“I think you broke him,” Bishop says, handing me some nachos. “I’ve never seen him this distracted before a game.”
“Is that bad?” I ask, suddenly worried I’ve messed with his concentration.
Killian shakes his head. “Nah. Watch, he’s going to play out of his mind today. Nothing motivates my brother like having something to prove.”
“What does he have to prove?” I ask. “I already told him I love him.”
“That he deserves it,” Mari says quietly beside me, and her insight hits me square in the chest.
The first quarter flies by in a blur of action. Shepherd plays like a man possessed, making perfect throws, evading defenders like he can see the future. The crowd roars with every completed pass, but I’m watching him differently now. I can see something in him that maybe I’ve never fully noticed before, a perfect balance of focus and joy, like he’s exactly where he belongs, doing exactly what he was born to do. It makes my chest tighten with a feeling I’m still getting used to.
A whole lot of pride, loyalty, and…love.
When halftime comes, the Rush are up by two touchdowns, both thrown by Shepherd with a precision that has the commentators raving. I haven’t checked my phone, though I can feel it constantly vibrating in my pocket with notifications.
“You might want to turn that off,” Mari suggests, noticing my hand hovering over my pocket. “Unless you want to see yourself becoming a meme in real time.”
“Is it really that bad?” I ask, finally pulling out my phone to find it flooded with text messages, social media notifications, and even a few calls from numbers I don’t recognize.
“Not bad,” Bishop says, leaning over to look. “Just…viral.”
I open social media to find #ShepherdHaynesLoveStory trending alongside clips of both Shepherd’s performance andmy shouted response. There are already fan edits set to romantic music, slow-motion versions, and countless comments analyzing every second of our exchange. I scroll through my phone, dumbfounded at how quickly this moment has spread across the internet. Someone’s already created a fan account called “@HaynesGirlfriend” with my blurry stadium photo as the profile picture. There are countless comments analyzing my reaction, Shepherd’s dance moves, and what it all means.
“Oh my God,” I mutter, showing Mari a particularly dramatic edit someone’s made with hearts and sparkles floating around Shepherd’s face as he mouths the lyrics. “This is surreal.”
“Welcome to dating a football star,” Killian says with a smirk. “Hope you’re ready for this level of attention.”
I should be panicking. Public attention has always been something I’ve actively avoided. Staying under the radar, invisible, was how I survived for so long. But strangely, I don’t feel that familiar anxiety clawing at my throat anymore. Instead, there’s something almost…liberating about it all.
“I thought this would terrify me more,” I admit, putting my phone away. “But I’m actually okay.”
Mari squeezes my hand. “That’s because you’re not hiding anymore. There’s power in being seen on your own terms.”
Her words hit me with unexpected force.
There is power in being seen on my own terms.
“You’re right,” I whisper, feeling something shift inside me. “I spent so long trying to be invisible because it felt safer. But this…” I gesture vaguely toward the field where Shepherd is returning for the second half, “this doesn’t feel scary.”
“Because it’s real,” Bishop says quietly. “And because he made sure you weren’t alone in it.”
“He wasn’t the only one.” I look around at the three people sitting with me; Mari, my constant support through everything;Killian and Bishop, who’ve somehow become protective older brothers I never knew I needed. And down on that field, Shepherd, who just made himself completely vulnerable in front of thousands of people just to make me feel safe.
“I’ve never had this before,” I admit, my voice catching. “People who would stand by me no matter what.”
“Well, get used to it,” Killian says, throwing an arm around my shoulders. “Haynes men are notoriously loyal. And annoying. But mostly loyal.”
A laugh forces its way out through my tears. “I’ll take annoying and loyal any day and be grateful for it.”
The second half starts with the same intensity as the first. I find myself on my feet more often than not, cheering louder than I ever have before, my voice joining the chorus of thousands. I try to analyze plays, asking Bishop and Killian questions about strategies, learning the rhythm of the game in a way I never cared to before.
Because now it’s not just football. It’s Shepherd’s passion. It’s his world, and I want to understand every part of it. When the final whistle blows, the Rush have won by three touchdowns, and Shepherd has thrown for over three hundred yards. The crowd is delirious with excitement, and I find myself jumping up and down like a child, high-fiving Mari and Shepherd’s brothers.
“He was incredible,” I say, my voice hoarse from shouting.
“He was showing off for you,” Killian laughs, checking his phone. “Come on, we’ve got field passes.”
“We what?” I stare at him.
