The shower tiles were cracked in a few spots—reminders that the locker room hadn’t been updated since long before Dylan set foot on campus. Still, nothing about it bothered him tonight. Not the busted faucet handles or the flickering fluorescent lights. Magnolia Bluff had just beaten the Paladins, their biggest conference rival, under the stadium lights, and every single hit, sprint, and call had been worth it.
He ran his hands through his wet hair, letting the hot water hammer over his neck one last time before cutting it off. His body ached in that satisfying way—bruised but not broken, worked but not worn out. Game nights like this felt like the reason he’d put in all the extra hours. The 6am lifts, the late-night film study, skipping parties and ignoring texts he didn’t want to answer.
He was laser-focused. Always had been.
And tonight, it had paid off.
The locker room was alive with celebration— guys blasting music, slapping helmets, and shouting half-coherent chants. His teammates had doused Busby in Gatorade on the field. Dylan had ducked that mess on purpose. That was for the cameras, not for him.
He toweled off quickly, pulling on a pair of jeans and a gray MBU athletic tee, then layered his navy Tau Delta Epsilon zip-up over the top. His fraternity wasn’t just some social flex for him— it was his place. His brothers were some of the few people he trusted, guys who understood the pressure without needing him to explain it. At the TDE house, he didn’t have to be perfect. He just had to show up.
He slung his duffel bag over one shoulder and checked his phone.
Daisy:
Party at the House is already wild. You better hurry, Big Bro. I told Ali she HAD to go and you know she hates these things.
He shook his head, smiling. That was Daisy. Forever the social butterfly.
Not that he minded the Ali part.
There was something about her— quiet but not timid, observant in a way most people weren’t. She was soft around the edges, but sharp underneath. He’d noticed the way she shrunk in crowds, but never when Daisy was around. Like her best friend gave her permission to take up space.
He didn’t know why he kept noticing her. But he did.
And now, apparently, she was coming to the party.
Dylan grabbed his keys from his locker, gave a few nods and back-slaps to teammates on the way out, and stepped into the night. The stadium behind him still buzzed with leftover energy, the kind that clung to your skin long after the final whistle. Music was already drifting from the frat houses on Row, bass thumping in the humid air.
He headed toward the TDE house, the porch lights glowing like a beacon through the live oaks.
Let the night begin.
Dylan leaned against the kitchen counter, a sports drink bottle in one hand, the buzz of the Tau Delta party pulsing through the house. Music from the living room blended with the sound of laughter and the occasional pop of a beer tab. His body was still loose from the post-game adrenaline, but his mind was wandering— until Daisy appeared in the doorway.
Her cowgirl boots tapped across the tile as she made her way in, dress swaying, concern written across her face.
“Hey,” she said, nudging him gently. “Can I ask you a favor?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Sure. What’s up?”
“It’s Ali,” Daisy said, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear. “I think she’s freaking out. Like, she said she was going to head back to the dorm, but I don’t think she really wants to. She just gets overwhelmed sometimes, you know how she is.”
His heart gave a slow, deliberate thump.
Daisy glanced over her shoulder. “I tried talking her down, but she’s halfway out the door, and honestly? I think you’re the only one she might actually listen to. Can you…maybe just check on her?”
Dylan nodded before she even finished the sentence. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”
Daisy smiled, a soft, grateful look that reminded him of when they were kids. “Thanks, D. She really likes being here. I just don’t want her to leave because she got in her own head.”
“I’ve got it,” he said, already heading toward the front door.
Sparks Fly
Ali
The bass from the party thumped through the floorboards of the old Tau Delta house, vibrating up through Ali’s sneakers as if her body was just another part of the beat. She stood near the wall, inching closer to the front door with each passing minute. Her fingers tugged at the hem of the shorts under the skirt part of her skort— again. They kept riding up, the clingy fabric twisting uncomfortably high on her thighs.
