WHAT WAS HIS PROBLEM? I HATE HIM. I HATE HIM.

Chapter 8

"You okay?" Jordan asked, noticing my sudden tension.

"Yeah, fine. Let's go."

But I wasn't fine. Something about Ace disappearing like that made me more nervous than when I could see him. At least when he was visible I knew where he was and what he was doing.

We walked back toward the dorms and Jordan chattered about his match and his plans for the weekend. I tried to listen but part of my attention was focused on the people around us, looking for any sign of Ace.

"You're being weird," Jordan said as we reached our building. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. Just tired."

"Is this about that guy from this morning? Ace?"

I hesitated. "Maybe. He was at your match today, just standing there watching."

"Watching the match?"

"Watching me."

Jordan frowned. "That's creepy. What's his deal anyway? I know he's your girlfriend's brother but he seems to really have it out for you."

"I honestly don't know. From the first day I met him he's acted like I personally offended him somehow."

"Maybe he's just protective of his sister."

"Maybe. Or maybe he just doesn't like me."

We got in the elevator and Jordan hit the button for our floor. "Well, his loss. You're a good guy, Max. Don't let him make you think otherwise."

I appreciated that but it was easier said than done. When someone is constantly telling you that you don't belong or that you're not good enough, it starts to get in your head no matter how much you try to ignore it.

We got back to our room and Jordan immediately started getting ready for his shower. I sat on my bed and tried to focus on my homework but I couldn't concentrate. My mind kept going back to the way Ace had been watching me at the tennis courts.

What was he planning? Was I overthinking it or was there really something to worry about?

My phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number. For a second my heart stopped, thinking it might be Ace, but when I opened it, it was just a reminder about a study group for one of my classes.

I forced myself to calm down. Maybe I was being paranoid. Maybe Ace had just been at the tennis courts for completely unrelated reasons and I was reading too much into it.

But deep down I knew that wasn't true. The way he'd been standing there, the way he'd been watching me specifically, it wasn't coincidental.

Jordan came back from his shower with a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still dripping wet.

"Feel better?" I asked.

"Much. Nothing like a hot shower after a good match." He grabbed clean clothes from his dresser. "Hey, you want to grab dinner in a little while? There's supposed to be pizza in the dining hall tonight."

"Sure, sounds good."

But even as I said it, I was dreading leaving the room again. What if Ace was out there waiting? What if he decided to confront me again, this time without Jordan there to back me up?

I shook my head. I couldn't live like this, constantly worried about running into him. This was my school too and I had just as much right to be here as he did.

By the time we left for dinner, I'd managed to convince myself that I was overreacting. Ace was probably just trying to get in my head and the best thing I could do was not let him.

The dining hall was crowded and loud, filled with the usual Friday night energy of students ready for the weekend. Jordan and I got our pizza and found a table with a couple of guys from his tennis team.

The conversation was easy and normal, mostly about weekend plans and upcoming matches. For a while I almost forgot about Ace entirely.

Then I saw him walk in.

He wasn't alone this time. He was with two other guys who looked like they could be on the hockey team too, both of them big and intimidating. How many friends does he keep? Why is he friendly with everyone except me?

They got their food and sat at a table on the other side of the room but I could feel Ace looking over at us periodically.

"Earth to Max," Jordan said, waving a hand in front of my face. "You're doing that thing again where you zone out."

"Sorry. What were you saying?"

"Dave was asking if you wanted to come to a party tomorrow night. It's at one of the upperclassmen's apartments off campus."

I looked at Dave, one of Jordan's tennis teammates, who was grinning at me expectantly.

"I don't know, I'm not really a party person."

"Come on," Dave said. "It'll be fun. Good way to meet people."

"I'll think about it."

But I wasn't really thinking about the party. I was thinking about how Ace kept glancing over at our table and wondering what he was planning.

When we finished eating, Jordan and his friends decided to go to the rec center to play pool. I begged off, claiming I had homework to do, and headed back to our room alone.

I spent the rest of the evening trying to study but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was building toward a confrontation.

Ace wasn't the type to just let things slide and I had the distinct impression that he was working up to something bigger than just hostile looks and snide comments.

I went to bed early but had trouble falling asleep. Every sound in the hallway made me tense up, wondering if it was Ace coming back to his room across the hall.

Saturday morning I woke up determined to have a better day. I went for a run around campus, grabbed breakfast by myself, and spent a few hours in the library working on assignments.

It was peaceful and normal and I started to think that maybe I'd been worrying about nothing. Maybe Ace would just leave me alone from now on.

That optimism lasted until basketball practice that afternoon.

Something had shifted in me since that call with my Nathan the day before. I was done holding back, done letting Ace's words echo in my head while I was trying to play.

I played harder than I ever had, every drill, every scrimmage, I gave it everything. Sweat poured down my back but I didn't care.

During a full court scrimmage, I stole the ball from Jake, one of the seniors who'd been giving me attitude since day one, and took it coast to coast for a layup. On the next possession, I locked him down on defense and forced a turnover.

"Damn, Rivera," he said, breathing hard. "Where'd that come from?"

I didn't answer, just got ready for the next play.

By the end of practice, people were looking at me differently. Some of them were impressed, some looked annoyed that the freshman was showing them up, but I didn't care about that either.

Two guys from the team, Chris and Malik, came over after we finished conditioning, bumping my shoulder and grinning.

"Dude, where were you hiding all that?" Chris asked.

"Seriously," Malik added. "You keep playing like that, we might actually win some games this season."

Coach Williams clapped me on the back as we were leaving. "That's what I like to see, Rivera. Keep this up and you'll have NBA scouts breathing down your neck before you know it."

I walked out of the gym drenched and exhausted but for the first time since arriving here, I felt something different.

I felt like I belonged.

The feeling lasted all the way back to the dorms. I was riding high on endorphins and confidence, thinking about calling Freya to tell her about practice, when I saw Ace waiting by the elevators.

He was alone this time, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and when he saw me coming his mouth curved into something that wasn't quite a smile.

"Well well," he said as I approached. "Heard you had quite the practice today."

I stopped walking, my good mood evaporating instantly. "What do you want, Ace?"

"Just making conversation. Word travels fast around here, you know. Especially when someone makes the varsity players look bad."

"I wasn't trying to make anyone look bad."

"No? Then what were you trying to do?"

I stared at him, trying to figure out what game he was playing. "I was trying to play basketball."

"Right. Basketball." He pushed off from the wall and took a step closer to me. "Tell me something, Rivera. Do you think my sister would be proud of the way you've been playing?"

The question caught me off guard. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, do you think she'd be proud to know that her boyfriend is out here trying so hard to impress everyone? Working so hard to fit in?"

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to do well."

"No, there's not. But there's something wrong with forgetting who you are in the process."

I felt my hands clench into fists at my sides. "You don't know anything about who I am."

"Don't I? I've been watching you, Rivera. I see how you act around your new roommate, how you try so hard to be what you think people want you to be. Makes me wonder what else you might be willing to change about yourself to fit in here."

The implication in his words hit me like a punch to the gut. "You're sick."

"Am I? Or am I just paying attention?"

The elevator arrived and the doors opened but neither of us moved to get on.

"Stay away from me," I said quietly.

"This is my school too, Rivera. I go where I want."

He stepped into the elevator and turned to face me as the doors started to close.

"Give my love to Freya when you talk to her," he said. "Assuming you're still planning to call her tonight."

The doors closed and I was left standing in the lobby, shaking with anger.

What was his problem? I hate him. I hate him.