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I frown. “What are you talking about? She didn’t do it on purpose. She didn’t know what was happening. Didn’t even know I was there.”

A crease forms between Sienna’s brows. “Really? Everyone’s saying you two had an argument because of our kiss, and she did it to hurt you.”

Damn. Rumors travel fast, and this one is a load of crap.

“Not that it’s anyone’s business, but it’s not her fault,” I grit. Face lifted, I scan the courtyard. Where the fuck is Ash? Lunch started ten minutes ago.

“Hey.” Turner appears, voice hoarse, a deep frown etched onto his face. “Can we talk?”

Sienna touches my arm again. “Do you want me to leave?”

I stare at her, stunned she even has to ask.

I missed school yesterday. Dad got me in with a sports medicine doctor quickly, hoping to get the fracture healed right away. Today, the second I showed up, I sought out Sienna and told her we aren’t dating. I said it clearly. Twice.

So why the hell is she still glued to my side? She’s acting like if she stays close enough for long enough, I’ll magically change my mind.

Fuck that.

I drag a hand through my hair, irritation pulsing under my skin. “I already told you, we’re not together.”

Her smile doesn’t even flicker. “That’s not what I asked.”

That’s exactly the problem. She keeps asking the wrong questions, hoping I’ll give her the answer she wants.

I eye Turner and then nod to her. “Yeah, I want you to leave.”

She pushes out her bottom lip in a ridiculous pout, but then she stands and walks away. “See you in class.”

Turner sits across from me. His posture is tense, one balled fist resting on the table.

“Are you gonna talk, or are we going to stare at each other?”

“I’m sorry about your hand.” He sighs. “Injuries suck, and without you, wins are gonna be a lot tougher.”

“Thanks.”

“I wanted to clear the air. We may not get along, but I don’t want animosity to grow between us and affect the team.” He shifts his weight, grimacing slightly. “I shouldn’t have told you about Isla’s move to Boston. It wasn’t my place; it wasn’t Ash’s either. She deserved to tell you herself.”

I grind my teeth, my jaw cracking. “She had plenty of chances. She didn’t care to tell me.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” he says quietly. “She’s your best friend.”

A sharp pain slices through my chest. “Was. She was my best friend.”

He frowns. “Have you even talked to her? She was beside herself with worry after what happened to your hand.”

“Why would I?” I deadpan. “She told me to never talk to her again, so I’m giving her exactly what she wants.”

He hesitates. “I really don’t think she meant⁠—”

“I don’t care what she meant,” I growl. “Look, she made her choice. She chose her career. She’s moving to Boston. Good for her. She’s…she’s nothing to me now.”

The words hang between us, heavy and so untrue.

He studies me for a moment, and what I swear is pity flickers in his eyes. “Right,” he finally says, standing. “Anyway…thanks for hearing me out.”

When he’s gone, I sit for a few more moments, focusing on breathing evenly. Then, with a grumble, I throw my backpack over my shoulder and stand as well. This day can’t be over soon enough.