Chapter 172: Chapter 172 - Where No One Could See
Practice lasted barely forty minutes.
Coach Miller watched them go through stretches, light counts, and one lazy run of the routine before he clapped his hands once.
"That’s enough."
Everyone stopped.
Karen blinked. "Did we die? Is this heaven?"
Coach Miller pointed at her. "Keep talking and I’ll revive practice."
Karen zipped her mouth shut.
Coach Miller looked over the group, his eyes moving from tired face to tired face. "You have finals. You have Formal tomorrow. You have bodies that need sleep whether you believe in that or not. Go home."
A few girls cheered weakly.
Roxie almost did too.
Her legs felt heavy. Her head felt stuffed with cotton. Even her ponytail felt like it weighed too much. She grabbed her cheer bag from the bleachers and followed Karen and Angela toward the doors.
Angela was still talking about Caleb’s tie.
Karen was pretending she didn’t care while clearly caring because she asked three very specific questions about Angela’s dress.
Roxie let their voices pass around her.
She was too tired to join properly.
Outside, the cold hit her cheeks. The sky had already gone dark, and the lights around the school made the parking lot look too bright in patches and too empty everywhere else.
"Need a ride?" Angela asked.
Roxie adjusted her bag. "I’m walking with Zac."
Karen looked at her. "In this cold? Terrible boyfriend behavior."
"It’s five minutes."
Angela frowned. "Are you sure?"
Roxie nodded. "Go home. Text me your dress."
Angela smiled. "Okay."
Roxie smiled and waved them off.
She waited until they left the parking lot before cutting toward the side path behind the school.
The cemetery sat beyond the low fence, quiet and dark under the winter sky. The school lights reached only the first few rows of headstones. After that, everything softened into shadows.
Roxie used to hate walking through here.
Now she looked for him.
Zac stood near the old maple tree, hands in the pocket of his hoodie, shoulders hunched slightly against the cold. His hair was pushed back. His face looked tired, but when he saw her, something eased.
Roxie smiled before she could stop herself.
That was embarrassing.
Also unavoidable.
She walked toward him, stepping carefully around the flat stones near the path.
"Margaret still good?" she asked.
Zac glanced at the headstone beside him, then grinned. "Yeah. We’re besties now."
Roxie stopped in front of him. "That’s disrespectful."
"She likes me."
"She’s been dead for eighty years."
"Exactly. Low standards."
Roxie laughed, and Zac’s smile softened like the sound had done something to him.
He reached for her first.
Just one hand at her waist, careful and familiar.
Roxie stepped into him.
Their lips met in a quick peck, then another because one felt rude. His arms came around her, warm and solid, and Roxie let her forehead rest against his chest for a second.
He smelled like soap, cold air, and his hoodie.
Her whole body relaxed too fast.
Zac’s chin lowered near her hair. "Tired?"
"Extremely."
"Finals?"
"Survived. Probably."
"Probably is passing."
"Probably is scholarship approved."
His arms tightened a little.
Roxie closed her eyes.
For a moment, there was only the cold cemetery, the faint hum of traffic, and Zac holding her where nobody from school could see.
Then she pulled back enough to look at him. "Your car?"
"Gas station," he said. "Just like you told me."
Roxie smiled. "Good boy."
His eyebrows lifted.
She blinked. "No."
His mouth curved. "I didn’t say anything."
"Your face did."
"My face is innocent."
"Your face is a liar."
Zac laughed quietly and took her hand.
They started walking through the cemetery path, fingers laced, their shoulders brushing every few steps. The grass was damp. The air bit at Roxie’s ears. Zac noticed and tugged her closer without saying anything.
Now that football was over, he had more time.
That should have made things easier.
Instead, it made the hiding stranger.
He no longer had film, drills, meetings, weight room, and Coach Hayes keeping every hour chained to football. He could wait for her after cheer now. He could stand in a cemetery like a very handsome criminal and walk her home with his car hidden at the gas station.
It was sweet.
It was ridiculous.
It still was not enough.
Roxie looked down at their joined hands. "Formal is tomorrow."
Zac’s thumb moved over hers once. "Yeah."
"I want to go with you."
The words came out plain.
No joke.
No cover.
Zac went quiet.
Roxie kept walking, but her chest tightened.
She hated that silence.
She hated that she understood it.
She hated that understanding did nothing to make it hurt less.
"I know," she said before he could answer. "We can’t go together."
Zac stopped walking.
Roxie stopped too, but she kept looking ahead at the cemetery gate.
"I know," she repeated, softer. "I’m not asking."
His hand tightened around hers.
That small pressure almost broke her.
"I want to," he said.
Roxie swallowed.
"Yeah," she said. "Me too."
The wind moved through the branches above them.
