Chapter 10 Girlfriend
Third person POV
\---
Nadia Brooks noticed the change on a Wednesday.
Not because of anything dramatic. Not beocause Noah said the wrong thing or missed a call or smelled like someone else’s perfume.
It was subtler than that.
He smiled too much.
They sat together at a small café just off campus, one of their usual places—the kind that prided itself on being quiet, clean, respectable. Noah had suggested it instead of the louder diner they usually went to, and that alone had made her pause. He was a creature of routine. When he changed his habits, it meant something had unsettled him.
“You okay?” she asked, stirring her tea slowly.
“I’m great,” he replied immediately. Too quickly. “Just busy. Practice is intense right now.”
He reached across the table and squeezed her hand, holding it longer than usual, thumb rubbing small circles into her skin like he was grounding himself.
Nadia smiled back, but something in her chest tightened.
Noah Carter had always been affectionate—but this was different. This was performance.
She didn’t pull her hand away. Instead, she studied him quietly. The tension in his shoulders. The faint shadows under his eyes. The way his gaze flicked to the window every few seconds, like he was checking to see who might walk past.
He looked… guarded.
“You’ve been distant,” she said carefully. Not accusing. Just honest.
He frowned, immediately defensive. “I have not.”
That was answer number two that came too fast.
She leaned back slightly, releasing his hand. “You have. Just a little.”
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “I’m just under pressure. Captain stuff. You know how it is.”
She did know. She’d been with him long enough to understand the demands of his role—the way expectations pressed into him from all sides. But she also knew the difference between stress and avoidance.
And this felt like avoidance.
“I heard about the party last weekend,” she said lightly, watching his face.
The reaction was instant.
His jaw tightened. His eyes flicked away.
“Yeah?” he said, casual to the point of stiffness. “What about it?”
“Nothing,” she replied. “Just that it sounded wild.”
He laughed—a sharp, humorless sound. “Yeah. College parties usually are.”
She nodded slowly. “Did you have fun?”
The pause was barely noticeable.
“Sure,” he said. “Nothing special.”
Nadia didn’t push.
She didn’t need to.
\---
Later that day, she saw him.
She hadn’t meant to.
She was walking across the quad when the shift happened—the subtle ripple in the crowd, the way attention curved around a single point like gravity.
A boy stood near the fountain.
No. Not boy.
Young man.
Feminine in a way that was unapologetic, deliberate. He wore a deep blue skirt that moved fluidly with his steps, a fitted jacket cinched at the waist, boots polished and confident. His posture was relaxed, his expression calm, as if the stares didn’t exist—or didn’t matter.
People watched him openly.
Some with curiosity. Some with admiration. Some with thinly veiled judgment.
Nadia slowed without realizing it.
There was something striking about him—not just the way he dressed, but the way he occupied space. Like he had decided long ago that the world would either accept him or choke on the effort of rejecting him.
She followed his gaze instinctively.
And that was when she saw Noah.
He stood near the library steps, mid-conversation with a teammate, body rigid, attention fractured. His eyes were locked on the boy by the fountain, hunger and panic tangled in a way Nadia had never seen before.
It lasted less than a second.
Then Noah blinked, turned away, and laughed too loudly at something his teammate said.
But it was enough.
Nadia’s stomach dropped.
She didn’t know who the boy was.
She didn’t need to.
\---
That night, Noah overcompensated.
He showed up at her dorm with flowers—cheap ones from the campus shop, still wrapped in plastic. He kissed her longer than usual, hands warm and familiar, mouth moving with practiced affection.
“Missed you,” he said.
She kissed him back.
But her mind was already elsewhere.
They watched a movie. He kept his arm around her the entire time, fingers laced through hers like a declaration. When she laughed, he laughed too, even when the joke wasn’t funny.
It felt like he was trying to convince an audience.
Or himself.
When the movie ended, she turned to him. “You’re being weird.”
He stiffened. “What?”
“You’re trying too hard.”
He frowned, pulling back slightly. “I’m just… being a good boyfriend.”
She studied his face, searching for something familiar beneath the strain. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” he said immediately. “God, no. This isn’t about you.”
There it was.
She swallowed. “Then what is it about?”
He didn’t answer.
Silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable.
Finally, he stood abruptly. “I should go. Early practice.”
She nodded, masking the disappointment that crept in. “Okay.”
At the door, he hesitated. Turned back. “Nadia?”
“Yes?”
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Then smiled tightly. “Nothing. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
After he left, she sat on her bed for a long time, staring at the closed door.
And thinking about the boy in the skirt.
\---
By Friday, the whispers started.
Not loud ones. Not accusations.
Just murmurs.
“He’s everywhere lately.”
“Do you know his name?”
“I think he’s in Econ.”
“Have you seen what he wears?”
Nadia heard them in passing—snippets of conversation she wasn’t meant to catch. And every time, her pulse spiked.
She didn’t ask Noah.
Instead, she watched him.
The way his attention drifted in public spaces. The way his posture stiffened when someone laughed nearby. The way his eyes tracked movement even when he pretended not to.
At lunch, she followed his gaze again.
The boy sat across the courtyard, legs crossed elegantly, sunlight catching the edge of his skirt. He was laughing with someone, head tilted back, unguarded and radiant.
Noah’s grip tightened around his fork.
Nadia felt something cold settle in her chest.
She leaned closer to him. “Do you know him?”
Noah froze.
“Know who?” he asked, voice flat.
She nodded subtly toward the courtyard.
His shoulders tensed. “No.”
The lie was immediate.
Clean.
Practiced.
She sat back slowly, heart pounding. “You sure?”
“Yes,” he snapped.
Then, softer, “I mean—no. I don’t.”
She didn’t argue.
But she didn’t believe him.
\---
That night, alone in her room, Nadia finally admitted the truth to herself.
Something had happened.
Something he wasn’t telling her.
It might not have been physical. It might not even be ongoing. But it was there—a presence, a disruption, a fracture in the shape of her relationship.
And it had a face.
She didn’t hate the boy in the skirt.
She didn’t blame him.
What unsettled her most was the look on Noah’s face when he thought no one was watching.
That wasn’t guilt.
That was fear.
And fear meant desire had already done its damage.
Nadia lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling, heart heavy with questions she wasn’t ready to ask.
Outside, laughter echoed faintly across campus.
Somewhere nearby, the boy in the skirt walked freely through the world.
And Noah Carter was losing control.