“But Stella, seriously. Why’d you say no to moving in?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Okay, Miss Tarot Cards, the one who always tells me to trust my instincts and not second-guess myself.”
She gasped dramatically, switching to her overly sweet Southern belle voice.“Bless your heart, darlin’, you couldn’t be talking about little old me.”
That had me laughing. Ansel has lived in Virginia for ten years, so her Southern accent is barely noticeable most days—but every so often she turns it on thick. The kind of lilt that feels like freshly brewed sweet tea on a sunny Sunday afternoon.
“Yes, I’m talking about little old you. Ansel, I panicked when he mentioned living together. It felt like a giant neon sign flashing in the back of my mind—telling me to fucking run.”
I watched my best friend take that in.
“Stella, if you’re that worried about it, then you did the right thing. You know I’ll stand by you, no matter what. I got you, babe.”
We spend another 45 minutes chatting about Colin; she has been dating him for a few months now.
“Stella, it’s been like two months now, and he won’t even let me cop a feel. We talk about art and art history. On more than one occasion, we have discussed my parents' art galleries in great detail, and I mean every single one of them. You know there are a lot.”
“Oh, Ansel, maybe he is just an old-school romantic and wants to charm you before letting your slutty little hand into his pants.” I make an overly animated winky face at her.
“Also, he is a fucking art history major; of course, he’s going to come in his pants when talking about your family's art galleries. Hell, I think I have had an orgasm once or twice when we have gone to a gallery dinner.”
Ansel chuckles and agrees; we say our I love yous and hang up the phone.
I roll over on my side to face my giant window, with the curtains open. I have an astonishing view of Downtown Agave Hills. I guess that is one bonus of living on the side of a mountain.
I drift off to sleep, unsure about how things with Donovan and me were left.
We will figure things out as we go.
Right?
Donovan
Over the following months, Stella and I found a steady rhythm in our new lives.
Coach Headstrom’s been teaching me the ins and outs of coaching a prestigious football program. At Virginia Bay Prep, winning isn’t enough; it’s about legacy.
Our goal? Scouts are watching at least 80% of our roster. Seventy percent of them land college offers. Anything less? That’s not Virginia Bay Prep.
We’re midway through the season, still undefeated. Every team we face wants to be the one that takes us down, because if you beat Virginia Bay Prep, recruiters will show up to see who took down the kings.
We’re running two-a-days. 5 a.m. sharp, and I still feel it in my bones by nightfall: warm-ups, weights, sprints, and endless footwork drills. We don’t just bark orders; we grind with them. Coach Headstrom always says,
“If you’re gonna tell them to be better, you better prove you can be better.”
After our hour and a half of drills, it’s time to hit the showers, and then we make our way inside the school for our hearty breakfasts.
Virginia Bay Prep not only offers a top-tier football program but also a meal plan that’s almost unfair for a school. The breakfast spread alone feels closer to a boutique hotel than a cafeteria—fluffy Belgian waffles with warm syrup, omelets made to order, bowls of fresh berries, and coffee strong enough to keep even the most exhausted athlete awake through first period classes. Even the bacon comes out perfectly crisp, stacked in silver trays like it’s waiting for royalty.
I teach two P.E. classes each day, Monday through Thursday. Once those are done, it’s straight into coaches’ meetings—watching game day reels, learning plays, even scouting the kids coming up in the upcoming years. It feels almost like a damn game of chess. Even in the middle of coaching, sometimes I catch myself thinking of her laugh—then I’m back to taking notes.
Once the day is over, we head out to the field, warm up, and spend the next two or two-and-a-half hours running play drills. If a kid isn’t getting the play, I step in and show them how the play should happen according to their position. I feel that this helps the boys understand that we aren’t just telling and yelling. They know we’re invested enough to show them how to improve.
It’s a rhythm, the field by day, her by night. And both leave me aching in different ways.
I get back to my tiny one-bedroom apartment, most nights alone. I eat whatever healthy meal that I prepared over the weekend while video chatting with Stella.
We are only a few blocks away, so we could really see each other every night. She felt it was important to have our space, to live alone, and to learn to do things alone.
