You moved to Briar Creek to forget him That was the whole point. New town. New school. New life. No Ethan Cross. No Friday night football games where the entire town screamed his name. No pictures of him plastered across social media holding another trophy. And definitely no reminders of the boy who had once held your hand in the back row of a movie theater and promised he would always choose you. Promises were funny things. They sounded permanent until they weren’t.

So when your mother’s job transferred her to a tiny farming village forty minutes away, you took it as a sign. A fresh start. At least, that’s what you told yourself. The reality was harder. Because everywhere you looked, football existed. Especially at Briar Creek High. The Blackhawks were the local team. Underdogs. Losers, according to most people. You spent your afternoons sitting in the bleachers, pretending to do homework while watching them practice. The quarterback, Sammy, eventually became your friend. His girlfriend played for the girls team and you both shared common interests.

He was easy to talk to. Funny. Loyal. The kind of person who cared more about his teammates than himself. He never pushed when you refused to talk about your old town. Never asked why you flinched whenever someone mentioned Ridgeview. Until the schedules were released. The stadium buzzed with excitement. Blackhawks versus Rangers. Briar Creek versus Ridgeview.

Your stomach dropped the second you saw it. Because Ridgeview wasn’t just another team. It was Ethan’s team. The all-star team. The team everyone expected to win state again. The team he captained.

“You know them?” Sammy asked.

You stared at the paper.

“Yeah.”

“How?”

You swallowed.

“My ex plays there.”

Sammys eyes widened.

“The quarterback?”

You hadn’t spoken to Ethan in almost a year. Not since the breakup. Not since the fight. Not since he’d chosen football camp over the anniversary you’d spent weeks planning. Maybe it wasn’t fair. Maybe it wasn’t only his fault.

But neither of you had been willing to bend. So everything broke instead. Game day arrived beneath dark autumn skies. You sat near the top row of the bleachers, hoping nobody would notice you. Then the Rangers arrived.

And there he was. Ethan stepped off the team bus looking exactly the same. He was laughing with teammates when his gaze swept across the crowd. Then stopped. On you. Everything froze.

For a second, neither of you moved. His smile disappeared. Not because he was upset. Because he was shocked. Like he couldn’t believe you were actually there. The whistle blew.

His coach called him away. But he kept looking back. The game started. You tried to focus on football. You failed. Every time Ethan stepped onto the field, memories followed. Summer nights. Movie dates. His jacket around your shoulders. The way he’d kiss your forehead whenever you were upset. The way you’d imagined forever before life got complicated.

You slipped away from the crowd to get some air. You were halfway to the exit when a familiar voice stopped you.

“Still disappearing when things get overwhelming?”

Ethan stood there. Close enough to touch. Far enough away to hurt. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then he laughed softly.

“I can’t believe it’s actually you.”

You crossed your arms.

“I’m surprised you recognized me.”

His eyes softened.

“I’d recognize you anywhere.”

The words hit harder than they should have. Silence settled between you. Awkward. Heavy. Filled with everything neither of you had said. Finally Ethan sighed.

“You left without saying goodbye.”

“You chose football.”

“I chose my future.”

The frustration that had lived between you for months suddenly returned. Yet somehow it felt different now. Less anger. More regret. Ethan rubbed the back of his neck.