The post-game chaos was deafening.
Lincoln High's bleachers emptied slowly, full of bitter sighs and muttered curses. Athena stood on the sidelines with her squad, her red-and-black pom-poms drooping at her sides. The other cheerleaders were already whining about bad calls, the referee's supposed bias, and Mason Black's "smug little smirk."
Athena didn't say a word.
"Earth to Athena," her co-captain Brooke said, nudging her elbow. "You okay? You look like someone just dumped water on your uniform."
Athena forced a tight-lipped smile. "Yeah. Just tired. We'll get them next time."
But she didn't believe it. Not because she doubted her team, but because she couldn't stop seeing him. Mason Black's grin. His wink. His walk back to the locker room, half-turned like he was waiting for something—or someone.
She shouldn't care. She couldn't care.
Yet her legs moved on their own, carrying her away from her team, away from the chatter and the groaning disappointment. She headed toward the parking lot, slipping through the darkened corridor between the gym and the stadium—half hoping, half terrified she'd run into him.
And then she did.
He was leaning against the brick wall, Ridgeway jacket unzipped, golden football helmet dangling from his fingers. His brown curls were damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead, and his smile stretched slow and wide when he saw her.
"I was starting to think you weren't coming."
Her breath caught. "Why are you here?"
"Waiting for you."
Athena crossed her arms, trying to steady her voice. "You just beat us. Shouldn't you be celebrating with your team?"
He stepped closer. "I celebrated enough on the field."
"You're the enemy."
He shrugged. "Maybe. But you didn't cheer like you hated me."
Her cheeks flushed. "That's because I'm professional."
"Right. Of course," he said, teasing. "Totally professional. Except when you were staring."
Athena opened her mouth, then closed it. "You're full of yourself."
"And you're not denying it."
Silence settled between them, thick and humming with something neither could name. The distance between their schools, their teams, their reputations—it all hovered there, but so did the memory of that night at the banquet. Their ten-minute conversation about favorite books and dreams of leaving town. His laugh. Her smile. Things that didn't belong to a rivalry.
"I shouldn't be here," she said, barely above a whisper.
"But you are."
She hated how true that was.
Then Mason's voice dropped, quieter. "I've thought about you since that night, Athena."
She blinked, surprised. "That was a year ago."
"I know. But you've been in my head ever since. Even when I tried to forget."
Athena swallowed, heart thudding against her ribs. "This can't happen."
"I know." His eyes searched hers. "But maybe we don't have to figure it out all at once."
Another beat of silence.
Then she nodded, almost imperceptibly.
"I'll be at the coffee shop on Main," he said. "Sunday at noon. No jerseys. No colors. Just… us."
She turned to walk away, heart pounding like war drums. Just before she disappeared into the shadows, she paused.
"I might show up," she said over her shoulder.
When she glanced back, he was smiling again—soft this time. Hopeful.