MasukAllieThe photographs appeared online before eight in the morning.They were grainy.Dark.Taken from somewhere inside Chase’s house, though the angle did not show enough to identify the exact location.In the first image, I was stepping into the upstairs hallway wearing one of Chase’s shirts. My hair was untidy, and my face was turned partly away from the camera.The second showed me near his bedroom door.The third showed Chase behind me.Nothing explicit.Nothing that proved what the source claimed.But the suggestion was enough.By the time I finished looking at them, three gossip accounts had already posted the same headline.ALLIE HARPER CAUGHT LEAVING CHASE RYDER’S BEDROOM AFTER SECRET NIGHT TOGETHERMy stomach dropped.I sat on the edge of the guest-room bed with my phone in both hands.The room around me suddenly felt unfamiliar.The curtains.The dresser.The chair where my clothes rested.Every object became part of a space someone had entered or watched.The photographs co
ChaseLogan sent the reporter’s name before I reached home.He also forwarded screenshots of Derek’s conversation with the journalist and a short summary of the questions they had asked.The details were worse than he suggested.The reporter knew Allie had agreed not to return to her apartment.They knew she was using the guest room.They knew security had added cameras around the balcony and outer gate.They knew we shared the home office.One message even asked whether Allie had begun preparing meals according to my practice schedule.That detail stopped me.It was too small to come from public photographs.Too ordinary.Allie had cooked while staying with me, but we had never posted it. No reporter had entered the house. The security team did not discuss our meals.Someone had either heard us speaking privately or watched enough of our routine to understand it.I called Nadia from the car.“We have another leak.”“What was released?”“Nothing yet. A reporter is asking questions abo
Chase I chose the training facility because it had cameras. Not hidden cameras. Visible ones. Mounted above the entrances, along the main corridor, and inside the public lounge where athletes sometimes met agents or sponsors after hours. Logan had asked for privacy. He was getting controlled privacy. There would be no reporters, no crowd, and no students holding phones around us. But there would also be no chance for either of us to change the story later. Team security knew where I was. Nadia knew too. Allie had my live location and the name of the facility manager. I arrived ten minutes early. Logan arrived exactly on time. He entered through the main doors wearing a dark jacket, jeans, and the same controlled expression he used during interviews. His eyes moved immediately toward the cameras. He noticed everything. “Public enough for you?” he asked. “Safe enough.” “For which of us?” “That depends on how the conversation go
Allie “Apparently, breakfast.” Noah stood in Mia’s doorway wearing only dark sweatpants. His hair was untidy, his chest was bare, and one hand still held the door as though he had not yet decided whether letting me inside was a good idea. I stared at him. Then looked toward Mia. She stood near the bedroom door wearing an oversized shirt, with sleep still visible in her face and her hair twisted into a loose, messy knot. My surprise lasted several seconds. Delight followed immediately. “Oh.” Mia’s expression became defensive. “Do not.” I looked at Noah again. Then back at her. “Oh.” “Allie.” “I only said one word.” “You said it twice.” “The second one had more information.” Noah stepped aside. “Are you coming in, or should I close the door while you process this?” I entered slowly, holding the coffee cups and breakfast bag against my chest. “I was bringing food.” “Excellent timing,” Noah said. Mia glared at h
Noah “I didn’t say I wanted you to leave.” Mia’s hand remained around my wrist. I stood in the open doorway with my jacket over one arm, trying to understand whether she had stopped me because she wanted me or because she was afraid the moment would end badly if I walked away. Those were not the same thing. I looked down at her fingers. “Then tell me what you want.” Her eyes lifted to mine. “You always ask serious questions at inconvenient times.” “This seems like the correct time.” “It is nearly midnight.” “That does not make the question less important.” Mia released my wrist and stepped back into the apartment. The door remained open between us. She crossed her arms. “I invited you upstairs.” “Yes.” “I kissed you outside.” “Yes.” “I told you not to leave.” “Yes.” Her expression tightened. “How much clearer do I need to be?” “Clear enough that I know you are choosing me, not reacting because I respected your
MiaNoah had asked me the same question three times in two weeks.The first time, we were leaving a restaurant after midnight.The second time, he was driving me home from one of his games.The third time, he stood in my kitchen holding a spoon and asked, “What are we doing?”Each time, I found a way not to answer.At the restaurant, I blamed the cold and hurried toward the car.After the game, I kissed him before he could finish the conversation.In my kitchen, I told him the ice cream was melting.It had worked temporarily.Noah was patient.He was not stupid.By the fourth week of casually dating, the question had begun appearing in everything he did not say.When he arrived with coffee, I wondered whether a boyfriend was supposed to remember my order.When he stayed on the phone while I complained about a client, I wondered whether casual men listened for forty minutes without becoming distracted.When he stopped introducing me as Allie’s friend and began saying only my name, I no







