A silent acknowledgement.I saw you, and you did good.
—
Joshua
The cheer from the stadium followed me off the pitch. Teammates clapping me on the back and students chanting my name.
None of it mattered.
Not when all I could see was her.
Aurora Campbell, halfway down the bleachers, tugged along by Aly, shielded by Matthew, steadied by that fucker who can’t seem to acknowledge what personal space meant. Miles. She shouldn’t have looked back. She never looks back at me.
But she did.
And then, like it was nothing, like it was the smallest, quietest thing in the world, she lifted her hand.
A thumbs up.
Not for the crowd. Not for the other players. For me. Personally, just forme.And fuck, it felt good.
By the time I made it into the changing room, my pulse was still pounding like I was mid-match. I sat on the bench, jersey damp, cleats still tied, staring at the wall.
She came…
How did I not see her when I walked out? She clearly stood out, yet my eyes didn’t catch her.
It would’ve been nice to get a pre-game motivation, but I guess I got another prize at the end instead. Still a win.
I don’t know how long I sat there replaying it. The slam of the ball into the net. Her soft clap. That impossible look. The thumbs up. Over and over, like a film I couldn’t stop.
It wasn’t until the door banged shut that I blinked back to the room.
Empty.
The laughter, the slamming lockers, the shuffle of footsteps. Gone. I glanced down at myself. Jersey still stuck to my skin. Boots laced tight. Not even a sock pulled off.
I hadn’t moved. Hadn’t changed. Hadn’t done a damn thing. Because I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Aurora Campbell.
I finally dragged the jersey off, swapped it for a black tee, and shoved my stuff into my duffel. The room was quiet now, just the hum of the air vents and the dull ache in my muscles. I pushed the locker door shut, grabbed my phone off the bench, and headed for the exit.
Outside, the air was sharp, and I quickly grabbed my phone to check the weather to make sure it wasn’t going to rain, but before I could, my eyes went to the text notification at the bottom. The team’s group chat.
Hayden: Hey, Cap. Still hosting?
Right. The after-match thing. I’d agreed earlier in the week when the guys asked if I’d throw something for the team,in caseshe came.
My thumb hovered over the screen before I typed back:
Me: Yeah. Seven.
A reply pinged almost instantly.
Ollie: Yes! Good job today, Cap. See you at yours.
I stared at the message until the phone dimmed. Then I unlocked the car, dropped my bag in the passenger seat, and sat there for a second, fingers tight on the steering wheel, completely forgetting about checking the weather.
