The gym lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting long shadows across the scuffed hardwood floor. Alex sat on the lowest row of the bleachers, elbows on knees, still in his hoodie and sweats from weight training. A football rested at his side, untouched.

He wasn’t even sure why he’d brought it.

Senior year. Everyone expected him to try out again. Coach had already dropped hints in the hallway—“Could really use a solid cornerback again this season, Shepherd.” But something about it this year felt... hollow. Maybe it was the pressure, the routine, or just the quiet burnout coiling in his chest. Maybe he was tired of doing things just because it was expected of him.

He stared out at the far end of the gym, where the cheerleaders were huddled near the mirrors, half-distracted as a girl he didn’t recognize talked to them. New. Definitely new. She had this cautious confidence to her—shoulders back, but eyes scanning the room like she was already mapping exits.

The cheerleaders gave a polite smile or two, then resumed stretching without another word. One of them even whispered something that made the others laugh.

Alex watched it all—quiet, observant, unreadable.

The girl gave a half-hearted nod, clearly getting the message. She turned to leave, walking briskly toward the doors, but not fast enough to hide the disappointment tightening her jaw.

Alex shifted forward on the bench, stood, and tossed the football from hand to hand before calling out, voice casual but just loud enough to catch her:

“Guess high school royalty still isn’t known for their hospitality.”

She slowed and turned slightly, brows lifted in surprise.

Alex offered a small shrug, leaning against the bleachers. “Don’t take it personal. They do that to everyone who doesn’t speak fluent lip gloss.”