns out you went out to take pictures and play hockey at dawn because apparently sleeping was optional.”

I can feel my ears burning.

I glance at Lena. She’s smiling, but there’s a curious tilt to her head now as she starts connecting pieces of a history she clearly hadn’t realized ran this deep.

“So, if you two were such good friends…” she starts, “how come you guys lost touch?”

My dad pauses mid-bite, his eyebrows pulling together as he searches his memory. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, clearly unable to remember when exactly Santi and I stopped being part of each other’s lives.

But the rest of us — me, Santi, and my mom — we all know exactly why.

The silence stretches for a beat too long.

“Life got in the way,” I finally say, keeping my voice as casual as I can manage.

Santi lets out a short, sharp snort from across the table. He doesn’t even try to hide how little he thinks of that answer. “Sure,” he says, the single word dripping with disbelief.

“Excuse me,” I say, pushing my chair back and standing up. “I have a game tomorrow. Enjoy the rest of dinner.”

I don’t wait for anyone to respond. I turn and head toward my bedroom, needing to get away from the table, from the questions, from the way Santi is looking at me like he’s waiting for me to finally say something real.

Just as I reach the hallway, I hear his voice behind me. “Matteo.”

The sound of my name in his mouth makes me stop for half a second. My shoulders tense. Part of me wants to turn around. Part of me wants to keep walking.

I keep walking.

I can’t deal with this shit right now.

Not with my parents here. Not with Lena sitting at the table. Not when I have another game tomorrow and my head is already a mess.

I push open my bedroom door, step inside, and close it behind me, letting out a slow breath as I lean back against the wood.

A few minutes later, there’s a soft knock on my bedroom door.

I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, staring at the floor when Lena slips inside and closes the door behind her. “Baby…” she says gently, her voice careful. “What’s going on?”

I force a smile that probably looks as fake as it feels. “Nothing, pretty girl… I’m just tired.”

She doesn’t buy it for a second. I can tell by the way she tilts her head and crosses her arms, watching me with that quiet, patient look she gets when she knows I’m bullshitting her.

I am tired. But we both know that’s not why I walked away from the table.

Lena walks over and sits down beside me on the bed. For a moment, she doesn’t push. She just sits there with me in the quiet.

Then she sighs softly. “He doesn’t look at you like some old friend…” she says.

“Lena—”

“And neither do you,” she finishes.

I turn my head slowly and stare at her.

The words hang in the air between us. I don’t know what to say. My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. My heart is suddenly beating way too fast, and a guilty little jolt goes through me even though I haven’t actually done anything wrong.