Chapter 31 TYLER
I didn’t do worry. Not about anyone. Not since my injury. But when I got into my car yesterday and tried to follow Harper—only to realize she was just gone? Yeah, that messed with my head.
If something happened to her, it would be on me. Everyone knew she’d been last seen with me, and that thought made it almost impossible to sleep.
I was up before dawn, heading to school just to make sure she showed up.
The halls were still mostly empty when I arrived—just my teammates, forced into an early call by Coach, and a few scattered students from other grades were around.
I ignored all of them and went straight for my seat at the back to wait for her.
“Yo, Cap!” Jax called out. “You seen the school news? You’re trending again.”
I frowned. “What news?”
The team exchanged looks like they thought I was joking. Peter hopped off the desk he’d been sitting on, holding his phone out.
“You going off on Racquel yesterday. It’s like… news of the year.”
I glanced at the screen, then back at him.
“I don’t get the hype. It’s not like you guys haven’t heard me yell before.”
“Yeah,” he said, planting himself on top of my desk. “But you yelled at your ex… for messing with your ‘therapist.’”
I raised a brow at his air quotes, still not seeing the big deal. “So?”
The boys all murmured in disbelief. Jax pushed through the circle, his broad frame making space whether people offered it or not. Peter scooted down the table to make room on the other end.
“You’ve been a cold recluse since the opening game,” Jax said. “The only time you’ve shown emotion is for your therapist. People notice that.”
“Like, dude, Racquel is hot,” Kane added, stepping over chairs to join the crowd. The rest of the boys followed, closing in like they were staging an intervention.
“Everyone thought Racquel still had you wrapped around her finger,” Kane continued. “Most girls don’t shoot their shot because they think you’ll go back to her. But then you basically announced that you don’t give a shit about her—at least not where your ‘therapist’ is concerned.”
“Exactly,” Peter cut in. “Now the whole school thinks something’s going on between you and your ‘therapist.’”
“That something is called therapy,” I snapped.
“Lies!” Billy’s voice piped up from behind the wall of bodies. The others shuffled so he could see since he was the shortest among the team.
Jax snorted. “Bro learned the hard way.”
The team erupted in laughter, throwing jabs at Billy.
“In my defense,” Billy protested, “I didn’t know she was your girl. I was just trying to flirt a little.”
“She’s not,” I said sharply. “I did what anyone with proper home training would.”
The laughter morphed into a few throat clears, some of the boys developing sudden fascinations with shoelaces, hair, and phone screens. Only Mark nodded—quiet, calm Mark, who barely made a comment in group conversations.
“Yeah,” he said. “Flirting doesn’t require contact. You could've gotten sued for that, Billy.”
“Okay, okay,” Peter groaned, ready to move on. He leaned forward toward me. “So… are you two dating? Or, like… you know.”
The boys all stared, waiting—like my answer determined the fate of the universe.
For some reason, I got irritated at the question, knowing the only reason they were asking was because some of them already had a thing for Harper. And it’s not like I cared, but I couldn’t stand the thought of having to watch her hang around any of these testosterone-fueled boys who would easily chase the next best thing in a skirt.
I kept my face plain, careful not to show my thoughts, but my stare was deadly enough to warn them I meant every word that came next.
“We’re not dating, and we’re not fucking either. But if any of you so much as bat an eye at her just for the fun of it, then consider me your next terror.”
No one blinked. Each stayed rooted to their spots as they let my words sink in.
“And for the record, she’s no longer my therapist, so one more fucking air quote from either of you—”
My eyes snapped toward the door just as the familiar scent of her perfume filtered into my nose. She was here—she was safe.
“Kill this fucking topic,” I said with finality, rising to my feet to intercept her at the door. “Where did you dissappear to yesterday?”
She rolled her eyes, brushing past me, thumbs hooked into her backpack straps. “I don't see how that is any of your business.”
“Do you know how much trouble you could have gotten me into?”
“Does it look like I care?”
Her eyes drooped—that low, sultry indifference, like this whole conversation was a nuisance she couldn't be bothered with. She didn't seem like her usual self, and I couldn’t help but ask.
“Did something happen?”
“Nothing that concerns you. You’re literally a stranger to me, so why are you suddenly all up in my business?”
Her words stung, but I kept my face still, aware the boys were trying to eavesdrop.
I bent slightly, lowering my voice to a whisper. “I don’t know what’s going on with you this morning, but your belongings are still in my car.”
“I’ll get them after the session. That shouldn’t be a problem.”
I straightened, jaw tightening. “What session? You walked away, didn’t you?”
She ignored me completely, pulling out a notebook and scribbling like I wasn’t even standing there.
“See you after classes, Tyler. And it’ll be best for both of us if you don’t keep me waiting.”
The tone. The dismissal. The ice.
This wasn’t Harper.
I had no idea how she'd vanished so fast yesterday or what had snapped inside her between then and now—but whatever mask she’d put on, it fit too well. And I hated it.