Losing You

Hadley

If someone had told me last year that I’d be sitting on the steps outside the UGA dance building at 9:23 p.m., barefoot, sweating, and crying over how much I missed my boyfriend who lived less than two hours away, I probably would’ve laughed.

And then I would’ve cried anyway.

My legs are stretched out in front of me, calves aching, toes numb from being shoved into half-dead pointe shoes for the last six hours. The Georgia heat hasn’t gotten the memo that fall has started, and the concrete under me still holds onto the warmth of the day. My phone is balanced against my knee, Chase’s face filling the screen.

He looks exhausted.

Not in the “I stayed up too late gaming” way.

In the “my body is tired but my brain won’t shut off” way.

“How many laps?” I ask.

Chase blows out a breath and runs a hand through his hair, dark strands still damp with sweat. He’s sitting on the edge of his dorm bed, shoulders slumped, baseball cap tossed somewhere behind him.

“I stopped counting after twenty.”

“That’s… not human.”

He gives me a small smile. “Coach disagrees.”

I pick at the tape wrapped around my ankle. “I hate him a little.”

“Same,” Chase says. “But don’t tell him that.”

We’re quiet for a moment. Not the bad kind of quiet — the familiar one. The one that comes when you’ve already said everything important but don’t want to hang up yet.

This is our life now.

Late-night FaceTimes. Schedules that never line up. Two campuses. Two worlds. One very stubborn kind of love.

“You still coming this weekend?” I ask.

His eyes soften. “Yeah. After weights and pitching. I’ll leave straight from the field.”

Relief loosens something in my chest. “Good.”

He smirks. “Miss me already?”

“I’ve missed you since this morning.”

Chase leans closer to the camera. “I’ll be there, ballerina.”

I smile despite myself.

“Hey,” he says, leaning closer to the screen. “You still sleeping with my hoodie?”

“Obviously.”

A corner of his mouth lifts. “Good. It still smells like me?”

“Unfortunately.”

He laughs. And for a second, everything feels normal again.

We talk about nothing after that — my rehearsal, his roommate’s terrible music taste, the girl down the hall who keeps stealing my dryer — until the campus goes quiet and the sky has fully darkened around me.

I don’t tell him how hard today had been. How the choreography kept slipping through my fingers. How I’d almost cried in the locker room. How I missed falling asleep with my head on his chest more than I knew how to say.

Before we hang up, I say it. The same way I always do.

“I love you.”

His voice drops soft. “I love you too, Hadley.”

When the call ends, I hug his hoodie tighter around me and stare at the glowing windows of the dance building.

College is everything I’ve dreamed of.

It just isn’t everything I need.

By the time I get back to the dorm, my calves are screaming and my brain is still halfway stuck in the mirror-lined studio.

Ava’s sprawled across her bed, laptop open, highlighter between her teeth.

“How was dance for you?” she asks, muffled.

“I think my legs are filing a formal complaint against me.”

She laughs. “Good. That means it’s working.”

I drop my bag and kick my shoes off, immediately collapsing onto my bed. My phone buzzes.

Chase⚾️🥰

I smile and reply:

Ava peeks at my screen. “Boyfriend?”

“Unfortunately for the rest of the male population, yes.”

She grins. “How’s long distance treating you?”

I hesitate just a second. “Good. Weird. Hard. All of the above.”

Before Ava can respond, the door bursts open and Mia appears like she lives here — which she basically does.

“Tell me why I just watched a guy eat instant ramen dry in the hallway,” she announces.

“Please don’t,” Ava says.

Mia flops onto my bed, kicking her shoes off. “How’s Chase?”

There it is. The question I’ve started expecting.

“He’s good,” I say. “Exhausted. But good. He’s coming this weekend.”

Mia smiles. “I knew it.”

Ava’s eyes light up. “Wait — baseball boyfriend?”

“The one and only,” I say.

“Okay but that boy is absurdly hot,” Ava adds.

“Back off,” Mia says. “She’ll fight you.”

I laugh, but something in my chest tightens.

