Desired by All and He Threw Away 80

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Aiden’s POV 

Practice feels different the next morning lighter somehow like someone finally cracked a window open in a room thatsbeen suffocating for weeks. 

the court rings with echoes of sneakers and chatter the kind of easy noise i havent heard in a long time.even the guys seem different today looser less wound up. Maybe it’s the win last night. 

Maybe it’s the fact that for a few hours we all forgot the outside world existed. 

or maybe its just me. 

i pull my football shirt over my head fingers brushing against skin still warm from the shower.the locker room is alive Tyler and Jason arguing over some stupid bet Mason dribbling a ball even though coach literally told him not to someone blasting a playlist so bad im convinced it was curated by a tone deaf cat. 

im halfway through tying my shoes when i hear Tyler’s voice cut through the noise. 

“Yo, whats this Aiden?” 

theres something in his tone that makes the entire room still for a breath. I glance up. 

He’s holding it. 

The velvet box. 

The small one I thought I buried deep in my bag beneath my hoodie and tape. 

my chest tightens.for a second all i hear is blood rushing in my ears fast. Hard. 

then i force a breath and let a grin tug at my mouth. ” its for my girlfriend.” 

That gets them. Right on cue. 

“No way.” 

“Our boy’s gone soft!” 

“Aiden? You’ve turn into a lover boy 

their voices rise in playful disbelief and laughter spills around the room. The good kind. The kind that doesn’t sting. 

I shake my head, pretending I’m unfazed as I finish my laces. “Relax,” I say. “It’s not that deep.” 

“We are yet to know who this mystery girlfriend is” jason asks, leaning against the lockers. “Someone we know?” 

Tyler wiggles his eyebrows. “How long are you going to hiding her from the team, man?” 

i shrug keeping my tone light. ” doesnt matter.” 

A beat. Then–quieter, softer— 

“She’s… special.“That shuts them up faster than anything else I could’ve said. 

But special doesn’t even scratch the surface–not for what she is to me.not for the way her voice cuts through the noise in my head or how she looks at me like she sees past everything i pretend to be. 

they dont need to know that Taylor isnt my girlfriend. Or that she’s not mine in any way that counts. 

Chapter Re 

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Or that I wish she was. 

by the time i leave the football practice the thought of her is still stuck to me, like the echo of a song i cant shake. The walk to my car feels automatic. City noise blurs into one long hum. Faces pass by without shape. 

i cant get her out of my head. 

it started a few days ago.i was walking downtown trying to clear my mind when something in a shop window caught the corner of my eye. 

a silver chain thin,soft delicate like a line of moonlight caught my eye.the teardrop pendant nestled at its center wasnt anything grand but the way it caught the display light made it look alive as if a quiet heartbeat pulsed beneath the glass. 

and for some reason my steps faltered. 

i found myself rooted to the spot staring through the reflection streaked window my breath fogging the glass as a familiar face rose in my mind, Taylor. 

she isnt the kind of beauty that stops traffic or gets stamped on glossy magazine covers.hers is the kind you only notice when the world finally shuts up for a second. 

the kind tucked in the stubborn tilt of her chin in the way her jaw locks when shes swallowing words sharp enough to cut in the softness she hides under layers of sarcasm she wields like armor. 

shes grit braided with grace and somehow the mess of it works. 

And something deep in me murmured, That’s hers. 

I tried to smother it with logic. It was practical, I told myself. The necklace would look good on her at the community event next week–subtle enough for the photos, polished enough for the headlines. 

A perfect prop for our perfectly curated image. The world would eat it up.thats all this is supposed to be- just a 

show. 

at least thats the line i keep feeding myself. 

by the time the sun dips behind the skyline im pacing my penthouse the glass walls reflecting the restless movement of a man who cant get out of his own head.the velvet box sits unopened on the kitchen counter like its waiting for me to stop lying to myself. 

i should wait until tomorrow. Hand it to her without thinking. Make a dumb joke about the event. Keep it easy. Keep it nothing. 

But something pulls at me–a quiet tension under my ribs that won’t let go. 

I check the time.she should have been home by now.i reach for my phone my thumb hovering over her name as if the screen might bite. Then I press call. 

It rings. 

Once. 

Twice. 

Three times. 

Nothing. 

A tight little line forms between my brows. She always picks up–even if it’s to hiss that I’m interrupting something important, or to threaten bodily harm if this isn’t an emergency, or to give me that flat, exhausted ” 

Chapter BO 

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what do you want?” that still counts as affection in her language. 

But now… nothing. 

The silence on the other end isn’t just empty. It feels wrong like a room that should be lit suddenly gone dark. 

I call again. 

Still nothing. 

my stomach tightens slow coiling like the air right before a storm cracks open the sky.i try to reason with myself. She’s busy. She’s out.she is ignoring me on purpose.wouldnt be the first time. 

But the logic falls flat. 

the unease doesnt ease. 

if anything it sharpens cold precise sliding between my ribs and settling there.i stare at the phone. At the empty apartment.at the necklace on the counter. a dozen thoughts slam through my head all at once- too fast too loud too much. 

i dont think. I move. 

Keys. 

Jacket. 

Wallet. 

Door. 

the penthouse door shuts behind me with a heavy click that echoes down the hallway like a warning i should have heard hours ago. 

the night air hits me the second i step outside cool biting charging my skin with cold.street lights paint long streaks across pavement slick from evening dew.traffic hums in the distance low and restless. 

i slide into the driver’s seat breath shallow pulse climbing. 

the necklace rests in the passenger seat where i tossed it without thinking. The velvet catches faint light. the pendant inside is silent waiting heavy with all the words i havent said. 

i grip the steering wheel knuckles taut. 

She always answers. 

Always. My jaw tightens. 

the engine roars to life beneath my hands vibrating through the seat grounding me in a body that suddenly feels too small for the panic beating against my ribs. 

the road stretches ahead- dark open waiting. 

i press down on the gas. 

the city blurs into streaks of color and shadow neon signs smearing across the windshield.my heart pounds in time with the rhythm of the tires hitting uneven pavement. 

all i can think about is the necklace in the passenger seat 

and the girl who hasnt answered her phone.