Jake has been on autopilot for weeks. He wakes up when his alarms tell him to. He goes to class when he needs to. He eats when his body tells him it's time to eat. He sits with his roommates in the evenings because it's better than being alone. He laughs when he gets the cue to laugh, but even that sounds strangely hollow and fake. He knows they notice. He can see it in the way they exchange worried glances. But they don't comment on it, and for that, he's grateful. He doesn't want to talk about it.

He does his homework with almost a religious reverence, throwing himself wholeheartedly into it. He keeps his head busy with numbers and problems and critical thinking, and that helps distract from the void in his chest. He studies, and he fills up his thoughts with information, focusing on storing that away rather than thinking about how much he hurts and why.

Studying and homework have become easier. He knows how to focus through the homework and how to phrase his answers. He knows how to read through the text and decipher it into something he actually understands. He tries to focus on that and not on the person who taught him how to do it.

Not thinking about him is hard, though. He lurks in Jake's thoughts all day, hiding in the shadows, waiting for him to be distracted for just a moment before he starts to rise to the surface. His cute smile. His shy laugh. His pouting scowl. The way he glared at Jake with tears in his eyes when he told him sternly and firmly that there was no future for them and they should just never see each other again.

Bad thoughts.

He ignores those thoughts. He pushes them far, far away.

He's made it over the last big round of tests and papers, and he can see that his grades are steadily improving. It's not enough to kick up his GPA yet, but there's obvious improvement that'll allow him to keep his scholarship, as long as he keeps it up. He has proof that he's trying and it's working, though. He can see that his professors are impressed, and when he has his counselor meeting to discuss it, he seems impressed as well.

It's just a shame that while Jake smiled, he felt too numb to really feel proud. Especially when they started talking about how smart he was to go out and find a tutor, and then he just got stuck thinking about Kyle.

Kyle had, true to his word, lined up another tutor for Jake. He's not sure how he managed to find this guy, but he seems nice enough. He contacted Jake through their school email and sounded all professional and stuff. But Jake doesn't want another tutor. He'd rather suffer through it on his own. Maybe it's his stubborn pride talking, but it's working out just fine. Between make-out sessions and Jake staring helplessly at Kyle's profile, Kyle actually did manage to teach him good study techniques, and they've managed to stick. Jake is doing just fine on his own.

His grades aren't the only thing that's been improving. Jake's laser focus and hyper fixation have come in handy during practice as well.

He charges into each practice with the single-minded focus of a bull in an arena. He runs hard. Hits hard. Throws hard. He works and works and works until his body is exhausted and close to collapse. He takes every piece of advice that his coach has to offer and does his best to improve. He focuses entirely and hyper fixates on improving. He sees all the things he's doing wrong and all the things he could be doing, and he works. And he works. And he works.

He gets to practice early, and he's the last to leave.

He works until his muscles are screaming and his body aches, but he doesn't care. It keeps his mind clear, it feels good, and it helps him fall asleep at night before the thoughts he's been keeping at bay can catch up to him.

Distantly, he notices the affect it has on his teammates. He can see how startled they are at first. He can see how confused and rattled they are, and he can hear their whispers behind his back. He pays them no mind, focused wholly on himself and his own performance. Let them gossip. He doubts they'll ever come close to being right, anyway.

After the initial shock wears off, he actually notices his teammates rallying around him. Fall semester practice has always been slower and lazier than the spring. Spring is when the actual season starts, when they have to crack down and actually work hard. Fall is when they tend to goof off despite trying to stay in shape. But the semester is coming to an end, spring is coming up, and Jake is determined to do better and to be better.

And seeing his intensity, his teammates start to step up to the plate as well. They start to follow his example, cracking down on their own performances. He doesn't know if it's because they're inspired by him, because they don't want to fall behind, or because they don't want him to show them up. Whatever it is, it rallies a team wide improvement in focus and drive that isn't entirely a bad thing.

His coach, however, isn't fooled.

"Hey, Jake," the man says, leaning against the fence and watching as Jake goes at a round in the batting cages. And by a round, he means several rounds. The rest of the team has already left, and there Jake is, taking swing after swing.

"Hey, coach," he grunts as he swings, hits the ball, and resets his stance. He can feel sweat trickling down his chest, beading on his forehead, cold in the autumn air. "Need me to get out of here?"

"Yeah, but that's not what I came to talk to you about. You've been pretty intense at practice lately, and don't get me wrong, you're doing great. But I can't help but feel like there's something else going on. How've you been lately?"

Jake grits his teeth and swings, relishing in the jarring slam of the bat against the high-speed ball. He resets his stance. "Fine."

"Sure as hell don't look fine."

"I'm fine." Swing. Hit. Reset.

