It's still back at the house.
With the way her fingers brushed against mine when I handed her the bowl. With the small smile she tried to hide when I made a particularly bad joke.
I pull my phone from my locker and type out a quick text.
You make it home okay?
I hesitate for half a second before hitting send. She was fine when she left, obviously, but something about tonight—about the way she looked at me when I told her you prioritize what's important—lingers with me the most. Hopefully, she understood what I meant.Shewould be my priority.
The read receipt pops up almost instantly, followed by three dots.
Mads
Yes, just walked inside. Think I might need to sleep off those extra dumplings.
I smirk at my screen, shaking my head. Before I can type back, a hand slaps against my shoulder, and I glance up to find Carter grinning down at me.
"Damn, man. You’ve got it bad."
I frown, instantly defensive. "Huh?"
He flops onto the bench across from me, lacing up his cleats. "Madison. At the house. You two all cozied up, watching movies, cooking meals together…" He lets out a low whistle. "Thought you said it was nothing."
I roll my eyes, tossing my phone into my locker with more force than necessary. "It is nothing." The lie tastes bitter on my tongue.
Carter smirks, seeing right through me. "Okey dokey, bud."
I shoot him a look. "She needed help studying. I helped. That's it." Even as I say it, I know it's not true. There's nothing simpleabout Madison and me, nothing casual about the way my heart races when she's near.
He raises a brow. "And the part when you made her food? Or when you two had a whole little moment before we left for practice? That part just…didn’t happen?"
My jaw tightens. "Drop it, Carter." I can't talk about this, can't explain the way I've been circling her for years, can't put into words how it feels to be so close and still so far from what I really want.
He grins but doesn't push any further; he just claps me on the shoulder before standing. "Whatever you say, man. I'm just saying—doesn't look like nothing to me."
Before I can respond, before I can admit he's right, that it's never been nothing, Coach's whistle blares through the locker room, signaling it's time to hit the field.
I exhale, shoving my helmet under my arm and pushing off the bench.
I don't know what Carter thinks he saw, and I don't know what the hell to do with the fact that he might be right.
Or that I hope to hell he is.
19
JAXON
The morning air is crisp as I keep a steady pace on my light jog through campus, my headphones in, drowning out everything except the steady rhythm of my breathing and the anticipation buzzing under my skin.
It's the same every Saturday—the quiet before the storm. The routine. The focus.
At least, that's how it normally is.
Until I spot her.
Madison, standing outside the coffee shop, phone in one hand, a cup in the other. She looks comfortable, casual—oversized sweats, hair piled up in a messy bun, her face bare. The morning light catches on her features, softening them, making her look younger, more like the girl I knew before everything changed. My heart does that familiar stutter-step it always does when I see her unexpectedly.
But then, I notice what she's wearing, and the warmth in my chest turns to ice. It's a football hoodie.
