By the time I made it down near the players’ exit, the night air had turned sharp and damp off the Pacific. Stadium lights still glared behind me, making everyone look too alive, too polished, too eager to be part of the after.
Girls clustered near the barricade in tiny tops and expensive denim, pretending they were just waiting for friends while fixing their hair every seventeen seconds. A few football parents hovered farther back. Reporters drifted near the rope line. Guys from other teams slapped palms and shouted names.
I stood a little off to the side, Drew’s jersey hanging loose over my shorts, my brace hidden under the hem badly enough that I probably looked like I’d escaped a team store with mobility issues and emotional damage.
I checked my phone.
Drew:Don’t run, Cinderella.
I rolled my eyes.
Me:I am literally waiting outside a locker room like one of your football wives. I hope you’re grateful.
Drew:Wear that jersey again and I’ll build you a shrine.
Me:Creepy.
Drew:Hawt.
I was smiling when the doors opened.
The first wave of players came out loud and damp-haired, smelling like soap, sweat, and victory. Jace saw me first and let out a wolf whistle.
“Damn, Texas!”
“I have a name,” I called back.
“Not anymore,” he said, grinning. “That jersey legally changed it.”
I flipped him off.
He clutched his chest like I’d wounded him and kept walking.
Dante came out next, phone already pressed to his ear, and gave me a small nod. Not teasing. Not smirking. Just one of those quiet quarterback looks that said he saw more than he planned to say out loud.
Then Drew appeared.
Freshly showered. Hair damp and curling at the ends. Black team sweats low on his hips, white compression shirt clinging to every unfair inch of him, duffel slung over one shoulder. He looked exhausted and lit up at the same time, body still carrying the violence of the game, grin loose and sharp when his eyes started scanning the crowd.
For me.
My stomach did something truly unfortunate.
I started toward him.
But another girl got there first.
She came from the side, cutting through a gap between two players like she knew exactly where she was going. Blonde. Pretty in a chaotic way. Not polished like Stella. Not sorority perfect either. Her hair was too wild, her lipstick too red, her smile too bright at the edges.
She touched Drew’s arm.
Not casually.
Possessively.
His entire face changed.
The grin vanished so fast it was like someone shut off the lights behind his eyes.