Because while campus is loud and bright and full of new faces, part of me still feels… split. Like my heart is in two different places at once.

Classes are already piling up. Dance is more intense than anything I’ve ever done. Chase’s schedule is tightening too — early mornings, longer workouts, new expectations.

We’re both chasing dreams that don’t slow down for love.

And for the first time since we were kids sneaking snacks into my bedroom and falling asleep to stupid movies, I wonder:

How do you hold onto something that beautiful when everything in your life keeps pulling you in different directions?

Mia bumps my shoulder. “You okay?”

I nod. “Yeah. Just tired.”

It isn’t a lie. It just isn’t the whole truth.

By the end of the first week, I learn two things about college:

1. No one sleeps.

2. You are never not tired.

My alarm goes off at 6:45 a.m., which should be illegal.

I roll out of bed, step on Ava’s abandoned hoodie, and nearly die before I even make it to my desk.

“Dance majors are insane,” Ava mumbles from under her blanket.

“You are one,” I remind her.

My mornings are all the things that don’t feel like me yet: Math. English composition. Intro to Biology. All prerequisits for a minor in Animal Science — my “backup plan.”

Dance is my heart, but it isn’t exactly known for job security. So I picked something that made sense for the other parts of me. I’ve always loved animals. The idea of working in a clinic someday, being part of something that heals instead of hurts — it feels steady. Safe.

I like safe.

By noon my brain is already fried.

I meet Mia outside the student center where she is juggling her backpack, iced coffee, and three textbooks.

“You look dead,” she says.

“I feel dead.”

Riley waves us over from a table. Ava’s already there, stretching her calves under the table like a psychopath.

We eat together every day now — the four of us — like some accidental family.

Mia talks about sports medicine labs. Riley complains about psych readings. Ava’s panicking over a choreography assignment.

And I sit there thinking about pliés and pitch counts and how many hours are left until I’ll see Chase again.

After lunch, the three of us dance majors head across campus to the dance building.

And that’s when the world shifts.

The mirrors. The floors. The music thudding in my chest.

Ballet. Modern. Composition. Rehearsal.

Hours pass without me noticing.

By the time we finally stumble out near sunset, sweat-soaked and starving, my body feels wrecked… but my soul feels awake.

This is it.

This is what I’m here for.

Still, when my phone buzzes in my pocket, I don’t even have to look to know it’s him.

Chase⚾️🥰

I smile to myself.

Busy. Beautiful. And already moving way too fast.

We’re absolutely feral by dinner.

The dining hall smells like pizza and fries and survival, and all three of us stand there staring at the options like we’ve just crossed a desert.

“I don’t even care what it is,” Riley says. “Just give me food.”

Ava loads her tray like she’s been personally wronged by the day.

We find a table, collapse into our chairs, and I’ve just taken my first bite when my phone buzzes.

Chase.

I don’t even hesitate.

I hit FaceTime.

His face fills my screen — sweaty, flushed, hair a mess, shirt nowhere to be found, lying back on his dorm bed like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

“Hey, beautiful,” he says, breathless. “Just got out of weights.”

I laugh. “You look like you just fought the gym and lost.”

He smirks. “You should see the other guy.”

Ava leans across the table. “Oh my God, I’m getting secondhand thirst.”

Riley squints at the screen. “Is he always like this?”

“Yes,” I say. “Unfortunately.”

Chase’s eyes soften when he looks at me. “I miss you.”

My chest does that stupid thing.

“I miss you too.”

I glance at the calendar app open on my phone. “Tomorrow needs to hurry up. Like… aggressively.”

He grins. “Say less. I’m leaving after morning practice.”

Ava makes a dramatic gagging noise. “Okay, I will absolutely be making myself scarce this weekend.”

“Thank you,” I tell her.

Chase laughs. “I appreciate your roommate’s sacrifice.”

Riley lifts her soda. “To love and boundaries.”

We all clink imaginary glasses.

For a second, everything feels perfect. Like this could really work. And maybe it still can.

The Saturday morning air still has that early-fall chill that makes your lungs burn just a little in the best way.

