Standing Me Up Again

~ Asher's POV ~

By the time practice ended, my legs were aching, my shoulders felt heavy, and all I wanted was a warm shower and my bed.

I sat on the bench in the changing room and bent down to untie my shoes. My fingers were a little stiff from the cold, and the laces seemed determined to fight back.

Around me, the other members of the cheerleading squad were packing their belongings, laughing and talking about their plans for the evening.

The sharp smell of ice lingered in the air, mixed with the faint scent of sweat and the cleaning products used around the rink.

I finally pulled off my shoes and let out a relieved breath.

“Thank God,” I muttered. “Another five minutes and I would have died in there.”

“Dramatic as always,” one of my teammates said from the other end of the bench.

I picked up a rolled-up pair of socks and threw them at him. He dodged them easily, laughing as they landed on the floor behind him.

“Keep talking. One day, I'll make sure you regret it.” I said, quietly.

“I'm shaking.” He replied, laughing.

“You should be.”

He laughed again, and I shook my head before turning back to my locker. I was too tired to continue arguing with him.

I opened my bag and took out my clothes.

I pulled off my cheerleading top and folded it before placing it inside my bag. Then I changed out of the rest of my uniform, folded them together, and tucked them into my bag as well.

I took out my black jeans and stepped into them, pulling them over my hips before fastening the button. I grabbed my loose white T-shirt and slipped it over my head, straightening the hem once it settled around my waist.

I finished by putting on my grey hoodie and pulling the sleeves down over my wrists.

After putting on my socks and sneakers, I packed the rest of my things and zipped my bag. I ran my fingers through my slightly damp hair, trying to smooth it down, then checked my reflection in the small mirror attached to my locker.

My cheeks were still pink from practice, and a few strands of hair clung to my forehead. I brushed them away and picked up my phone.

There was no new message from Evan.

I stared at the screen for a moment before locking it and slipping it into my pocket.

Evan was part of the hockey team, and his practice was scheduled to finish later than mine.

We had agreed to meet outside the rink when he was done so we could go home together. He had promised to take me home himself, and although I could have arranged another ride, I wanted to spend some time with him.

We hadn't had much time together lately.

Whenever I tried to make plans with him, something seemed to come up.

Sometimes he was busy with hockey, sometimes he had other things to do, and sometimes he promised to call but forgot.

I kept telling myself that we were both busy with school and sports and that things would eventually settle down.

I didn't want to be the boyfriend who complained about every little thing.

Besides, I loved Evan. Surely, a few missed plans weren't enough to turn into a problem.

At least, that was what I kept telling myself.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and left the changing room. The corridor outside was quieter than it had been earlier, though the sounds from the rink still reached me through the open doors.

I could hear the scrape of skates against the ice, the occasional sharp whistle, and the distant voices of players calling to one another.

The cold air brushed against my face as I approached the exit.

Jamie was waiting for me in the corridor, leaning against the wall with his phone in his hand. He slipped his phone into his pocket and looked me up and down.

“Finally,” he said. “I was beginning to think you'd decided to spend the night in there.”

I rolled my eyes as I walked toward him. “Practice just ended. What did you expect me to do, fly out?”

“With the way you complain about being tired, I thought you'd crawl out.”

“Jamie, I swear you're the most annoying person I've ever met.”

“And yet, here you are, still talking to me.”

“Unfortunately.”

He grinned and reached for my bag before I could adjust the strap properly. I held on for a second, but he tugged it away from me.

“Hey! I can carry that myself. "I said immediately.

“I know.” He swung the bag over his shoulder. “But you're tired, and I'm a gentleman.”

I stared at him. “You? A gentleman?”

“Don't sound so shocked. It hurts my feelings.”

“You don't have feelings.”

“That's what you think.”

I laughed despite myself, and he gave me a satisfied smile as we headed toward the exit together.

Outside, the evening air was cooler. The sky above the university buildings had begun to darken, with the last traces of sunlight spreading orange and pink across the horizon.

Students crossed the pavement in small groups, their voices blending with the sound of passing cars. A few people stood near the entrance, waiting for rides, while others walked toward the parking lot with their bags slung over their shoulders.

