"Yeah. You?"
"Nervous as hell, but yeah." He bumped my shoulder. "Rosie's in the stands. Front row. Wearing your jersey."
"I know. I can always find her."
"That's disgustingly romantic." But Aaron was smiling. "Go make her proud."
"Plan to."
The roar of the crowd hit us as we emerged onto the field. I scanned the stands automatically, finding section C where I knew she'd be.
There were Rosie, Nova, Ivy, Daisy, and Brooklyn, all wearing various Titans jerseys, all on their feet, cheering. Rosie caught my eye and pressed her hand to her heart.
I've got you. You've got this.
I touched my chest in return.I know.
The referee called the captains for the coin toss. Max jogged to midfield while I took my position, bouncing on my toes, feeling the familiar pre-game adrenaline.
This was it. Everything I'd worked for. Everything we'd worked for.
The whistle blew.
Northridge came out exactly as expected. Fast, physical, and aggressive. Within the first five minutes, Marcus Foxton had already gotten a yellow card for a late tackle on Maddox.
"That’s all you got?" Maddox taunted, getting to his feet.
"Just warming up," Marcus shot back.
The game was brutal from the start. Northridge's defense was tight, their offense relentless. By halftime, we were down 1-0, and frustration was mounting.
In the locker room, Max addressed the tension head-on.
"They're in our heads," he said bluntly. "That's their strategy: get physical, talk trash, make us lose focus. And it's working."
"So what do we do?" Liam asked.
"We stick to our game. We don't let them dictate how we play." Max looked at each of us. "They want us emotional and sloppy. We're going to be calm and precise. We're going to play our soccer, not theirs."
He turned to me. "Derek, I need you ready. When we get that opening, I need you to take the shot. No hesitation."
"I will."
"Good. Because we're going to create that opening." Max's confidence was infectious. "Second half, we come out strong. We play smart. And we win. Clear?"
"Clear," we echoed.
The second half was a completely different game. We controlled possession, moved the ball with precision, and slowly wore down Northridge's defense.
In the 58th minute, Maddox broke through on the left side. His cross found Max at the edge of the box. Max took one touch and passed it to me.
I was one-on-one with the keeper.
Time slowed. I could hear my heartbeat, feel every muscle in my leg, and see the exact spot where I wanted the ball to go.
A defender closed in from behind. The same angle, the same situation that had paralyzed me before.
But this time, I didn't freeze.