Zac stepped closer until his shoulder touched hers again. "Roxie."
She turned her head and forced a smile. "Just make sure Janice isn’t beside you when I walk in."
For half a second, he only stared at her.
Then his face changed.
Relief passed through it so clearly she felt it in her own chest. He looked relieved that she had answered for him. Relieved that he did not have to say the thing that would hurt her. Relieved and guilty at the same time.
Then he grinned.
"Fine."
Roxie pointed at him. "I’m serious."
"I know."
"If she breathes near you, I’m throwing punch on both of you."
"There’s punch?"
"There better be. I need a weapon."
Zac’s grin softened. "I won’t stand with Janice."
"Or Bianca."
His face flattened. "That was never on the table."
"Or any girl who looks at you like you’re a charity project after losing State."
Zac winced. "That specific?"
"Very."
He looked down at their hands. "Who are you going with?"
"Karen and Angela."
"Angela has Caleb."
"Yes, but Karen has violence, so it balances."
Zac huffed a laugh.
They kept walking.
At the cemetery gate, Zac glanced toward the gas station down the road, then back toward Roxie’s street.
The bungalow looked quiet when they stepped inside. Too quiet, like always, but less sharp with Zac behind her. Roxie dropped her bag near the couch and kicked off her shoes.
Zac locked the door after them.
That small thing still got to her.
He did it like he belonged there.
Like checking the lock, taking off his hoodie, and sitting on her couch had become part of his body.
Roxie grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and pointed to the TV. "Movie?"
Zac looked amused. "Are you going to watch it?"
"No."
"Then yes."
They ended up under the blanket with a movie playing low in front of them. Roxie had no idea what it was called. A man in a Christmas sweater kept arguing with a woman near a bakery, which felt like enough plot.
Zac leaned back against the couch.
Roxie curled into his side, her cheek near his shoulder, one leg tucked under her. His arm went around her like it had always belonged there.
For a while, neither of them said anything.
She listened to his breathing. Felt the warmth of him. Let her eyes close and open and close again.
"You’re falling asleep," Zac murmured.
"No."
"You answered with your eyes closed."
"I’m resting visually."
His chest moved under her cheek with a quiet laugh.
Roxie smiled against his hoodie.
His hand moved slowly over her arm, up and down, steady enough to make her body heavier. The movie kept playing. The tiny living room glowed blue and gold from the screen. Outside, a car passed and disappeared down the road.
This was the dangerous part.
The quiet.
The normal.
The way he fit beside her.
The way her house stopped feeling abandoned when he was in it.
Zac’s phone buzzed on the coffee table.
Neither of them moved at first.
Then it buzzed again.
Roxie opened her eyes.
Zac reached for it, looked at the screen, and his face shifted. Only slightly, but she saw it.
"You okay?" she asked.
He smiled, but it was smaller now. "Yeah."
The phone buzzed again in his hand.
"Just Mom calling."
Roxie’s stomach tightened.
Miranda.
The name did not need to be said.
Zac stared at the phone for a second longer, then silenced it and set it face down on the table.
Roxie looked at him. "Are you sure?"
He leaned back and pulled her closer again. "Yeah."
But his jaw stayed tight.
The movie kept talking in the background.
The phone stayed quiet for maybe thirty seconds.
Then it buzzed again.
Zac closed his eyes.
Roxie already knew.
The room had changed.
He kissed the top of her head. "I should go."
She hated how calm he sounded.
She hated more that he was probably right.
"Okay," she said.
He looked at her, like he knew she meant the opposite.
"I’ll text you when I get home."
"You better."
He smiled faintly. "Bossy."
He stood and pulled his hoodie back on. Roxie stayed on the couch because standing would make it feel too official. He picked up his phone, checked the screen once, and put it in his pocket.
At the door, he turned back.
For one second, he looked like he might stay anyway.
Roxie almost asked him to.
The words sat right there.
Stay.
Sleep here.
Pick me tomorrow.
Love me where people can see.
She swallowed them.
It was not the time yet.
Zac crossed back to her instead and bent down. His hand touched her cheek, careful and warm, and he kissed her softly.
"I love you," he said against her mouth.
Roxie closed her eyes. "I love you too."
Then he left.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Roxie sat there under the blanket, staring at the empty space beside her.
The movie kept playing.
The phone in Zac’s pocket was probably buzzing again somewhere between her house and the gas station.
She pulled the blanket tighter around herself.
The place beside her was still warm.
She wanted him there.
She wanted his weight against her, his breathing near her ear, his stupid comments during movies he was not watching. She wanted the version of them that did not have to hide cars at gas stations and meet near cemetery gates.
But wanting did not make it safe.
Not yet.
Roxie looked at the screen and let the movie continue without understanding a single word.
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