Your Rival Saw Me Naked

Chapter 52

POV: Chase

I’m already in a bad mood when I hear my name.

Not spoken directly to me. Spoken about me.

I’m standing in the hallway outside the faculty offices, leaning against the wall with my hands shoved deep into my jacket pockets, pretending to check my phone while I wait for Zoey. She said she had to talk to one of her professors about competition logistics. I said I’d wait. That was a lie—I just didn’t want to go back to my room yet.

The door a few feet away is cracked open.

“…exceptional potential,” a male voice says. Calm. Professional. “She’s easily one of the strongest students we’ve had in years.”

Another voice responds, quieter but impressed. “Agreed. If she keeps this trajectory, she won’t just compete regionally. She could go much further.”

I know who they’re talking about before they say her name.

“Zoey Carter has the discipline most students don’t develop until graduate school,” the first voice continues. “She’s focused. Strategic. Self-directed.”

My chest tightens.

“That kind of student doesn’t come along often,” the other adds. “She could do real damage—in a good way.”

I press my shoulder harder into the wall, jaw clenched.

They don’t say my name.

They don’t need to.

I move away before they open the door and see me standing there like some ghost haunting the hallway. I walk fast, my steps uneven, the words replaying in my head on a loop.

Exceptional.

Potential.

Trajectory.

Words that don’t belong to me anymore. Maybe never did.

Zoey finds me ten minutes later, practically glowing.

“There you are,” she says, smiling. “I was looking everywhere.”

“Yeah,” I mutter. “Here.”

She doesn’t notice my tone—or maybe she chooses not to.

“You’ll never guess what I just heard,” she says, eyes bright, voice full of energy. “Two professors were talking about me. About my future.”

I force myself to look at her. “That so?”

“They think I could go further than the competition,” she continues, practically vibrating. “Like—beyond this year. Beyond this college.”

I nod slowly. “That’s… great.”

Her smile falters just a little. “You don’t sound excited.”

“I am,” I say quickly. “I just—long day.”

She studies me, searching. “They really believe in me, Chase. It made me think about possibilities. Like what comes next.”

Something sharp twists in my chest.

“Yeah?” I say. “And where do I fit in those possibilities?”

Her eyebrows knit together. “Why does it have to be about that?”

There it is. The distance. The shift.

“I’m just asking,” I say. “You’re talking about futures like I’m not standing here.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she replies. “I wanted to share it with you. Because you’re important to me.”

I laugh quietly. “Funny way of showing it.”

Her expression tightens. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Turning everything into a competition,” she says. “I’m not trying to leave you behind.”

“You don’t have to try,” I snap. “You’re already doing it.”

She exhales sharply. “This isn’t fair.”

“Neither is life,” I say. “You of all people should know that.”

She goes quiet, wounded. I hate myself for it—and still, I can’t stop.

“I thought you’d be happy for me,” she says softly.

“I am,” I insist. “I just… don’t know what to do with it.”

“Well, I do,” she says. “I want to keep going.”

The way she says it makes something sink in my stomach.

“I need to think,” I mutter, already stepping back.

“Chase—”

“I said I need to think,” I repeat, turning away before she can stop me.

I don’t go back to my room.

I wander campus instead, my thoughts spiraling, my chest tight. Every building feels like a reminder of how badly I don’t belong here anymore. How everyone else seems to be moving forward while I’m stuck repeating the same year, the same mistakes.

Near the library, I hear laughter.

I freeze when I recognize the voice.

Scott.

He’s leaning against the railing with a group of guys, animated, confident, like he owns the space. I try to slip past unnoticed.

“Hey,” Scott says loudly. “Look who it is.”

My shoulders tense.

“Didn’t think you’d still be around,” he continues. “College treating you well?”

One of the guys chuckles. “Man, I heard Chase peaked in high school.”

They laugh.

The sound is loud, careless, cruel.

Something inside me caves in.

Scott watches me closely, eyes sharp. “Guess some people don’t adapt.”

I don’t say anything. I don’t trust myself to.

He shrugs. “Not everyone’s built for second chances.”

I walk away before my hands start shaking visibly.

The words echo all the way to the bar.

Peaked in high school.

I order without thinking. Drink after drink blurs the edges, but the ache stays sharp. I stare into the glass, watching the liquid slosh, thinking about Eli. About how he never even got the chance to peak at anything.

About how I’m still here.

And how maybe I shouldn’t be.

Zoey texts me later.

Are you okay? You left so suddenly.

I stare at the message, my vision swimming.

Just tired, I reply.

Do you want to talk? she asks.

I almost say yes. Instead, I finish my drink.

By the time I stumble back to my room, it’s late. I collapse onto the bed, the room spinning gently. My phone buzzes again.

Zoey: I’m proud of you too, you know. Even if things are messy.

The words make my chest ache.

I turn the phone face down.

I don’t want to be here anymore.

The thought doesn’t feel dramatic. It feels practical. Like a conclusion I’ve been circling for weeks.

I don’t want to sit in classrooms where I feel stupid. I don’t want to watch Zoey outgrow me in real time. I don’t want to see Scott’s face every day reminding me of everything I lost.

College feels like a spotlight I didn’t ask for, illuminating how little I’ve changed.

I think about leaving. Dropping out. Disappearing into something easier. Something quieter. Somewhere expectations can’t reach me.

Maybe that’s cowardly. Or maybe it’s survival.