Chapter 31 THE RIFT BEGINS
(MICAH POV)
The hallway felt colder the moment I stepped out of the gym, like the air was trying to snap me back to reality after whatever the hell Dante had just done to me on court. My shirt was still clinging to my back, damp with sweat, but none of that explained why my heartbeat was still thundering like he was right behind me. Every time I blinked, I saw his eyes from moments earlier dark, fixed, unblinking watching me like I was something he’d already wrapped a hand around. Something he could tighten his grip on anytime he wanted.
And the worst part was how some stupid part of me liked the way it felt. I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to shake off the electricity buzzing under my skin. Dante didn’t say anything before he left the court; he didn’t have to. He had looked at me in a way that said mine without ever using the word.
My steps slowed as I replayed how close he’d stood during the last drill, how his breath had brushed my cheek when he’d told me to “keep your eyes on me.” It shouldn’t have made my stomach twist like this. It shouldn’t have made me want to look back.
“Micah.” The voice snapped me out of the fog. I turned and saw Max leaning against the wall outside the building, arms crossed, jaw tight. His eyes scanned my face like he was checking for injuries, or maybe for something else I didn’t want him to find. He pushed himself off the wall, walking toward me with a stiffness that made my throat tighten.
“You’re finally done,” Max said, stopping just close enough that I couldn’t pretend I didn’t hear him. “Dante keep you late again?” I swallowed, the heat from practice suddenly flooding my cheeks. “Uh… yeah. I guess. He just....” “Just what?” Max’s voice was too sharp to be casual.
“You’ve been glued to his hip for a week. People are talking, man.” My breath caught. “Talking about what?” Max gave me a look that made my stomach twist. “About how you’re always with him. How he’s always pulling you aside. How he doesn’t let anyone else run drills with you anymore.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “And how you let him.”
My pulse stuttered. “It’s not like that he’s just pushing me harder because I need it. He’s the captain. It’s his job.” “That’s not coaching, Micah,” Max said quietly. “That’s… something else.” My throat closed up because the truth was I didn’t know how to explain what Dante was doing. I didn’t even understand it myself.
I shook my head and took a step back, but Max followed. “Hey,” he said, softer but still firm, “look at me. What is he doing to you?” The question hit too close. Something inside me flinched. I tried to open my mouth, but the words tangled, sticking to my tongue like glue.
“N–nothing,” I finally managed, but the way it cracked ruined the lie completely. Max stared at me, jaw clenching. “I don’t believe you.” Before I could find a reply, something over his shoulder caught my eye. Alison stood across the courtyard, pretending to scroll her phone, but her eyes weren’t on the screen. They were on us. On me.
Her head tilted slowly, like she was adding pieces of a puzzle together and already liked the picture she was seeing. When she noticed me looking, her lips curved into the faintest, sharpest smile I’d ever seen. My stomach dropped. “I have to go,” I blurted, stepping away from both of them. “I... just need a minute.”
“Micah—” Max reached out, but I jerked back before he touched me. “Not now,” I said quickly, because if he grabbed my arm, I wasn’t sure I’d keep it together. “Please.” Max let his hand fall. His shoulders sagged like the defeat physically hurt him. “Fine. But this isn’t over.” I nodded, even though my chest felt too tight to breathe, and hurried past him.
I kept my eyes straight ahead, refusing to look at Alison again. The back of my neck prickled anyway, like she was still staring, still watching, still filing everything away. By the time I reached my dorm, the echo of Dante’s voice had replaced everything else. Eyes on me, Micah. Good. Just like that. Keep shaking only for me.
I sank onto my bed, trying to slow my breathing, but it felt like the whole day had wrapped itself around my ribs and was squeezing tighter every second. Max’s suspicion. Alison’s stare. Dante’s voice echoing in a part of me that I didn’t know how to close off.
Hours later, when I finally drifted into sleep, it wasn’t peaceful. I found myself in the gym or something that looked like it, only darker, stretched, wrong. The lights flickered overhead, shadows crawling across the court like spilled ink. I could hear footsteps behind me, fast and heavy, and I turned to see… nothing. Just darkness swallowing everything behind me.
Then a voice. “Micah.” Dante’s. Low. Deep. Calm in a way that made my knees go weak. My feet moved on their own, turning me toward the sound even as the shadows around me trembled. Dante’s voice pulled at me, warm and soft like a hand sliding along my spine. Every part of me leaned toward it.
But another voice cut through the air like a crack. “Stop! Don’t go there!” Max. He burst through the darkness, sprinting toward me. His hand latched onto my wrist, warm and desperate, trying to yank me backward. “Micah, he’s not helping you. He’s dragging you down. Listen to me.”
But Dante’s voice came again, smoother this time. “Micah. Here.” My body twisted toward the sound helplessly. Max tried to pull harder, but it felt like the world shifted beneath us, tilting. The more Max tugged, the heavier my limbs became, like the ground itself wanted me to stay. Dante’s presence moved somewhere ahead never seen, only felt—like gravity itself was pulling me toward him.
“I’ve got you,” Max said, breathless. “Just look at me. Please. Look at me.” I tried. I really tried. But when I lifted my head, the darkness rippled and Dante’s voice slid around me like smoke. “Good,” he murmured. “Come here.” My knees buckled. My fingers slipped from Max’s grip. His shout echoed, panicked and fading, as the shadows swallowed him whole.
My body fell forward, toward that voice, toward the warmth I couldn’t resist. I reached out And my eyes snapped open. My room was pitch black. My sheets were tangled around my legs. My chest was heaving like I’d sprinted miles.
It took me a moment to realize I was sitting upright, hand outstretched in the dark like I was still reaching for someone. My lips were trembling when a single word slipped out, barely a whisper. “Dante…” The sound of his name in the quiet was a confession I hadn’t meant to make.
Terror flushed through me. But so did something dangerously warm, curling in my stomach in a way I couldn’t name. I pressed the heel of my hand against my forehead, but it didn’t stop the truth from settling deep in my lungs. I was terrified. And I wanted him anyway.