Jamie glanced at me as we reached his car.

“Should I drive you home?”

I shook my head. “No need. I'm waiting for Evan.”

He stopped beside the driver's door and turned to look at me.

“Waiting for him where? He's right here at the rink.”

I pointed toward the building. “He's still at hockey practice. We agreed to meet outside when he finishes, and then we'll go home together.”

Jamie looked toward the rink, then back at me. His expression changed slightly.

“So, you want me to leave you here until your boyfriend finishes?”

“I won't be long.”

He raised an eyebrow.

I sighed. “Jamie, please don't start.”

“Start what? I only asked a question.”

“You know what I mean.”

He stared at me for a moment, then shook his head. “Fine. I'll wait with you.”

I blinked. “You don't have to.”

“I know I don't have to. I'm choosing to.” He opened the car and placed my bag in the back seat. “I'm not leaving you here alone just for your boyfriend to stand you up again.”

“Jamie!”

“What? Did I lie?”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out immediately.

He looked at me as though my silence had answered him.

“Evan isn't going to stand me up,” I said, though my confidence wasn't as strong as I wanted it to be. “He's just finishing practice.”

“Then we'll wait and see.”

I folded my arms. “You're making this sound like some kind of test.”

“No, sweetheart. I'm making sure you get home safely.” He closed the back door and pointed toward the passenger side. “Now, get in. I don't want to stand out here all evening.”

“You just said you'd wait with me.”

“And I will. But I'd rather wait in my beautiful car than freeze out here because someone forgot how to make a decision.”

I shook my head, laughing softly, and climbed into the passenger seat.

Jamie's car was as beautiful as ever. The white body shone beneath the parking lot lights, and the black interior looked clean enough to belong in a showroom. The leather seat felt cool against the backs of my legs, and a faint, pleasant scent filled the car.

Jamie had always taken good care of it, wiping away even the smallest marks whenever he noticed them.

His boyfriend had given him the car for his birthday.

Sometimes, I still found that difficult to believe.

The man had travelled all the way from France to New York just to celebrate Jamie's birthday with him.

He had surprised him with the sports car, and Jamie had spent the next several days talking about it so much that I had threatened to block his number.

Of course, he had ignored me.

He loved talking about his boyfriend, and I couldn't even blame him.

The two of them were disgustingly sweet together. Jamie could receive a simple message from him and spend the next ten minutes smiling at his phone like an idiot.

I had teased him about it more times than I could count.

Now, as I sat beside him, I couldn't help wondering what it felt like to be loved so consistently that you never had to question whether someone wanted to spend time with you.

I quickly pushed the thought away.

I wasn't jealous of Jamie. I was happy for him.

I just wished Evan and I could spend more time together without me having to wonder whether he would keep his promises.

Jamie climbed into the driver's seat but didn't start the engine. Instead, he turned toward me. “Have you messaged him?”

I pulled out my phone. “Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because he knows we're supposed to meet here.”

“And what if he forgets?”

“He won't forget.”

Jamie gave me a look.

I ignored him and opened my messages. I typed a short text asking Evan how much longer his practice would take, then sent it before I could overthink it.

“There. Happy?”

“Very.” He settled back in his seat. “Now we wait.”

I leaned against the headrest and looked through the windshield toward the rink entrance. Through the glass doors, I could see people moving around inside, but I couldn't tell whether Evan was among them.

The first ten minutes passed without much trouble.

Jamie played music softly through the car speakers, and I tapped my fingers against my thigh as I listened. Every now and then, I glanced at my phone, expecting Evan to reply, but nothing came.

After fifteen minutes, I checked again.

Still nothing.

I told myself he was probably concentrating on practice. Hockey required attention, and I knew how seriously Evan took his training. It wasn't unusual for players to lose track of time when they were on the ice.

I could be patient.

Another ten minutes passed.

The music changed to a slower song, and Jamie lowered the volume. He glanced at me when he noticed me refreshing my messages for the third time in a few minutes.

“Anything?”

I shook my head. “Not yet.”

He said nothing, but I could feel his disapproval from the driver's seat.

