Chapter 28 Chapter 28
Emily's POV
I told myself I wasn’t thinking about him. That last night hadn’t stayed with me, the way his voice dropped when he said my name, didn’t replay in my head more than it should. The moment at the edge of the field, when everything went quiet except for the space between us, didn’t matter.
I told myself all of that. And then I walked into the campus cafe and realized I was lying, not in a way that unraveled me, just in small, inconvenient ways that made everything feel slightly off.
The cafe was busy, the midday rush, students packed into tables with laptops and coffee cups, the low hum of conversation blending into something constant and alive. It smelled like espresso and sugar, like burnt beans and too much vanilla syrup.
I ordered a black coffee, something simple, controlled and I stepped aside, pulling out my phone to review Noah’s updated rehab metrics. “Emily?” I looked up from my phone screen.
Dr. Adrian Cole stood a few feet away from me, a paper cup in one hand, his other hand was tucked casually into the pocket of his coat. I recognized him immediately. He was a Senior resident, top of his program. Someone whose name came up often in academic discussions like a benchmark, he was respected.
“Dr. Cole,” I said, straightening slightly.
He smiled. “Adrian is fine.”
I hesitated for half a second. “Adrian.”
“Good,” he said. “I was hoping I had run into you.”
“That’s… lucky.”
“Or intentional,” he said lightly.
There was something easy about him, nothing overwhelming or intense. “I’ve been reviewing some of your work,” he continued.
My brows pulled together slightly. “My work?”
“The rehabilitation reports you submitted last week,” he said. “They were thorough.” That caught me off guard.
“Thank you.”
“You’re precise,” he added. “That’s rare at your level.”
I felt something settle in my chest, it was not pride but recognition. The kind I had been chasing quietly for years. “I try to be,” I said.
“It shows.”
We moved towards a small table near the window, the light spilling across the surface in a way that made everything feel a little more open. “I heard you’re working with Harris,” Adrian said.
“Yes.”
“How is that going?” He asked.
“Challenging,” I admitted.
He smiled, “I can imagine.”
“But productive,” I added quickly. “His progress is consistent.”
“I read that too,” he said. “You’re managing a difficult case well.”
“Thank you,” I said again, some heat rising to my cheeks.
“You have a good instinct for balancing performance and recovery. That’s not something that can be taught easily.” He said.
I wrapped my hands around my warm coffee, I needed that heat.
“I’ve worked hard to develop that.”
“I can tell.” He took a sip of his coffee, studying me briefly. “Have you considered specializing further?” he asked.
“In sports medicine?” I asked, not sure where this conversation was going.
“Or research alongside it.”
I tilted my head slightly. “I’ve thought about it.”
“You should,” he said. “You would be good at it.”
There was no hesitation in his voice, he was being certain about that. It made me happy. “I appreciate that,” I said.
“I’m serious,” he added. “If you ever need a recommendation or guidance, I would be happy to help.”
The offer hung in the air, this was unexpected and significant. My heart was bursting in my chest but I didn't want to show it.
“That’s… very generous.”
“It’s practical. Talent should be supported.” He said.
I smiled faintly. “That’s a very efficient way of putting it.”
“I try.”
We fell into an easy conversation after that. Talking about rehabilitation techniques, injury prevention, the way athletes push past limits without understanding long-term consequences. There was no tension, it was purely just conversation. I realized that talking to him was easy. It didn’t feel like a challenge.
“You’re very focused,” Adrian said at one point.
“I am.”
“On your career.”
“Yes.”
“Not much room for distraction.”
I shook my head slightly. “No.”
“That’s not a bad thing.”
“I know.”
“But it can be limiting.”
I frowned. “How?”
“Sometimes the unexpected is where the most growth happens.”
I nearly laughed. “That sounds like something Noah would say.”
Adrian’s brows lifted slightly. “Does it?”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t agree with him.”
“No.”
“But you remember what he says.”
I stilled. “That’s different.”
“Is it?”
I didn’t answer, because I didn’t want to examine that too closely.
“Emily.” I looked up. Adrian’s expression was calm and thoughtful. “You don’t have to have everything figured out right now,” he said.
“I know.”
“You act like you do.”
“I prefer clarity.”
“And control.”
“Yes.”
He smiled. “That makes sense.”
“You’re different from most students I meet,” he said.
“How am I different?” I asked.
“You listen,” he said. “And you apply things quickly.”
“I try to.” I shrugged.
“You don’t just try. You do.” He said.
The cafe door opened, but I didn't look, I didn't need to even look because something shifted, like the air changed as if something heavier stepped into the room. Adrian was still talking about clinical rotations, but my attention drifted and pulled. And then I felt the presence.
I turned around, Noah was standing near the entrance, he was watching, he didn't smile at me
His expression was controlled, it was carefully neutral, but his jaw was set. His shoulders was slightly rigid. His eyes weren’t neutral at all. They were sharp, unreadable at first glance, but not if you looked closely because I had been paying attention. I had been noticing things I shouldn’t, I had learned the difference between his performative ease and this. This wasn’t ease, it was something else that was tighter.
It was Jealousy.
The realization hit me so suddenly it almost made me look away, but I didn’t because I needed to be sure. The longer I held his gaze, the clearer it became. He wasn’t just observing, he wasn’t just passing by, he was watching me with someone else. And he didn’t like it.
“Emily?” Adrian’s voice pulled me back.
I refocused on him. “Yes?”
“You drifted.”
“Sorry,” I said quickly. “I was just-thinking.”
He followed my line of sight briefly and then he looked back at me.
“Ah I see, Noah?”
“Yes.”
“Should I be concerned?”
The question was light, half-joking, but I felt the weight of it anyway.
“No,” I said, but the word didn’t feel entirely true because something about the way Noah was standing there, his gaze hadn’t shifted.
I looked back at Adrian. He had a calm expression, steadiness in his posture. This conversation had unfolded without tension and complication.
My attention kept pulling back ro Noah, the tension in his stance, his presence disrupted everything without saying a single word.
Adrian stood up. “I should get going,” he said.
“So soon?” I asked.
“I have rounds,” he said. “But we will talk again.”
I nodded. “I would like that.”
He smiled. “I will follow up about that recommendation.”
“Thank you.”
He hesitated for a second. “You’re doing well, Emily.” and then he left. I remained seated for a moment, staring at my coffee and the table, at anything except the direction I knew I would look again. But I couldn’t avoid it forever.
I stood up from my seat. I turned around and found him again. He was still standing there, watching me. His expression hadn’t softened.
Now I knew without a doubt that Noah Harris didn’t like seeing me with someone else.