Chapter 5

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tw: sexual assault

Flynn was three jerseys in when the gym doors creaked open, the noise echoing the vast space and reaching her wildly thumping heart.

"Hey," she managed a nervous grin as Miguel pushed his way inside, planting himself in the doorway. The Diaz boy stared at her with huge eyes and a stunted smile, making her shake with laughter. "Oh my God, Miguel, just come over here. You're fine."

I'm the one that's scared.

The dark-haired boy made his way for the round table she was situated at. He eyed her in confusion as she pressed a cricket iron against a black T-shirt. "What is this?"

"I'm making the team shirts. I was supposed to do it at yesterday's practice, but, well..."

"Yeah," Miguel acknowledged the unspoken explanation, letting his backpack plop against the bleachers.

A sudden rush of hot, aching pain cramped her chest and Flynn could feel anxiety push against her ribcage. It felt as though something would burst from inside her and obliterate her in the process.

"So I stopped by your dojo last night," Flynn mentioned, opting to stall a bit longer. "Did some punching. The usual."

The Diaz boy perked up at this. "Really?"

"Yeah," Flynn nodded, peeling a Teflon sheet off of her freshly ironed jersey. "He wouldn't want me to tell you this, but I think Sensei Lawrence misses you."

"Did you say anything to him?" Miguel pressed, amber eyes glowing.

"Uh, yeah. Just that your mom might need further convincing. Why?" She asked with a hesitant smile.

"Really?" His features brightened, mouth squishing his cheeks into fat creases. "Cause she told me last night I can start training again! Clearly you must've helped!"

Flynn jerked her chin back in disbelief, eyebrows knitted together. "Nah, I don't—wait, holy shit," her expression flattened into one of shock. "That's fucking awesome, Miguel!"

"Right?" His grin spread impossibly wide as they connected hands with a high five. "So what did you want to talk about?"

His words sent sharp aches of anxiety blossoming in her chest, her tongue swiping the dryness of her lips. "About yesterday," she paused, swallowing as if it would dismiss the heaviness pressing against her throat.

"Oh," Miguel spoke into the silence, perching himself on the edge of the table. Flynn waited, thick with indecision. She abandoned her task in favor of joining him.

"I don't know what Demetri's told you about me," she started, suppressing the urge to groan at her pathetic tone. "But, um, well there's just...something you should know. Before you fully invest in this friendship."

"Okay, now I'm really scared," Miguel's shoulders stiffened like boards, his eyes forgetting to blink. "Did you kill somebody?"

His serious tone caused a bark of laughter to escape her, her fingers resting on her folded knees. "No, Miguel! I did not kill somebody!"

"Well, that's how you sound right now," he protested with a grin. One that was hushed by the new haze of remorse clouding the girl's face.

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