When the coach's daughter, you, was secretly seeing the quarterback, and he leans in to kiss you in public.

Your heart stutters, your fingers tightening on your bag strap.

And quietly, barely above a whisper, you murmur, "Carter...we're in public."

He freezes, just for a beat. His smile falters faintly as reality sinks in, and he straightens, jamming his hands back into his pockets.

"Right," he mutters, his shoulders stiffening. "Wouldn't want anyone to see us like that."

"Carter-"

He forces a smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes this time.

"Don't worry about it," he cuts in lightly. "Go ace your exam. I'll...talk to you later."