Chapter 32 #2
Then he was gone.
Just like that.
I had to sit on the steps for a few minutes after. Because apparently my heart had learned how to sprint without asking permission.
When we got to lunch, the courtyard had become a full-on stage.
Not metaphorically. Someone literally set up a platform.
Rachel and I hadn’t even gotten our trays when a guy in a rented tuxedo climbed onto the stage with a mic and a giant sign that said, RACHEL, BE MY QUEEN OF HEARTS?
A cheer went up. The band struck a few clumsy notes. A tiara descended from the ceiling on fishing wire.
Rachel just stood there, unmoving.
She stared at him for so long the cheering faded into awkward silence. The guy shifted from foot to foot, his grin faltering.
I could feel secondhand embarrassment building like a wave.
Then Coop, who’d been watching from a nearby table, stood and walked over casually.
“Hey, man,” he said, clapping the tuxedo guy on the shoulder. “Loved the performance. If you wanna live, I’d clear the stage.”
Rachel still hadn’t said a word.
The guy took one more look at her, wilted slightly, then turned and fled, tiara bouncing behind him like a sad punctuation mark.
Rachel sat down without speaking.
I raised an eyebrow. “So. That was…”
“He brought up Lewis Capaldi last week,” she said flatly. “It was already over.”
Coop slid into the seat beside her, grinning. “I consider that a public service.”
She sipped her tea. “You want a medal?”
He leaned in. “No, but I’ll take the leftover tiara if no one’s using it.”
By the end of the week, I’d turned down two hallway serenades, avoided one locker flash mob—thank you Rachel!—and received six more roses.
No one signed them.
No one claimed them.
No one asked.
But my heart? It was getting harder to keep still.
Because the longer I waited, the louder it whispered:
Who are you hoping asks you?
And why aren’t you sure?
The pep rally ended in a rain of glitter, sweat, and three sprained ankles.
Which, all things considered, was pretty mild.
I watched from the back row of the bleachers as the marching band blared something vaguely recognizable and the cheer squad tried not to kill each other with their own tumbling passes.
My eyes kept darting toward the sidelines, toward the place where Jake usually stood—shoulders squared, face unreadable, adrenaline humming just beneath his skin.
Then, for the first time in days, he was there.
Back.
No fanfare. No entrance music. Just… Jake. In his jersey. Like nothing had happened.
He didn’t look around. Didn’t search the stands. But he was here. And that was enough to set my pulse fluttering like it didn’t know what to do.
I almost texted him. Almost.
But my phone was already blowing up—from Mom .
MOM : Dinner’s at 6:30. Don’t be late, Francesca.
MOM : There’s someone I want you to meet. This is important to me.
MOM : FRANKIE.
I stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the reply button. I could still make it if I left now. Put on the polite smile. Pretend everything wasn’t chaos. Let her steer the conversation toward colleges and posture and posture and posture…
Or.
I could go to the game.
Mathieu had plans with his host family that night—some dinner at a steakhouse with his host dad’s extended family—and he’d kissed my cheek before leaving the pep rally and said softly, “Text me if the glitter gets violent.”
I promised I would.
But I didn’t want to text him just yet. Not with all the nerves in my stomach bouncing off the walls.
I wanted to move . To do something.
And when Coop caught up with me in the parking lot and raised an eyebrow, I just blurted it out.
“You going to the game?”
He shrugged. “Was thinking about it. You?”
I hesitated. Then nodded. “Yeah.”
He opened my driver’s side door for me like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Then let’s go.”
It wasn’t until we got to the stadium that I saw Archie waiting at the gate, leaning against the fence like he’d been born to look both expensive and slightly dangerous in school colors. Not that he looked bad in the purple. Archie didn’t look bad in anything.
“Look who showed up,” Coop said.
Archie gave a slow smile. “Couldn’t let you two go unsupervised.”
“Is that what this is?” I said. “Chaperone duty?”
Archie stepped aside to let us through. “Think of it more as quality time with my favorite girl in glitter territory.”
I rolled my eyes, but my cheeks warmed anyway.
The stadium lights buzzed overhead, slicing through dusk with blinding force.
The stands were already packed—students, parents, teachers, the marching band, and at least three local news cameras.
Homecoming weekend was going to be here soon, and we were getting closer to the playoffs.
Maybe. Pretty sure we were. It usually meant heightened drama.
Honestly, I only paid any kind of attention cause Bubba and Jake played.
I really didn’t get football at all. Friday night lights meant someone was going to cry before the fourth quarter.
Probably me, if my heart didn’t calm the hell down.
We found seats near the top of the student section, just high enough to see everything but far enough to avoid the accidental pom-pom injuries and class reps throwing out free school merch.
Coop handed me a cold soda. Archie settled his baseball cap on my head. Neither said a word about Jake.
I was grateful.
I leaned forward on the bleacher, chin on my knees, watching the game start. Jake was on the field, helmet on, shouting something to the offensive line. He moved like he never missed a day. Like the world hadn’t tilted sideways earlier that week.
Maybe that’s what made my stomach twist. Because mine hadn’t leveled out yet.
“Is it weird being here?” Coop asked, voice low enough that I almost missed it under the roar of the kickoff.
I didn’t answer right away.
Then: “Yeah. A little.”
“Still glad you came?”
I glanced sideways at him, even as Archie bumped my knee with his, letting me know he was there.
“Yeah,” I said. “I think I am.”
The crowd cheered as Jake’s pass landed with surgical precision into the receiver’s hands. First down.
I watched him for a moment longer, breath caught somewhere between guilt and relief.
Then I leaned back into the night and let the game unfold in front of me, flanked by two of my best friends who weren’t asking anything of me and felt like my best friends again.
Maybe, for just a few hours, that was exactly what I needed.