And wanted.
And maybe, finally, seen.
She reached up to grab his neck and before she could chicken out, she mumbled “I love you.”
Mine
Dylan
She saidI love you.
Right there in his favorite place in the world. The stadium he loved more than his own home. In front of the crowd. In front of half the damn country.
Alison Presley, the girl he had been low-key in love with since the day he was in 10th grade when she threw her leopard-print backpack in his Jeep, had just told him she loved him.
Then she kissed him again, whispered “I’ll meet you at your dorm,” like it was the most natural thing in the world, and slipped away into the crowd with her hood up and her cheeks flushed.
He was still standing there with his helmet in one hand and a stupid grin on his face when Coach wrapped an arm around his shoulders and dragged him toward the tunnel.
The locker room was chaos.
Teammates yelling, spraying water bottles, slapping shoulder pads. Cameras from the local news station were everywhere. Dylan said all the right things— thanked his offensive line, gave credit to the team, said they “trusted the process.” But inside? He was already gone. Already rewinding that kiss in his mind. Already hearing her voice again.
I love you.
Shower. Change. High-fives and hugs. The kind of post-game euphoria athletes live for.
And yet, as he walked toward the stadium parking lot under the sharp glow of floodlights, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, Dylan only had one thing on his mind:get home to her.
Then he saw Daisy.
Leaning against his Wrangler like she’d been waiting for hours. Hair curled. Lashes long. Wearing a slinky maroon dress he knew she picked just to stand out in the post-game crowd. She was scrolling on her phone like she didn’t have a care in the world.
“Don’t even say it,” Dylan muttered as he walked up.
Daisy slipped her phone into her tiny designer bag. “Don’t say what? That you’re about to ruin your night by skipping the best party of the year for a girl who probably left twenty minutes ago?”
He didn’t rise to it. Just yanked open his backdoor and tossed his gear inside.
Daisy crossed her arms. “You know she won’t go. She never goes. She can’t handle it. And I know you’re playing house right now, but you’re going to miss your entire senior year if you keep letting her drag you into her little emotional cave.”
He slammed the door to the backseat shut. “You done?”
“Dylan, come on. Just show up for thirty minutes. Make an appearance. I saved you a drink and everything.” She softened her voice, shifting into that sweet little sister tone she used when she was about to push just a little too far. “You know people are going to start talking. You’re the captain, the QB—”
“I’m also a grown man,” he said, jaw tight. “And the girl waiting in my dorm loves me. That’s where I’m going.”
Daisy’s face flickered. “God, she’s got you hooked.”
He didn’t reply. Didn’t have to.
Because he was already getting into the driver’s seat.
Already turning the key.
Already done listening.
He parked behind his dorm and took the stairs two at a time. His heart was pounding harder than it had during the final drive of the game. It was stupid. He knew she’d be there— she said she would—but still. The second he unlocked the door to his suite and saw her purse on the hook, he exhaled.
