I Quit Being His Hidden Girlfriend

The final buzzer of the scrimmage was still ringing off the rafters when I reached the bench with Jace's drink.

Blue Gatorade, the frost still on the bottle. The flavor he'd lived on for two years. I’d jogged to the campus market and back during the second half.

Sloane Adler got there at the same time. She'd grabbed a room-temperature water off the folding table on her way over without even looking at it.

Jace looked at my hand. Then he looked past it, took the water from Sloane, cracked the cap, and drained it in one long pull.

I stood there with my arm still half-raised.

Someone laughed. Not at me, exactly. Just near me.

My face went hot. I lowered the bottle and started picking at the edge of the label with my thumbnail, like that was a normal thing to be doing.

"Hey. Manager." Theo Sinclair dropped onto the bench beside me, soaked to the collar, and held out his hand. "If Calloway doesn't want it, I'll take it. I'm dying here."

I could have hugged him. I handed it over.

His fingers hadn't even closed around it when Jace reached across, plucked the bottle out of Theo's grip, and lobbed it into the trash can by the tunnel.

It hit the bottom with a hollow thunk.

Jace didn't look at me. He was already toweling off his neck, already talking to the guy next to him about the second-half press.

That was Jace. He did what he felt like, when he felt like it. What it cost me never seemed to cross his mind.

And standing there, with a dozen guys pretending they hadn't seen it, something in my chest went very quiet.

A love that has to stay hidden isn't love. It's a waiting room.

I was done waiting.

Theo's grin was gone.

"What the hell, Calloway? She gave that to me."

He turned to me. "Ignore him. He's got the manners of a raccoon." Then he bent over the trash can, fished the bottle out, and wiped it on his shorts.

I caught his wrist. "Don't. It was in the trash."

"Cap's sealed." He twisted it open and took a long swallow. "Still good."

From the bench, Jace snorted.

"You sure it was sealed? You'd just take her word for it?" He tossed his towel over his shoulder. "Brave man. I wouldn't drink anything she handed me."

He didn't finish the thought. He didn't have to.

The bench lit up like a struck match.

"Wait. Did she do something to Jace's drinks?"

"That's why he's weird about her. I knew there was something."

"Bro, Calloway's polite to everybody. Refs. Reporters. That one guy from State who elbowed him in the throat. The only person he won't even look at is her."

"He won't let her touch his ball before warm-ups. Did you guys notice that?"

I stood there and couldn't find a single word.

Because all of it was true. Just not for the reason they thought.

When I'd gotten the manager job, Jace had made one rule: on the court, we were strangers. He didn't want anyone saying I'd gotten the job because I was sleeping with the starting shooting guard. So he never talked to me at practice. Never stood near me. Never took anything from my hands.

It had worked. Nobody knew we were together.

Now they thought he couldn't stand me.

"Honestly," somebody muttered, "should she even be handling team stuff? Water, meds, all that?"

The bench went silent.

Theo's head came up. He didn't say anything. He just looked down the row, and every mouth on it closed.

Sloane, of course, couldn't let a good fire burn out on its own.

She tilted her head at me, sweet as frosting. "Careful, Captain. Conference tournament's in two weeks. If something happened to you, what would this team do?"

My vision actually swam.

"I bought that at the market on Fifth twenty minutes ago," I said. My voice came out too high. "They have cameras. Go look. I didn't touch it."

Sloane shrugged one shoulder. "I'm just looking out for Theo. If you didn't do anything, why are you so worked up?"

I knew how this went. A lie takes one breath. Killing it takes a week.

I opened my mouth anyway. Theo's hand closed on my elbow.

"I believe you," he said quietly.

Then he turned to Sloane, and his voice wasn't quiet anymore. "No proof means it's just a rumor you started. This was a closed practice. You weren't invited. I need you to leave."

Jace pushed up off the bench with a long, bored sigh.

"Relax, Cap. It was a joke. You don't have to go full disciplinary hearing."

He hooked a thumb at Sloane. "And she was invited. By me. I talked to Coach last week about bringing on an assistant manager. He signed off this morning."

He smiled. "Sloane's officially staff."

My head snapped up.

Jace met my eyes. Calm. Steady. Then he looked away, like I was a stranger in the stands.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

It was a text from Coach Delgado.

Lena, based on feedback from the players, Sloane will be taking over team manager duties for the time being. Thanks for your work. —D

Around me, the guys started clapping.

I knew I was supposed to clap too. Smile. Welcome her.

My mouth wouldn't do it.

I picked up the towels like it was any other practice.

It was the last time I’d ever do it.