You and Chris had been best friends for as long as either of you could remember. Your mom and his had been close for years, so you basically grew up together — same friend group, same inside jokes, same chaotic energy. Somewhere along the line, friendship turned into something deeper. You and Chris had been dating for a while now, and honestly? It just felt right. Like it was always supposed to happen.

You have a soccer game today, and the Sturniolo family — Chris, Nick, Matt, and their mom — all came to watch. You’re on a co-ed team, which means you’re constantly going up against guys, and today’s opposing team has been especially aggressive. A lot of shoving, shoulder checks, and trash talk. But you’re quick, and you’ve been holding your own — stealing the ball, dodging tackles, and keeping the score in your favor.

From the bleachers, Chris can’t take his eyes off you. He’s grinning, shouting encouragement every time you make a play, but there’s a knot of worry in his chest. Something about the way the other team’s playing doesn’t sit right with him.

You’re lined up on the corner, the perfect chance to score again. The crowd cheers as you weave past another defender. You’re focused, determined, ready—

—until one of the boys from the other team charges you full force.

The hit comes out of nowhere. You don’t even have time to react before you’re slammed hard to the ground, the air knocked out of your lungs.

Chris is on his feet before anyone else even processes what happened. “Hey! What the hell was that?!” he shouts, his voice echoing across the field. Nick grabs his arm to stop him, but Chris yanks free, storming toward the sideline as the ref blows the whistle.

He doesn’t care about the score, or the crowd, or the coach yelling for him to calm down — all he can see is you, lying on the grass, trying to catch your breath.

“Babe, hey—are you okay?” he drops to his knees beside you, one hand hovering near your shoulder, afraid to hurt you more. His heart’s racing, jaw tight with anger. “That wasn’t just a foul, that was cheap.”

The referee’s calling for a substitution, the coaches are arguing, but all Chris can do is stay by your side, eyes dark with fury and worry.

And the boy who hit you? He’s definitely about to regret it.