May

My infatuation with cameras began at the ripe age of six. My dad had this vintage camera that he planned on throwing away, only to find it in my grubby little hands filming my brother and the Brown brothers throwing mud at each other in the backyard.

Then at age 12, for mom's birthday I presented her with my very first film which may have exposed all the crap my brother and his two idiot friends did but nonetheless, my parents were proud of how well it turned out. Despite my brother being pissed at me for getting him grounded and gave me the silent treatment for a solid week -I eventually won him over with his favourite chocolate-, I wanted nothing more than to film every possible moment.

So, it confused the utter fuck out of me as to why I was suddenly deprived of doing the only thing I did best.

I gaped at my lecturer after I excitedly told him about the new technique, I wanted to try out for filming the interviews since today was the first day of shooting only for him to say-

"You're not going to be touching any of the equipment, Ms. Willson." Mr. Allen's tone left no room for argument, but I had to know his reasons.

"Why not?" The four of us had already discussed who was going to be in charge of audio and filming and who would be asking the questions. Sam was going to be asking the questions while I managed the camera. Rosa was going to do the lighting and Maggie the audio.

"Because others you have previously worked with have said the same thing over and over again." He waved his hands in a motion that suggests he was searching for the correct words to say, then snaps his fingers almost enthusiastically. "That you tend to 'hog' the camera." He dryly responded. "Give the others a chance to experiment with the camera, Ms. Willson." He demanded.

"But-"

"Now, if you will excuse me, I have pressing matters to attend to and you're making me late." He slips on his sunglasses and throws his bag over his shoulder before leaving me alone in the open passageway. My shoulders miserably sag as I trudge my way towards the parking lot. Once I'm seated in my car, suppress a childlike tantrum and alternatively start banging my head against the headrest.

My phone rings from my bag and I don't bother looking at the caller ID before answering, "Hello?" And instantly regret it.

"Is this hell's hotline? I'm hoping you could put me through to May Willson, please." Kade's poor attempt at a joke fills my ear and the faint sound of guys yelling at each other in the background.

"Why and how the hell do you have my number?" I asked harshly enough to almost make me feel bad for taking my frustration out on him even if he was 98% of the time the cause of that frustration.

His low chuckle vibrates through my ear, "Oh don't worry, I'll be deleting your number immediately after because I'm almost certain it'll give my poor phone hives."

Rolling my eyes, "I'm hanging up now-"

"Your mom's been trying to reach you." He spoke over me and has me raising a brow. I put the call on speaker and started the car.

"Why did she ask you to call me?" She could have easily asked Luke or even Dylan to contact me.

"Luke's phone is shattered and Dylan said you must have blocked his number." He explained. Oh, shit I completely forgot about blocking Dylan's number after one of our recent and many disagreements about our certain situation.

"Oh, I didn't have the chance to check my phone today." I quickly change the entire course of the conversation before his curious tone leads to unwanted questions, "Did practice end yet?" I was pulling up to the stadium parking lot.

"Cute of you to think I'd waste my energy on talking about your situationship with my brother but to answer your question yes, practice has ended." I nearly choked on my saliva at his retort.

Oh my God. Does he know? If he knows then...

I shiver as I stop myself from continuing that thought "I don't know what you're-"

"Call your mother Mayo." He said before hanging up. Before I could properly process what the fuck just happened, Mom's name flashes across the screen.

"May sweetie!" Mom's warm voice sends a heavy wave of nostalgia right through me despite the utter and literal fear I feel after the phone call with Kade. Maybe he doesn't know, maybe he's assuming things. But the voice in the back of my head screams in reminding me that he wasn't the type to make assumptions unless they were true.

"I have been trying to get through to you all day!" Mom's voice momentarily snaps me out of my anxious hurricane of thoughts.

"Hi, mom." I said as I make my way closer to my appending doom.

"Oh no, what's wrong?" Concern bleeds through her voice makes me sigh. My mom stresses quite fast due to her crippling anxiety, and Luke and I tried our best to not make her stress or fall into another episode as much as possible now that we're both away at college. I'm just grateful that she has dad with her.

"Oh nothing, just tired from all the piling assignments, classes, and sassy lecturers, but I'm coping." Although it was a half-truth, it was better than straight-up lying to her when I'm convinced she has the superpower to smell whenever I wasn't telling the truth.

"That's college for you baby." Dad's voice pitches in loudly and I chuckle when mom scolds him for scaring her. I turn the corner and greet a few of the guys on the team as I walk to the meeting room and scan the room and find Luke talking with Drew the captain.

"Get your brother on the phone, we need to discuss something." Mom demanded suddenly serious and even surprises me when she switches the voice call to a video call. Her dark curls were tied to a cute little bun to the nap of her neck, and Dad leaned over her shoulder to get in the frame. I wave at them and smile before getting Luke's attention.

He jogs over and instantly flashes a toothy smile at the sight of our parents, "Hey there parentals." Throwing an arm over my shoulder he greets them once we've found a quieter place to talk to them better. I guess he doesn't know -my traitorous gaze finds Kade laughing with his friends- yet.

"Lucas Choi-Willson. I am not impressed with your recklessness." Mom scolds him in Korean, making it known that she is not in the mood to joke around. "How did you forget that you were swimming with your phone in your pocket?"

I snicker when I remember the videos and pictures from the ice hockey party a few days ago, even though I wasn't there, Carmen went and said that she's never seen him get so drunk to the point of playing strip tease in a damn swimming pool.

"Mom, I'm getting my phone back tomorrow, and then you can yell at me on my phone." Luke answers innocently enough to ease Mom's scold, and Dad chuckles despite not fully knowing what they are talking about.

