“Unchained Melody” — The Righteous Brothers
Vault Track:
“Hall of Fame” by The Script ft. will.i.am
Invisible String
Ali
The A/C roared against the sticky Georgia heat, blasting her with the sharp scent of lemon-scented air freshener and something vaguely plasticky from the vents. Ali leaned her head toward the cool stream, her blonde waves fluttering slightly in it, as Taylor Swift sang about devils rolling dice and angels rolling their eyes on the radio. Fitting, it seemed. She gripped hersparkling, maroon clutch a little tighter in her lap as they took the interstate exit and began the slow climb toward Peach Cove.
The summer sun hung low in the sky, casting golden light across the trees. Long shadows of mossy oaks danced across the windshield. The further they drove, the more it felt like stepping into a time capsule— a place that had held some of her best memories… and her worst.
Someone in the back seat of Abigail’s dark green Range Rover (thank Godshedidn’t have to drive here) made a joke about sequins versus sneakers and the car erupted in laughter, but Ali only smiled faintly, eyes flicking to the familiar landmarks. Her stomach was tangled in nerves, excitement, dread, and something else— a soft ache that sat just beneath the surface. She hadn’t been back here in a decade.
She blinked out the window as they passed the corner where Sandytown still thrived with students— the one she and Daisy used to haunt religiously. Her lips curved, unbidden.
“She cried because she didn’t get the peach Stanley cup in her bid basket,”Daisy had said once, dramatic and gorgeous.“Then she tried to trade someone for theirs like it wasTheHunger Games.”
Ali had nearly choked on her pimento cheese sandwich, laughing.
Daisy had always been the center of the room, confident and bold and unfiltered. And back then, Ali had loved basking in her orbit. Their friendship had been easy— until it wasn’t.
The car turned onto Tide Drive, and something caught in Ali’s throat.
Up ahead, Russell Stadium rose in the distance, its towering lights already glowing against the hazy blue dusk. The giant screen glinted in the sun, reflecting back the late summer sky. Her breath hitched.
The Reef.
That’s what they’d called it. Everyone had. Students, locals, even the announcers during game broadcasts. It wasn’t just a stadium; it was a whole ecosystem. A place of wild cheers, stomping feet, painted faces, and roaring pride in a sea of navy and maroon.
She could still remember the electric thrill of sitting in the student section pressed between Daisy and some girl from Daisy’s sorority, waiting for Dylan’s name to be called. The crowd had gone feral when he jogged onto Stowers Field, helmet tucked under one arm, the number 13 stretched across his back.
She’d never told anyone, especially not Daisy, how hard her heart had raced each time.
Now, a decade later, it felt like that same heartbeat was rattling against her ribs.
She’d see him tonight. She was almost certain of it. And she wasn’t ready.
Not for his voice.
Not for those eyes.
Not for the ghosts she’d tried so hard to leave buried here.
The banquet hall glittered with soft gold lighting and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Russell Stadium. Even in the off-season, the field glowed under the lights, every blade of turf crisp and green, like the game could start at any moment.
Inside, glass vases held floating candles and navy hydrangeas, and crisp white linens covered every table. The air was cool and perfumed with catering spices and designer cologne, buzzing faintly with alumni chatter and clinking glasses.
It was elegant. Expensive. Nothing like the undergrad formals of her memory.
Along the far wall, the silent auction drew a steady stream of attention. Some of the prizes were charmingly expected— gift baskets with wine and cheese, autographed memorabilia, aweekend retreat to Savannah, passes to the exclusive golf club on Hilton Head Island. But the centerpiece was unmistakable.
A framed teal Orlando Tritons jersey, the silver number 13 gleaming beneath the lights. Beneath it, a digital display glowed:
Donated by: Dylan “Mac” McKenzie, Magnolia Bluff U Class of 2015, Suma Cum Laude
Ali stared at it for one breath too long.
