Chapter 5 Is There Only Training in Your Heart?

Stephanie's POV

"What?"

"Ditching you like that."

I fell silent.

I didn't want to trash Lorenzo in front of his family, but Christopher's question cut straight to the heart of what was wrong between us, and there was no way to dodge it.

"He... sometimes does," I finally said.

The car went quiet again. Christopher didn't push. This time the silence wasn't awkward—it felt more like we were both lost in thought.

About twenty minutes later, the car pulled up in front of my dorm.

I unbuckled my seatbelt and turned to him. "Thank you for the ride."

"No problem." He nodded and pulled a business card from his jacket pocket, holding it out to me.

"If Lorenzo does this again, or if you need help with anything, call that number."

I looked up, surprised, trying to read more from his expression, but he'd already turned his gaze back to the road.

"Thank you." I took the card.

"Stephanie."

I paused and looked back at him.

"Take care of yourself," he said. "You deserve better than this."

For the next two weeks, I threw everything I had into training.

Deborah was right—I had to stay sharp and couldn't let my personal life mess with the competition.

Every morning at six, I was already warming up on the field. At nine at night, I was still in the studio, drilling my moves over and over in front of the mirror.

"Perfect." After our umpteenth full run-through, Deborah clapped, a rare smile crossing her face.

"Girls, keep this up and we're taking regionals."

Only then did I let out a long breath.

Everything seemed to be getting back on track. Except during water breaks, there'd still be the occasional whisper from the corner of the studio.

"I heard Lorenzo was at the coffee shop with that sophomore lit major again yesterday."

"Seriously? Does Stephanie know?"

"Who knows? She's captain—she's swamped."

I twisted open my water bottle and took a long drink, acting like I was just hydrating, pretending I hadn't heard a thing.

Emily came over and sat down next to me, concern written all over her face.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine." I smiled at her. "Let's focus on training. Don't worry about them."

"I'm not talking about them." Emily dropped her voice. "I mean Lorenzo. You two lately... it seems like you barely talk."

My hand froze on the water bottle.

She was right.

Since that dinner at Lorenzo's house, our contact had been dwindling.

He was always at practice, at parties, at team events that mattered to him.

And I was just training. Training nonstop.

We still texted every day—good morning, good night, I love you.

But our hearts seemed to be drifting further and further apart.

"We're both really busy," I said.

During lunch break, I sat alone on the steps outside the studio. Sunlight spilled across the concrete. I pulled out my phone and after a long hesitation, finally dialed a number I'd almost forgotten about.

The phone rang a few times before someone picked up.

"Stephanie." My mom Irene Thornton's voice came through, background noise loud behind her. "Why are you calling now? Is something wrong?"

"No, Mom." I gripped the phone tighter. "I just wanted to ask when you and Dad are coming back."

Silence on the other end for a few seconds.

"Honey, didn't we just video chat last week? Your dad and I won't be done with the Brookhaven project until at least next month." Irene's voice carried obvious guilt.

"You know how important this project is to us. What's going on? Do you need money? I'll have your dad send some over."

"It's not about money." I bit my lower lip. "It's the championship—they moved the date up. It's next Saturday. I was wondering... if you could come back and watch."

An even longer silence.

"Baby, you know we'd love to be there." Irene's voice softened, but her answer didn't change.

"But the round trip would take at least three days, and we're at a critical phase. We really can't step away. How about this—we promise to watch the livestream, okay?"

My throat tightened. After a moment, I finally made my voice sound relatively steady. "Okay."

"Good luck, sweetheart! I know you'll be amazing! When this project wraps, we'll come home and spend real time with you, take you on a trip, okay?"

"Okay."

"I have to run—the client's waiting. Love you, baby."

"Love you too."

The call ended.

I sat there on the steps, phone still in my hand, for a long time.

I should've been used to this by now. Since middle school, every parent-teacher conference, every recital, every big competition—they were almost never there. Always working.

At first, I'd cry, throw fits, lock myself in my room and refuse to eat. Eventually, I learned to stop hoping.

But this time was different. This was my last regional championship in college, my first time as captain, and my last.

I thought they'd come.

My phone buzzed again. A text from Lorenzo: [Team dinner tonight, can't do dinner with you. I'll make it up tomorrow.]

I stared at the message and suddenly felt bone-tired.

I typed back one word: [Okay.]

Then I turned off my phone, stood, brushed the dust off my shorts, and walked back into the studio.

"Keep going," I told myself.

I poured everything into every move, forcing myself not to think about the things that hurt.

Once again, I trained until ten. I was still the last one to leave.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and slowly made my way down the stairs.

My phone rang. I fished it out—Lorenzo calling.

I answered.

"Babe! Where are you?"

Music blared behind him—it sounded like a full-blown party.

"Just finished training. Heading back to my dorm."

"This late? Stephanie, you can't keep doing this every night. You're gonna burn out."

"The championship got moved up—it's next Saturday," I said. "I have to train harder."

"The championship again." His voice carried clear frustration. "That's all you ever think about—training. How long has it been since we actually went on a date? Three days? Four?"

I stopped walking.

"Lorenzo, this competition is really important to me," I said.

"And I'm not important?" His voice suddenly spiked.

"Stephanie, you're still hung up on Jessica, aren't you? I already explained everything, and I brought you home to meet my family. Isn't that enough? What more do you want from me?"

Listening to Lorenzo's accusations, I suddenly felt drained, body and soul.

"What do you mean 'enough'? Jessica was obviously flirting with you, and you didn't shut it down right there—you only explained it to me later. That's supposed to be enough? The first time I came to your house, you ditched me there and took off. That's supposed to be enough?"

My voice rose without meaning to. Days of exhaustion and hurt suddenly surged up all at once.

"You say we haven't been on a date in forever. But have you actually paid attention to me? Do you even know the championship got moved up? Do you know what time I'm training until every night? Do you know my parents can't make it to my competition again?"

Silence on the other end for a few seconds.

"So that's your excuse for freezing me out?" Lorenzo's voice went cold.

"Because your parents aren't coming to your competition, you have to make me miserable too?"

"That's not what I meant..."

"Then what do you mean?" He cut me off. "Stephanie, you're all over the place—I can't keep up with you. Can you just grow up?!"

Grow up?

I froze.