Chapter 4 The Cold Shoulder

• Jules POV
• I grab a sandwich and a bottle of water, scanning the crowded room for an empty table. That's when I spot them—a group of football girlfriends and team supporters sitting at their usual prime spot near the windows.
• Normally, as the coach's daughter and team liaison, I'd be welcome at that table.
• But today, when Veronica Clarke catches sight of me, she says something that makes the entire table turn to stare. Then, in perfect unison, they all turn away, continuing their conversation like I don't exist.
• The message is clear: You're not one of us anymore.
• I find an empty table in the far corner, as far from everyone as possible. The sandwich has no taste, but I force myself to eat. I need to keep my strength up for whatever's coming next.
• "Jules?"
• I look up to find Tyler Kane standing next to my table with his lunch tray. My heart jumps finally, someone willing to acknowledge my existence.
• "Hey, Tyler," I say, probably sounding more grateful than I should.
• "Mind if I sit?" he asks, already sliding into the chair across from me.
• Tyler's a wide receiver, one of the guys who's always been friendly but never quite made it into Ethan's inner circle. He's got an easy smile and confident swagger that most girls find attractive.
• "Thanks," I say, relief flooding through me. "I was starting to think everyone on campus had decided to pretend I don't exist."
• He laughs, but there's something in his eyes I can't read. "Nah, just... you know how it is. People are still processing everything."
• "I guess," I say, taking a bite of my sandwich. "It's just hard when everyone acts like I committed murder instead of just dating someone."
• "Well, to be fair," Tyler says, leaning forward slightly, "you did date your brother's best friend behind his back. That's got to sting."
• The comment catches me off guard. It's not wrong, exactly, but the way he says it feels pointed.
• "I know it looks bad," I start. "But Adrian and I, we really care about each other. We weren't trying to hurt anyone."
• Tyler nods thoughtfully. "I'm sure you weren't. But now that it's all out in the open..." He shrugs. "Maybe it's better this way. No more sneaking around, no more lies."
• Something in his tone makes me look at him more carefully. "What do you mean?"
• "I mean, you're free now," he says with that easy smile. "Free to date whoever you want. No more worrying about daddy's rules or big brother's approval."
• The words should be comforting, but they feel wrong somehow. Like he's misunderstanding everything about my situation.
• "I don't want to date just anyone," I say carefully. "I want to be with Adrian."
• Tyler's smile falters slightly. "Right, but Jules, come on. You've seen how he's been handling this, right? Dude's been avoiding you like the plague. Doesn't that tell you something?"
• The observation hits like a punch to the gut because it's true. Adrian hasn't called, hasn't texted, hasn't tried to see me since the photos went public. For all I know, he's relieved this is over.
• "He's probably just processing," I say weakly.
• "Maybe," Tyler agrees, but his tone suggests he thinks I'm being naive. "Or maybe he's realized this whole thing was a mistake from the beginning."
• Before I can respond, he reaches across the table and covers my hand with his. "Look, Jules, I'm not trying to be harsh. I'm just saying you deserve better than someone who disappears when things get tough."
• I pull my hand away, suddenly uncomfortable. "Tyler"
• "I'm serious," he continues, leaning closer. "You're smart, you're beautiful, you're Coach's daughter. Any guy would be lucky to be with you."
• The compliment should feel good, but instead it makes my skin crawl. This isn't about comforting a friend this is Tyler shooting his shot while I'm vulnerable.
• "I should go," I say, starting to pack up my lunch.
• "Jules, wait," he says, reaching for my arm. "I didn't mean to upset you. I'm just trying to be a friend here."
• "I know," I say, though I'm not sure I believe it. "I just... I need some time alone."
• I hurry out of the dining hall, Tyler's words echoing in my head. You deserve better than someone who disappears when things get tough.
• The problem is, he might be right.
• As I walk across campus, I catch fragments of conversations that stop abruptly when people notice me. Whispered words like "selfish" and "homewrecker" and "attention-seeking" follow me.
• By the time I reach the library, my last refuge but I'm barely holding it together. I find a study carrel in the basement stacks, as far from civilization as I can get, and finally allow myself to break down.
• Three days ago, I was Coach Rowan's daughter, Ethan's beloved sister, Adrian's secret girlfriend. I had friends and family and a future mapped out in familiar territory.
• Now I'm a girl with no money, no support system, and no idea if the person I sacrificed everything for even wants me anymore.
• My phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number: Heard you're available now. Want to grab coffee sometime?
• Then another: Single and ready to mingle? Hit me up.
• And another: Don't let the haters get you down. Some of us think you're hot.
• I turn off my phone and bury my face in my arms, wondering if this is what rock bottom feels like.
• *******
• I've been sitting outside the athletic training facility for twenty-three minutes, watching players come and go from their Thursday afternoon conditioning session.
• Every time the door opens, my heart jumps. Every time it's not Adrian, something inside me withers a little more.
• Tyler's words from lunch keep echoing in my head: You deserve better than someone who disappears when things get tough.
• But I need to hear it from Adrian himself. I need to look him in the eyes and ask why he hasn't called, hasn't texted, hasn't tried to find me since our world exploded two days ago.
• The late October air bites at my skin, but I pull my jacket tighter and stay put. He has to come out eventually.
• When the door finally swings open at 4:47 PM, I see him immediately. Adrian emerges with his gym bag slung over his shoulder, dark hair still damp with sweat, eyes focused on his phone screen.
• He looks tired. Worn down. But still beautiful in that way that makes my chest ache.
• "Adrian," I called out, standing up from the concrete bench.