I throw on my sports bra, leggings, and running shoes and slip out of the dorm before Ava’s even awake.

Chase is still at practice.

I’m trying to kill time.

My route curves past the baseball fields.

I’m halfway down the stretch of gravel path when I hear it.

“Hadley?”

I slow, pulling one earbud out.

“Hadley!”

I turn.

Jake is jogging toward me from the field, sweat-dark shirt clinging to his back, cap turned backward, glove dangling from one hand.

My brain does a hard reset.

“Jake?”

He grins. “Thought that was you.”

I laugh. “What are you doing here?”

“UGA,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Recruiting worked out.”

I stop fully now, hands on my hips. “Chase did not tell me this.”

He shrugs. “Guess he figured you’d find out eventually.”

We stand there for a second, both a little breathless — me from running, him from whatever chaos baseball practice requires at eight in the morning.

“How’s he doing?” Jake asks.

“Locked in,” I say. “Same old Chase. Just… louder.”

“Yeah. That tracks.” He pulls his phone from his pocket. “Hey, you should probably have my number.”

I blink. “Why?”

He smirks slightly. “In case you need someone to scare off creeps and your boyfriend’s an hour and a half away.”

I roll my eyes but take his phone. “You act like I live in a crime documentary.”

“Preventative measures,” he says.

I hand it back. “Thanks, Bodyguard Jake.”

He nods solemnly. “It’s a calling.”

There’s something easy about the moment. Familiar. Safe.

Not romantic.

Just… solid.

“I won’t keep you,” he says. “Finish your run. But if you need anything—”

“—I’ll call the intimidating baseball man,” I tease.

He grins. “Exactly.”

I pop my earbud back in and jog off, glancing back once.

He’s already heading toward the field again.

My phone buzzes.

Chase⚾️🥰

My heart lifts instantly.

Everything is falling into place.

For now.

By the time I make it back to the dorm, my phone says I still have fifty-eight minutes.

Plenty of time.

My heart is still racing though.

I push the door open and drop my keys on the desk. Ava’s cross-legged on her bed with her laptop open, earbuds in, working on something that looks way too serious for a Friday afternoon.

“He’s coming,” I say.

She slides one earbud out. “Boyfriend with the baseball arms?”

“Boyfriend with the baseball arms.”

Ava grins. “How long?”

“About an hour.”

She immediately closes her laptop. “Cool. I’ll migrate to Riley’s. I already told her I was sleeping there anyway. You deserve your reunion in peace.”

“I love you,” I tell her.

“I know.”

She grabs her overnight bag, wiggles her eyebrows at me once, and disappears, leaving the room suddenly very quiet and very mine.

I take my time.

A real shower. Shave my legs. Wash my hair twice. Use the expensive lotion Janice had sent me in a care package.

I put on one of Chase’s old hoodies and a pair of soft shorts, clean the room without panicking, make the bed, straighten the desk, pick up Ava’s shoes. Not because Chase would care — his room probably looks like a small tornado lives there — but because I want things calm.

I check the mirror, pull my hair into a loose braid, swipe on lip gloss, and then sit on the edge of my bed, bouncing my knee, watching the clock like it owes me money.

Twenty minutes later:

Chase⚾️🥰

I’m out the door before my brain catches up.

He’s waiting near the entrance, duffel over one shoulder, cap backwards, hoodie hanging loose, that smile already forming when his eyes find me.

“Hey,” he says.

I launch into him.

He catches me without hesitation, arms tight around my waist, lifting me off the floor as I laugh into his shoulder.

“God, I missed you,” he murmurs into my hair.

“I saw you like… five days ago,” I say, breathless.

“Felt like five years.”

I pull back just enough to look at him.

Sweaty. Tired. Beautiful.

He kisses me like the lobby doesn’t exist, like we aren’t in the middle of campus, like I’m the only place he’s been trying to get to all week.

When we finally pull apart, his thumb brushes my cheek.

“Come on,” I say. “Before Ava comes back and charges you rent.”

He laughs and follows me upstairs, fingers laced through mine, our hands fitting together like they always have.

Everything feels right again.