Moments later, the team appears.
The crowd erupts as the players jog over, rowdy and triumphant, grinning like warriors fresh off the battlefield. Dylan and Tony fist bump each other while the rest of the team piles on Hayes, slapping his back as if he’s the second coming. That’s what happens when you throw six touchdowns in a single game.
I notice Hayes’s jersey is soaked with Gatorade, because of course it is. Over the years, I’ve learned that football teams love nothing more than dumping coolers over the MVP. I’ve watched Hayes get doused with more neon sports drinks than I can remember.
Still, even dripping wet and flushed from adrenaline, he’s annoyingly attractive. Like he just walked off a film set. Night-black hair clings to his forehead in damp waves, droplets trailing down the sharp line of his jaw. His jersey is plastered to his chest, outlining every muscle, and his piercing blue eyes spark with the thrill of conquest—alive, electric, dangerous. He looks like trouble.
The good kind.
The kind you want to run to, even when you know you should be running away.
He scans the crowd, searching, until his eyes find mine. Our gazes catch and the noise around me fades. It’s just him and me, standing on opposite sides of a raucous mob, tethered by something we never seem able to name.
He grins that crooked, devastating smile I know by heart and lifts a hand in a slow wave. For just a moment, it feels like high school again. Back when everything between us was simpler. Before he started pulling away, and I never had to wonder if he’d make time for me.
But then?—
Amber barrels through the crowd, squealing as she launches herself at him. He catches her with ease, arms wrapping around her in a full-body embrace. The moment she realizes he’s drenched, she lets out a dramatic shriek. He just laughs and shakes his wet hair at her, flinging droplets across her dress like it’s some inside joke between them.
Something petty and sharp uncoils inside me. Itlooks like my sister has everything back on track. And judging by the smile tugging at Hayes’s mouth, he doesn’t seem to mind.
Amber laces her fingers through his and leads him over to where Mom and I wait. I glance away, forcing the jealousy down, reminding myself there are bigger things to worry about than my sister’s attempts to resurrect an old romance. Even if it’s with the one person I care about in a way I wish I didn’t.
“Good game, Hay,” I manage, the words catching in my throat.
“Thanks, Alligator.”
He grins—and before I can react, scoops me into his arms and lifts me off the ground, spinning me around in a blur of lights and cheers. The world tilts and vanishes. All I feel ishim. Strong and solid. Arms locked around me like I belong there. He holds me almost like I’m his.
Even if I never really will be.
Unlike my sister, I don’t care that he’s drenched in some sticky sports drink or messing up my outfit. I lean in closer, greedy for him and for the feeling of being held like this. I could stay wrapped in this moment forever.
He sets me back down all too soon. My feet hit the pavement though my heart’s still somewhere up in the clouds. I stumble back, lightheaded and a bit giddy.
“Whoa. Careful,” he says, steadying me. His hands linger on my shoulders—strong, grounding.
“Great game!” my mom says brightly. “I’m so proudof you, Hayden.”
“Thanks, Mel.” He pats his chest where her lumpy necklace is still tucked beneath his jersey and pads. “I owe it all to your good luck charm.”
“My pleasure, hun,” she says, smoothing down her hair. Then she leans in like she’s revealing top-secret intel. “I saw some men in suits in the stands. I think they were NFL scouts.”
“Probably.” He shrugs. “I try not to focus on that stuff.”
“Must be nice,” I say, only half joking.
Hayes was recruited by every top school in the country without even trying. He could’ve gone anywhere he wanted. Ivy League. Full Division 1 football powerhouse. But no. He chose to stay here at a tiny college in our hometown.
I still think he’s insane, but his parents wanted him close. His family’s old-school, deeply traditional. His father is expecting Hayes to eventually take over their billion-dollar international shipping empire. As the only son and heir, Hayes is expected to run the family business one day.
“I still can’t believe you’re both in college now. And Amber’s next.” Mom sighs, a little wistfully. “Sometimes I wish I’d finished school. Gotten my art degree,” she says, getting misty-eyed as she tousles Amber’s hair. “But then I got knocked up with Alysander and then Ambrosia, and, well… there went that.”
“Mom!” Amber jerks away, horrified. “How many times do I have to tell you—it’sAmber!”
Up ahead, the coach gives Hayes a wave and jerkshis thumb toward the locker room. A few players start jogging toward the doors.
“I should head in,” Hayes says, hesitating. There’s something in his eyes that looks reluctant, like he’s not ready to leave just yet. “Thanks for coming tonight. Really—it means a lot.”