Luke and I were drilled into speaking Korean to Mom and grandma the moment we could even start speaking. Dad knows a few phrases here and there but is too lazy to learn the language.

We catch up for a few minutes before Maggie waves me over to her, "Alright, as much as I'd love for us to continue, I have a project to get started on." With that and a few 'I love yous,' we end the call.

"I'm never partying to cure a broken heart ever again." Luke shakes his head as if he is having war flashbacks instead.

I snort, "You're being overdramatic." I rolled my eyes at my brother before making my way over to the setup.

***

"And that's a wrap for today's interviews. Thanks, Drew." He smiled when he sees the look of guilt on my face. "I'm really sorry that we worked this late." We were only able to interview four senior players after their practice and time got ahead of us that's how we ended up interviewing Drew last.

"It's no problem, though I am going to get an earful from Avery for coming home late." He chuckled softly as he checks the time on his wristwatch. "See you guys tomorrow." He waved us goodbye as Sam and I begin packing up. It was already 7:45 pm.

Maggie had to leave early for choir practice at her church, and Rosa disappeared with Trent Rivera sometime while we interviewed Drew.

"Shit, hey May, do you mind taking the equipment? I have a date with Cody." He gave me a sheepish smile, and like the people pleaser I happen to be, I tell him it's no problem and practically chasing him away when he offers to help carry the rest of the equipment to my car.

I'm out of breath when I haul the bags over my shoulders and trudge my way over to the deserted parking lot with only my car left.

As carefully as I could, especially with the heavy ass bags filled with hundreds of dollars' worth of cameras and sound equipment, I tried my best to hurry to my car due to the uncomfortable and sadly familiar feeling of fear I get whenever I'm walking alone, at night, in a parking lot.

Oh, how I love being a woman.

My mind was too preoccupied with ways and scenarios on how to defend myself like the total badass I convinced myself to be when I felt a hand tap my shoulder.

I let out a blood-curdling scream and started trying to kick the living shit out of whoever just touched me.

"Jesus, May! It's me." My heart was still beating at a rapid rate when I recognized his voice.

"Dylan!?"

"You scared the crap out of me!" I exclaimed, my voice trembling slightly as I caught sight of Dylan, crouched in the most awkward position imaginable. It took me a few seconds to piece together what had happened. My eyes widened in horror as realization dawned. "Oh my God, I kicked you in the balls, didn't I?" I gasped, clapping a hand over my mouth as he winced, slowly straightening up with a pained grin.

"I'll live. I hope," he chuckled weakly, clearly trying to downplay the pain he was in, though his strained expression told me otherwise. He must've noticed the mix of guilt and panic across my face because he quickly gestured to the bags slung over my shoulders, trying to shift the focus. "Let me help you with that."

I nodded, still too mortified to speak, and we silently loaded the bags into the back of my car. The silence that followed was deafening, a tension-filled void that grew thicker with each passing second, wrapping around us like a suffocating blanket. We turned to face each other, and for a moment, neither of us moved. The atmosphere was so heavy, so palpably awkward, you could almost slice through it with a butter knife.

Dylan shifted his weight, stuffing his hands into his front pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels—a tell-tale sign that he was as uncomfortable as I was. It was strange, how we could go from being so close to feeling like strangers in the span of a month.

"I'm sorry," we both blurted out at the same time, our voices overlapping in a tangled mess of words. I couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped my lips, breaking the tension for just a moment.

"You go first," I offered, crossing my arms over my chest as the warm evening air grew cooler.

Dylan hesitated, his heart was always his greatest strength and weakness, worn so openly on his sleeve for the world to see. Maybe it was because I'd known him for most of my life, but reading his expressions was second nature to me. And right now, beneath the guilt that clouded his pretty green eyes, there was something else-something deeper, something he wasn't ready to say.

"I'm sorry about scaring you earlier," he finally said, his voice softer, the words a half-truth. It was an apology, sure, but not the one he really wanted to give. There was more he wanted to say, needed to say, but I could see him holding back, the words caught in his throat.

I fought the urge to let out a heavy sigh, forcing a smile instead. "Yeah, and I'm sorry for almost not making you have children." My apology was far from perfect, but it was enough to get a genuine laugh out of him, the sound filling the empty parking lot. For a moment, things felt almost normal between us...almost.

But then the laughter faded, and we were back to where we started, just staring at each other. It had been a month since we'd decided to end things, and the pain of that decision still felt fresh, like an open wound that we kept tearing open. It hurt like hell, to be honest, more than I'd ever expected. Maybe it was because, for the longest time, my feelings for him had always felt one-sided. I'd had a massive crush on him growing up, and when he finally made the first move last summer, I thought it meant he felt the same way. But it just ended up feeling like we were using each other.

"I miss you," he whispered, his voice barely audible, yet the words struck me like a blow to the chest. I wasn't sure if he even realized that he had just said that out loud but I did, and it sparked something ugly inside me, a deep, anger I didn't even know I was capable of feeling toward him.

I took a deliberate step back, needing to put distance between us. "I should go," I said curtly, forcing a tight-lipped smile that felt as brittle as glass. "See you at tomorrow's interviews."

"Wait, May—"

I shook my head sharply, cutting him off. "Can we not have this conversation?" My voice cracked slightly.

Dylan hesitated, his expression a mix of frustration and something else, something like resignation. "I was just going to ask if I could catch a ride with you," he finally said, a sheepish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. I was grateful for the dim lighting in the parking lot, thankful that he couldn't see the flush of embarrassment that crept up my neck.

"Fine," I muttered, turning on my heel and walking toward the driver's side of the car. "Get in."