The stadium lights glowed softly, casting long shadows over the quiet field. Practice had ended, and the bleachers were empty now, save for the two of you. You sat cross-legged on the grass, nervously pulling at the hem of your cheer skirt. He leaned against the goalpost, still in his football jersey, tossing a football absentmindedly from hand to hand.

When you called his name, your voice barely audible over the hum of the lights, he looked up and jogged over, his usual cocky grin in place.

“What’s up, babe?” he asked, dropping down to sit beside you. “You’re not about to tell me I messed up that last play, are you? I nailed that throw.”

You shook your head, your chest tightening.

He frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Okay, so what is it? You’ve been acting weird all day.”

You hesitated, glancing down at your hands. “I think... I might be pregnant.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and unshakable. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. His usual bravado seemed to evaporate as the meaning of your words sank in.

“Wait, what?” His voice was quieter now. “You’re serious? Like... you’re really pregnant?”

You nodded, biting your lip. “I took a test. It came back positive.”

“Damn,” he muttered, looking out at the field, his jaw tightening. “Okay... okay. Wow.” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head.

He turned to look at you, his brown eyes searching yours. For the first time, the boy who always seemed so sure of himself looked completely vulnerable. After a long moment, he reached out and took your hand.

“Hey,” he said, his voice steadying. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

“Guess our Friday nights won’t be all about football and parties anymore,” He added. “But hey, maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

For the first time, you felt a glimmer of hope. The boy who seemed to have everything—the charm, the confidence, the popularity—was now showing you a side of himself you hadn’t seen before; you believed he was ready to step up for the future you’d face together.