Chapter 151
Samantha's POV
Martinez leaned back in his chair, studying me with an intensity that should have been uncomfortable but instead felt... validating. Like I was finally being taken seriously.
"Tell me," he said, voice casual but eyes still sharp, "how are things between you and Mr. Miller these days?"
The question caught me off guard. I'd been so focused on delivering the Ellie information that I hadn't prepared for this.
"We're... complicated," I heard myself say.
His eyebrow arched. "Complicated how?"
I opened my mouth to deflect, to say something vague and noncommittal. But the way he was looking at me—actually looking at me, like my answer mattered—made something shift inside.
"We're probably going to break up soon."
The words were out before I could stop them. I blinked, momentarily surprised at myself. That wasn't what I'd meant to say. Lucas and I weren't breaking up—not really. He wouldn't dare. I'd made sure of that.
But it's not entirely a lie, I rationalized quickly. He has been different lately. Distant. Cold.
And sitting here, across from a man who represented everything Lucas wasn't—successful, mature, genuinely interested—suddenly the possibility didn't seem so far-fetched.
I could break up with him. Anytime I want. That's my choice to make.
Martinez's expression shifted, surprise flickering across his features before settling into something that looked almost... sympathetic.
"I'm sorry to hear that." He paused. "Is this related to Ms. Green?"
God, how do I play this?
"Partly," I admitted, feeling my way through the lie that was becoming more truth with every word. "But mostly... he's changed. He's always tired, always busy with training or practice or team meetings. And when he is around, it's like he's somewhere else. Like I'm just—" I stopped myself.
"Like you're not his priority," Martinez finished quietly.
The understanding in his voice made my throat tight. I nodded, even as a small voice in my head whispered: Lucas would never leave you. He's too guilty, too desperate to prove he's a good person. You have him wrapped around your finger.
But that doesn't mean I have to stay.
"You're right," I said softly, testing the words. Testing this new reality where I wasn't clinging to Lucas Miller but choosing something—someone—better.
"Large-scale athletes often struggle with time management," Martinez said. "Especially freshmen. The pressure of maintaining academic performance while meeting athletic obligations can be overwhelming."
It was a professional answer. Clinical. But then he added:
"Though truly caring for someone means making time, regardless of how busy you are."
I looked up sharply. He was watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read—not pity, not manipulation. Just... acknowledgment. Like he was stating a simple fact.
"You're right," I said softly.
Martinez tilted his head slightly. "May I ask—has Mr. Miller been experiencing any unusual physical symptoms? Fatigue, mood swings, unexplained injuries?"
"All of the above." I thought about the bruises I'd seen last week when Lucas changed his shirt. The way his eyes sometimes seemed to catch the light strangely. "Why?"
"Just concerned for student wellness." He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "If you notice anything particularly concerning, please don't hesitate to reach out."
He pulled out a fresh business card and turned it over. His pen moved with elegant precision as he wrote something on the back.
"This is my personal number," he said, sliding it across the desk. "You can contact me anytime. Day or night."
Our fingers brushed as I took the card. The touch was brief, professional, but it sent awareness skating up my arm.
When was the last time Lucas made me feel this... noticed?
"Thank you, Mr. Martinez."
"Caleb," he corrected gently. "When we're speaking privately, Caleb is fine."
I clutched the card, hyperaware of the weight of his name on my tongue. "Caleb."
His smile widened fractionally. "Much better."
We stood simultaneously. He walked me to the door, and I was acutely conscious of the space between us—close enough that I could smell his cologne. Something woodsy and expensive that made my head spin.
"Thank you again for the information, Samantha," he said. "And for the coffee. You have excellent instincts."
Excellent instincts.
I floated down the hallway, still clutching my half-finished latte. The winter sun was setting through the windows, painting everything gold and amber.
My phone buzzed. Lucas, finally: Training tonight. Can't do dinner. Sorry.
I stared at the text. No explanation. No "I'll make it up to you." Just another cancellation in a string of cancellations that stretched back three weeks.
Three weeks since he'd really looked at me. Three weeks since he'd seemed like he gave a damn about anything except basketball and mysterious bruises and whatever the hell was happening with Ellie Green.
I pulled up my phone's notepad and created a new entry: Plan B
1. Learn more about Caleb Martinez—background, interests, social connections
2. Find reasons to interact outside academic setting
3. Gradually reduce public contact with Lucas
I paused, finger hovering over the screen. Then I opened my wallet and carefully moved Lucas's basketball photo from the front pocket to a back compartment. In its place, I slid Caleb's card—the one with his personal number.
My reflection stared back at me from a window as I passed. Same blonde hair, same pale skin, same girl who'd learned too young that survival meant knowing when to cut your losses.
This isn't betrayal, I told myself. This is adaptation. All I'm doing is refusing to sink with a ship that's already underwater.
Besides, Caleb Martinez was everything Lucas wasn't. Mature. Successful. Someone who actually saw me instead of looking through me at the ghost of his childhood friend.
Someone who could help me finally, finally show Ellie Green what it felt like to lose.
I walked out of Student Services Building into the gathering dusk. Somewhere across campus, Lucas was probably wrapping up practice, exhausted and distracted. And Ellie was probably commiserating with her friends about her supposedly troubled relationship.
Neither of them had any idea that the game had just changed.
Sorry, Lucas, I thought, tucking my phone away. But in this world, you can only rely on yourself. And right now, I've found a much better bet.