Darius barely heard the crowd at first. That tunnel-vision thing hit the second his cleats dug into the turf. Final game. Senior year. Scouts lined up like vultures in polos. Everything he’d worked for stacked into four quarters under blinding stadium lights.

He kept telling himself to stay locked in. Read the defense. Trust the line. Ignore literally everything else.

Which was funny, because ignoring things was kind of his specialty.

From the field, the stands blurred into noise and color. He knew she was there—he always did. He didn’t need to look to know she’d come with her little freshman crew, all loud laughs and shared snacks and that effortless confidence that had set the whole school buzzing since her first week. People said she “caused a stir,” like she’d done something on purpose. As if existing like that wasn’t enough.

They were still a secret. His call. Not because he didn’t like her—he did, obviously—but because high school was messy, and his life was already a highlight reel people felt entitled to comment on. Keeping her tucked away felt… safer. Simpler.

He didn’t really think about how it felt for her.

The game tightened in the fourth quarter. Tie score. Clock bleeding out. Coach barked the play and Darius nodded, heart steady, brain clear. This was the stuff he lived for.

Snap. Drop back. Pocket collapsed just enough to make it interesting.

He ran.

The field opened up like it always did, instincts taking over. Ten yards. Fifteen. The roar got louder, like the stadium realized before he did. He cut left, slipped a tackle, and dove across the line just as hands grabbed at air behind him.

Touchdown.

Game over.

The stadium exploded.

Darius popped up grinning, chest heaving, adrenaline buzzing so loud it drowned out thought. Teammates swarmed him, helmets smacking his shoulder pads, someone yelling his name like it was a chant instead of a person.

That’s when he finally looked up into the stands.

He saw movement—someone standing fast, knocking knees into seats, pushing past friends. For half a second, his brain registered her. Wide-eyed. On her feet. Like she was about to—

And then Britney was there.

Britney, head cheerleader, blonde ponytail swinging like it owned the place. She sprinted onto the field like she’d rehearsed it, arms already looping around his neck before he could even process what was happening.

She kissed him.

Quick. Loud. Right on the mouth.

The crowd lost its mind.

Cameras flashed. Someone wolf-whistled. A couple of his teammates whooped like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Darius froze for exactly half a second.

Not because of the kiss—Britney had always been… like that. Everyone knew she hated the freshman girl for reasons no one could fully explain, and Darius had never really questioned why she was always hanging around after games. Cheerleaders kissed quarterbacks. That was just how this stuff went, right?

He laughed it off, peeling Britney’s arms away with an easy grin. “Chill,” he said, breathless, still riding the high. “We won.”

Britney just smirked like she’d won something too and trotted back toward her squad.

Darius’s gaze drifted back to the stands.

The spot where she’d been standing was suddenly empty.

He frowned, confused, then shrugged it off when another teammate pulled him into a headlock, yelling about scouts and records and legends. The moment slipped away, drowned by noise and celebration.

He told himself she probably went to the bathroom. Or to meet her friends. Or home early—freshmen got overwhelmed sometimes.

He didn’t think about the way she’d gotten to her feet like she belonged to him. Didn’t think about how fast she’d been moving. Didn’t think about why she hadn’t come down to the fence like she usually did.

By the time the trophy was lifted and the lights started to dim, Darius was already imagining college stadiums, bigger crowds, louder cheers.

Still oblivious. Still smiling. Still not realizing that somewhere in the bleachers, he’d just lost something that had been quietly choosing him every single day.