“Come on, Declan. Come on,” I murmur under my breath.
Declan makes eye contact with a wide receiver fartherdown the field. Throwing it from where he stands would be a fifty-five-yard pass across the field.
Almost half the football field.
There’s no way he could make it. He glances toward the opposition, checking if anyone is close to tackling him while he decides who to throw to.
He makes a face of resolve, and there’s something about it that I just know. He’s going to attempt the half-field throw. He’s insane. There are NFL quarterbacks who wouldn’t be able to complete that pass.
A millisecond passes as he grinds his lips together, pulling his arm back as far as it will go before launching the football with all his weight. It soars so high for so long that everyone seems to hold their breath. Our wide receiver continues running full speed toward the end zone, tracking the football with unrelenting concentration.
It lands perfectly into his hands. And he’s so far from any defenders that he casually strolls into the end zone, slamming the ball down and roaring in pure ecstasy.
The game-winning touchdown.
Every single person in the bleachers jumps up, including me. The commotion is so sudden it feels like an earthquake.
“YESSSSSSS!” I join the crowd, fists pumping in the air.
“SEABROOK! SEABROOK! SEABROOK!” they chant.
The screams of joy ripple through the crowd as the realization dawns on them. Declan might lead us to the state championships for the third year in a row.
Everyone stampedes down the metal stairs at once, charging onto the field to lavish the football players with praise. My eyes furiously scan the turf for one person. There are so many bodies cheering at once. It adds to the commotionfilling my head. There’s blood pounding in my ears. But I have no one to share my joy with until I find him.
Find him. Find him—my body thrums with energy.
The bleachers have cleared out, so I’m left standing alone, using the vantage point to look for Declan.
I spot him.
He’s the only one standing still amid the maelstrom. People are running back and forth, pumping their fists, picking up teammates in bear hugs, and putting them back down. Cheerleaders’ pom-poms are cascading in formation.
But Declan is standing still, looking at me. It feels like a lock clicking into place when our eyes meet. A wordless understanding.
I sprint down the stairs as fast as my legs will take me, and I’m immediately thrown into the crowd, shoulders bumping into me at my eyeline.
I push through and run toward him. The smile overtaking his face cheers me on. It’s the kind of smile that bubbles up and can’t help but take over your entire face, demanding to be seen.
The satisfied relief etched into his body language at the sight of me feels rewarding in a way I can’t describe. The feeling of being equally wanted in a place you already craved to be.
He stretches his arms out for me to leap into.
So I do.
I jump, arms wrapping around his neck, the shoulder pads of his uniform giving me purchase, and my legs follow suit, wrapping around his middle. He spins me in a circle, and our breathless laughter bursts into each other’s necks. His warm breath tickles my ear as he slows, and for a moment, I panic, knowing that when I look at him from this position, somethingsubstantial will have changed between us. The tectonic plates of our friendship are shifting. Whatever happens next will be the aftershock.
I pull back to look at him, and instantly I just know. Maybe it’s the mixture of longing and hesitation in his eyes. Maybe it’s the excitement of having just won the game or the sounds around us dimming our better judgment, but somehow, we both come to a silent agreement. He leans in, not giving me a second to hesitate.
Our lips meet, and the crush of them together sends shock waves through my entire body. Having imagined how his lips would feel beneath mine a thousand times only adds to my elation.
It’s happening. It’s finally happening, I think.
He pulls away slowly, seeming to savor the moment equally as much as he disbelieves it’s happening. I actually giggle; the sound is light and giddy, like a child’s surprised delight at seeing bubbles for the first time—a sound I’ve never heard come out of me. He responds with a low chuckle, vibrating the dense air between us.
My feet find the ground, and I stare up at him. My cheeks must be burning crimson. I’ve wanted this for so, so long. And if anything, the first thing I feel is vindication; it wasn’t just me feeling the spark—I wasn’t the only one harboring hope for a future where we were more than just friends.
“How long,” he breathes, urgency in his tone.
