"I know, I know." I force a laugh, but it comes out hollow. "I'm a mess."
"You're not a mess," Lyla says firmly. "You're just...cautious. After everything you've been through, that's understandable."
We browse in silence for a few minutes, the quiet hum of the store a welcome distraction from my swirling thoughts. I run my fingers over a rack of soft sweaters, trying to focus on the textures instead of the ache in my chest.
"Can I ask you something?" Lyla's voice is gentle.
I nod, bracing myself.
"What scares you the most about having real feelings for someone?"
The question hits me like a punch to the gut. I close my eyes, willing the tears not to fall. When I speak, my voice is barely above a whisper.
"Every time I love someone, they leave. My mom, my grandparents... I can't do it again, Ly. I can't take the chance of hurting Jaxon or myself. I just... I can't handle my heart breaking one more time. Honestly, there’s nothing even left to break. Another loss would do me in. That’s why I thought just putting space between us, letting him forget about me, would be the best option."
Lyla wraps her arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a tight hug. "Oh, Maddy. I'm so sorry.”
I lean into her embrace, letting out a shaky breath. "It's okay."
"I get it," she says softly. "But you know, pushing people awaydoesn't actually protect you from getting hurt. It just means you're hurting yourself first."
Her words hit a little too close to home, and I pull away, busying myself with a nearby rack of scarves. "Maybe," I mutter. "But at least then, I'm in control of it."
Lyla sighs, but she doesn't push it further. "Come on, let's find you something to wear to the afterparty. Something that says 'I'm here to support the team' but also 'don’t fuck with me.’”
I can't help but laugh at that, grateful for the shift in mood. "Is that a look? Because if so, I think I've been nailing it for years."
We spend the next hour sifting through racks, debating the merits of various outfits. In the end, I settle on a pair of high-waisted jeans and a soft, oversized sweater in our school colors. It's comfortable but still put-together enough that I won't feel out of place among the sea of face-painted, jersey-wearing fans.
As we make our way to the checkout, Lyla loops her arm through mine. "You know I'm always here if you need to talk, right? About anything."
I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. "I know. Thanks, Ly."
Back at our apartment, we spend the rest of the night eating nerd clusters, drinking tequila and binge watching Grey’s Anatomy. Tomorrow’s the first home game of the season, and while I’ve attended every single one the last couple years, this one is different. The nerves I feel aren’t just hoping we win.
They’re hoping a certain brown eyed wide receiver plays his best game yet.
The roar of the crowd hits me like a wave as Lyla and I push through into the packed stadium. My heart races, though I'm not sure if it's from excitement or anxiety.
"Holy crap, it's crowded," Lyla yells over the noise. "I've never seen it this packed for a first game!"
I nod, unable to find my voice as we wade through the sea of bodies. The scent of popcorn and hot dogs wafts over us, making my stomach growl despite my nerves.
"Want to grab some snacks?" Lyla asks, gesturing to the concession stand.
"Sure," I manage. Food might settle the butterflies in my stomach.
We get in line, and I scan the crowd, unable to help myself from searching for a familiar face.Stop it, Madison. He's not going to be out here this close to kick off.
"What do you want?" Lyla's voice snaps me back to reality.
"Oh, um, just a Coke is fine."
She raises an eyebrow. "You sure? The nachos smell amazing."
I shake my head. "I'm good."
Lyla shrugs and orders for us both. As we wait, I fidget with the hem of my shirt, wishing I'd worn something nicer—or maybe Jaxon's jersey, like half the girls here seem to be sporting.