"Heard some gossip from the boys that your lady dumped you a month or two back."

Swing. Hit. Reset. "It was a mutual dumping."

"Jake, I say this because I care about my players, and while you've been doing great on the field, you need some stability off the field. It doesn't take a genius to see that you've been tense as all get out the past few weeks. The whole grades thing been stressing you out?"

Jake just hums vaguely, letting his coach believe that's all it is. Just him stressing out about grades. Not his tutor slash almost-boyfriend leaving him.

"Thought so. Exercise is great to get your mind off things, but there are other ways to relax. I know you don't have a girl right now, but you've never had trouble finding one. Maybe you should go out with the boys. Have some fun. Get laid. Would be good for you. Get that tension out before you work yourself into the ground."

The light goes off, indicating that his round is over. He lets the bat drop, straightening as he laughs. It sounds hollow and bitter, but he doubts his coach will notice. No one else seems to. How long has he been good at faking being happy? "Maybe you're right. Thanks, coach."

"Anytime, son. Now get out of here so I can close up."

The idea of getting laid makes his stomach roll. The idea of going out and finding a random girl to fuck, having it mean nothing, it makes him nauseas. Once upon a time, he might've been all over that. Not now. Something has changed, and he knows it has everything to do with Kyle.

Still, his coach might have a point. He is tense and stressed, and maybe he should get laid. He's been so hung up on Kyle for the past few weeks, barely daring to think about him but being caught up on him all the same. It's pathetic. Especially when Kyle made it extremely clear that he wants nothing to do with Jake anymore.

Jesus Christ, he's never been this hung up on a break up before, and he and Kyle weren't even officially dating.

What's wrong with him?

He's far too lost in his spiraling thoughts and doesn't see Cindi until it's too late. She's waiting for him outside the practice field, leaning against the fence with an air of impatience that smoothly fades into something more coy at his approach. He hasn't seen or heard from her much since their break up, but she looks exactly the same. Waiting for him exactly like she has before. Hot, confident, sexy, but strangely enough, it doesn't do anything for him anymore.

"Hey," she says, pushing off the fence and sauntering over to him, hips swinging.

"Hey," he says, and doesn't stop until she puts herself in his path, blocking his way and putting a hand on his chest. He looks down at it, brows pinching with confusion as he looks up to meet her eyes.

He knows that look. That's the look she used to give him when she wanted something from him. That gaze that's filled with lust that used to drive him crazy, but now he can see how disingenuous it is. How fake it is. How it's crafted to toy with him. How that lust may be real, but it's not for him. It's just a general horniness.

He frowns, sighing loudly. "What'd you want, Cindi?"

She leans in close, fingers toying with his shirt, her voice pitched low. "I just came by to see how you've been doing."

"Fine." It's a clear dismissal, but she doesn't get the hint.

"I forgot how hot you smell after practice, and how good you look playing." She leans in close, tilting her face toward his neck. He leans back, pulling away as he feels her breath against his damp skin.

"Cindi—"

"I've missed you, Jake." She reaches up, running her fingers lightly over his lips. And that's when the smell hits him. It's familiar and pungent, and it sends him reeling, but not for the reasons she no doubt wants. Her fingers smell like her vagina, her arousal, but instead of making him weak in the knees, it makes his stomach twist.

He catches her hand by the wrist, pulling it away as he steps back. She looks shocked as he glares at her. "If you just want a fuck toy, you can go find someone else. Or better yet, go buy one at the store."

Her surprise shifts quickly into indignant rage. She scowls, eyes narrowing as she snatches her hand back. He's not fooled, though. He can see the pink on her cheeks from her embarrassment at being called out. "Jake, what the fuck?"

"You don't care about me," he says, plain and simple, standing tall and meeting her glare with one of his own.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes as she crosses her arms over her chest, hip cocking out to the side. "Like you ever cared about me."

That makes the knot inside of him loosen, shoulders slumping slightly as his glare falls. "Actually, I did."

"If you really cared about me, you'd fuck me now. What's the matter? You're not with anyone. I'm not with anyone. You're still hot, even if we're not dating. If you really liked me, then you'd fuck me."

Something hits him then. It's the cold wash of clarity. It freezes in his chest before melting out through his veins, cool and calming. It eases the tension from his body, slithering as a welcome reprieve through his veins.

He realizes what he's learned from being with Kyle.

He realizes just how much of an asshole he's been.

He realizes who he wants to be.

He reaches out, putting his hands on Cindi's shoulders. She looks startled, staring at him with wide, confused eyes. He smiles, hoping it looks as genuine as it is. "I'm sorry." She gapes at him, and he forges on. "I'm sorry I never took the time to get to know you. I’m sorry no one has. You're more than a quick fuck, and you should be treated as such. And I'm sorry I never did that. I hope you can find someone who will."