I turned toward him. “Don't look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you're about to give me a lecture.”

“I'm not.”

“You are.”

He pressed his lips together, trying to hide a smile. “Fine. I'll save my lecture for later.”

“Thank you.”

“Don't thank me yet.”

I groaned and leaned my head against the window.

The glass was cool against my temple, and I watched students cross the parking lot beneath the bright lights.

A couple walked past holding hands, laughing at something one of them had said. Another student hurried toward a waiting car while speaking on the phone.

Everyone seemed to have somewhere to be.

Everyone except me.

I looked at the time again.

Nearly half an hour had passed since I had left the changing room.

I knew Evan's practice could run late, but he could at least send a message. One sentence would have been enough.

Even a quick *"I'll be late"* would have stopped me from checking my phone every few minutes.

I stared at our conversation, my thumb hovering over the keyboard.

I wanted to ask if he was all right, but I didn't want to sound impatient. I had already sent him a message, and I didn't want him to think I was trying to distract him while he was practicing.

I locked the screen and placed the phone on my lap.

Jamie watched me from the corner of his eye. “You know, Asher, you don't always have to make excuses for people.”

I turned toward him. “I'm not making excuses.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Then tell me why you're still sitting here defending someone who hasn't even bothered to reply to your message.”

I looked away. “Maybe he hasn't checked his phone.”

“Maybe.” Jamie nodded slowly. “And maybe he's busy. Maybe his coach is making them practice longer. Maybe his phone is in his bag. There are a hundred possible reasons, Ash. But that doesn't change the fact that you've been waiting here without knowing what's going on.”

I pressed my lips together. “I know.”

“Do you?”

I looked at him, irritation rising in my chest. “What do you want me to do, Jamie? Walk into the rink and drag him off the ice?”

“No. I want you to stop acting like wanting basic consideration makes you a difficult boyfriend.”

His words caught me off guard.

For a moment, I didn't know what to say.

Jamie wasn't the kind of person who softened his opinions just because he thought I might dislike hearing them.

He could be playful, dramatic, and downright irritating, but when it came to me, he rarely said something without a reason.

I looked down at my hands.

“I just don't want to argue with him over something small,” I admitted.

“Something small?”

I gave a helpless shrug. “We're both busy. He has hockey, I have cheerleading, and we have classes. Maybe I'm expecting too much.”

Jamie's expression softened, but he shook his head.

“Wanting your boyfriend to keep his word isn't expecting too much.”

I swallowed.

I wanted to disagree. I wanted to tell him that he didn't understand, that Evan and I were fine, that a few missed plans didn't mean anything serious.

But I couldn't make the words come out.

Because the truth was that I had started noticing the changes too.

For the past two weeks, Evan had promised to take me home several times, and each time, something had happened.

One day, he had said his coach needed to speak with him. Another time, he had claimed a teammate needed help with something. There had always been a reason, but the explanations had begun to feel less convincing.

I hadn't pressed him because I didn't want to seem clingy.

I loved him, and I wanted to trust him.

But trust shouldn't have to mean pretending not to notice when something hurt.

I rubbed my palms against my jeans and took a slow breath.

“Maybe I should talk to him,” I said quietly.

Jamie nodded. “That's all I'm asking.”

I looked toward the rink again. “I'll talk to him when he comes out.”

“Good.”

He reached over and gave my hand a squeeze before returning his attention to the windshield.

I appreciated the gesture more than I wanted to admit.

Jamie had a way of making me feel less alone, even when he was being annoying. He never forced me to talk when I wasn't ready, but he also never let me convince myself that my feelings didn't matter.

I was lucky to have him.

The minutes continued to pass.

By the time nearly an hour had gone by, the sky outside had turned dark. The parking lot lights shone brightly against the pavement, and the air had grown cold enough that I pulled my sleeves over my hands.

My phone remained silent.

I checked it again, then opened Evan's contact and stared at his name.

I could call him.

I could ask him where he was.

But a strange heaviness had settled in my chest, and I was tired of being the one who always reached out first.

Jamie glanced at the clock on the dashboard before turning toward me.

“Is Evan going to stand you up again?”