The final beat crashed. The dancers froze in glittering lines, and I struck my pose in the middle, foam paws raised high. The whistle blew, the crowd erupted, and the field began to clear.
I tugged at the Velcro under my chin, my lungs begging for air. Sweat was sliding down my spine, soaking my sports bra, and my hair was plastered against my temples. I wanted to rip the tiger head off right there.
But I couldn’t.
Not yet. Not while the team was still shifting onto the field.
The kickoff thundered, and the ball sliced through the air before vanishing into a blur of helmets and motion. The crowd roared, a single, pulsing wall of sound as players collided and the band blasted to life. The dance team peeled toward the benches,laughing and fanning themselves, their glitter catching the lights like scattered sparks.
“Take five!” one of the spirit coordinators called, waving me off toward the tunnel.
Grateful for the break, I grabbed a water bottle and jogged off the sideline, the tiger head bobbling with every step. My gaze wanted to stray toward the field to look at him, but I kept it straight ahead this time.
Progress.
Inside the tunnel, the noise faded to a hum as the crowd, band, and announcer blurred into the background.
I tugged the head off and let out a heavy breath. Cool air hit my skin, washing over my sweaty hair and flushed face. It felt incredible after the stifling heat inside the suit, the kind of relief that made my shoulders drop and my pulse slow. I took another deep breath, the air tasting clean and alive compared to the recycled heat I’d been breathing for the last quarter.
A whistle blew out on the field, high and urgent, the sound echoing down the tunnel. It was followed by a rush of noise that wasn’t cheering. The crowd’s roar shifted, rough and angry, and then I heard booing.
I froze mid-sip, the water bottle paused halfway to my mouth.
The announcer’s voice crackled faintly through the speakers, too muffled to make out over the commotion. Another whistle. Shouts. The restless wave of thousands of voices rising at once.
My fingers tightened around the bottle. I stepped closer to the tunnel entrance, light spilling over my shoes. I couldn’t see the field, only the edge of it, where shadows flickered in and out of the glare.
Then two figures came into view. A trainer, and beside him, Matty.
He was limping, one arm slung around the trainer’s shoulders for balance. His helmet hung from his hand, his other arm held tight against his ribs. Sweat stuck his hair to his forehead, and his face was set in a hard, unflinching line. He didn’t look at the stands, didn’t acknowledge the noise, just kept walking.
Each step looked like it cost him.
I stood there frozen, the tiger head heavy in my hands, my heart pounding so hard it made me lightheaded. My stomach sank like a stone.
He was coming straight toward me.
I fumbled for the tiger head, trying to lift it, but before I could get it over my face, he looked up. Our eyes met across the stretch of tunnel, and for a second, the rest of the world disappeared.
Shock flickered across his face, halting him mid-step. The trainer glanced at him in confusion, murmuring something I couldn’t hear. Then, slowly, his expression changed. The tension in his jaw eased, and a small, crooked smile tugged at his mouth…the kind that had wrecked me a hundred times before when I’d watched him direct it to someone else.
The trainer said something again, tugging lightly on his arm, but Matty didn’t move. His gaze stayed locked on me. That smile deepened, lazy and warm, and even from where I stood, I could see the faint dimple crease his cheek.
“Well,” he said slyly, “I didn’t realize the tiger was actually the most beautiful girl on campus.”
My face went up in flames. I could feel it, even through the heat still clinging to my skin. His grin widened like he knew exactly what he was doing.
“You’re blushing again,” he said softly, amused, like it was a secret only we shared.
My throat tightened. I swallowed hard and managed to find my voice. “Are you…are you okay?” The words slipped out beforeI could stop them, my worry too obvious for a person who was supposed to be a stranger.
He tilted his head, considering me. For a heartbeat, the smile faded, replaced by something gentler, almost tender. “I’m okay, baby.”
The wordbabyhit me physically. My knees went weak. I had to grip the edge of the tiger head just to stay upright, hoping he couldn’t see how my hands trembled.
He chuckled quietly, the charm sliding back into place. “So,” he said, the corner of his mouth curving again, “you gonna tell me your name yet? Feels like since we’re both so into school spirit, I deserve to know who’s behind the stripes.”
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even breathe. I just shook my head.