He leaves then, walking away without waiting for a response. He leaves her looking shocked and confused, gaping and frozen.

He leaves her and everything she represents behind.

He feels like he's leaving a part of himself behind. A person that he once was and no longer wants to be.

He walks away feeling like a new man.

* * *

"Anyway," he says, swirling around the dregs of his coffee. "I think you were right. I'm thinking about going out to a gay bar or something tonight. Try to pick up a dude. I... I think I'm ready to explore that part of me."

Liddy sits across from him, lounging in her seat with one hand wrapped around her own coffee cup, finger tapping it idly. There's a lazy smile on her lips. It's the one she wears when she finds something privately amusing. "You know," she says slowly, gently tapping her cup on the table before lifting it to her lips. "For someone so pretty, you're not very bright."

Jake bristles, frowning as his eyes snap to hers. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She takes her time downing the rest of her coffee. When she's done, she sets it down, leaning forward to put both elbows on the table. Her grin is positively shark-like. "It means, Jakey boy, that you're being an idiot. Do you even realize that for the past hour you've talked about nothing besides Kyle?"

Jake blinks, frown fading. "What? No, fuck off, you're exaggerating."

"I'm not. I've even been timing you." She glances at her phone. "One hour and seven minutes to be exact." She glances back up, tilting her head to the side. Her piercings shimmer in the light. "I even tried steering the conversation away a couple times, but you just kept dragging it back to Kyle. You're really hung up on this dude, aren't you?"

Jake groans, slouching in his seat and running his hands down his face. "Fuuuck, I'm so sorry. I didn't even realize— Jesus, this is so pathetic. Yes, okay, I'm hung up on him, but like... that's getting me nowhere. What I need is to, you know, rebound..." He lets his hands fall, glaring at the wood grain on the table, brows furrowed. "Or something."

Liddy's laugh is light and airy, thick with amusement. And while he bristles, scowling at her, he can tell that she may be laughing at him, but there's no judgement there. "Has that ever worked for anyone? Fuck no. Rebounds are a terrible idea. Especially when you're this hung up on someone. What do you want, Jake?"

He frowns. "I want to get over—"

"I said," She cuts him off, sharply but not unkindly, eyes intense as she stares. He feels her pick him apart, ripping open his chest and leaving him vulnerable and exposed and raw. She smiles, reaching out to take his hands, voice softening in that way that always draws the truth out of him, whether he wants it to or not. "What do you want?"

It rushes through him, echoing out of that numb void in his heart and aching through his chest. It comes out in a whispered rush, a truth he can't deny but doesn't want to let loose. "Kyle."

Liddy's grin is wide, eyes dancing. "Then fucking fight for what you want."

Jake scoffs, rolling his eyes as hurt and hope fight within his chest. "It's not just up to me, Liddy. He has a say in this, too."

"You gotta fight for what you want, Jake. You're afraid of rejection, and you're afraid of not being good enough. That's been your problem for-fucking-ever. That's why you go after girls you're not interested in and who you know just want you for your looks. Because you're confident in your looks. Kyle makes you feel like a person. He sees more than just your looks. And you're scared it's not enough. But... think of it this way: maybe he feels the same. Maybe he's scared he's not enough for you."

Jake frowns. "That's not fucking possible. He's amazing, and so much better than I am, and—"

"Have you told him that?"

"I— of course, I have." He has, hasn't he? Kyle knows how he feels, doesn't he?

Liddy squeezes his hands, bringing his attention back to her. "Look, if you don't do anything, you're gonna end up regretting it. And I don't know about you, but I don't want to spend the next few months trying to pick up the pieces of your broken heart. From what you've told me, he wasn't a hundred percent behind the break up either. Sounds to me like he was just protecting himself. Go to him, dude. Bear your heart and open up to him. Let him see all of you." Her smile softens, head tilting to the side. "If you do that, no one can turn you away."

His smile is timid. "Thanks, Liddy."

"No problem, dude."

"Why did I let you go, again?"

She laughs, light and lilting. "Because you were an asshole and I wanted to fuck girls."

"If you were single, I'd snatch you up in a heartbeat."

Her eyes lower, sweet tinged with sadness. Her thumbs brush over his knuckles. "It's no surprise I'm still a little in love with you, but... it's changed. It's a friend love now. And Becca has my whole heart."

Jake chuckles. "Becca would castrate me if I tried anything."

Her smile is gentle and fond. "Yeah. Yeah, she would." She shakes her head, patting his hands. "Anyway, get out of here, you big idiot. Go plan some grand gesture and get your boy back. Fight for your happy ending, dumbass."

He stands, leaning forward and kissing her quickly on the forehead. "Thanks, Liddy."