15 friday lights
I don't understand football.
Not really.
I understand Logan's position because I've spent most of my life watching him play, and I understand enough to know when someone screws up badly, but the complicated plays and formations and random penalties still feel like a different language people expect me to magically know.
Nola, unfortunately, has decided none of that matters.
"This is the greatest thing I've ever experienced," she announces while nearly spilling her drink all over both of us as we squeeze through the student section.
"We haven't even sat down yet."
"I can already feel the energy."
"You sound possessed."
"I am possessed," she replies. "By school spirit."
"That's deeply embarrassing."
"It's beautiful."
The stadium is packed.
Actually packed.
The entire place feels alive, loud enough that the noise settles into my chest, students screaming from every direction while music blasts through the speakers and the field lights make everything look sharper somehow, brighter and bigger and more dramatic than it probably is.
I follow Nola up the bleachers while trying not to get elbowed in the face by overly excited freshmen.
"Why are people shirtless?" I ask as some guy runs past us painted green.
"It's football," Nola says like that explains literally anything.
"That answered nothing."
She grins. "You hate this."
"I hate people."
"That's your default setting."
Fair.
Eventually we find seats close enough to actually see the field properly, and the second I sit down, my eyes immediately find Jackson without even thinking about it.
Which is annoying.
Very annoying.
There are so many people down there and somehow my brain still picks him out instantly like it's automatic, helmet tucked under his arm while he talks to Scott near the sideline.
Nola notices immediately.
"Oh my God," she says.
I don't look away from the field. "What?"
"You found him in under three seconds."
"I was looking at Scott."
"That is the biggest lie ever spoken."
"I don't even like football."
"You like one football player."
I finally glance at her. "I'm pushing you down these bleachers."
"You're deflecting."
"I'm threatening."
"Same thing."
Before I can respond, the crowd erupts around us as the team runs onto the field, noise exploding so loudly it almost startles me, and suddenly even I get why people love this stuff.
The energy is ridiculous.
Nola is already standing.
"BEARS BABY," she screams.
I stare at her in horror. "Who are you?"
"A winner."
"You met football ten minutes ago."
"And now I'd die for it."
The game starts fast after that.
Faster than I expected.
Everything moves constantly, bodies crashing into each other, whistles blowing, people around us screaming like their lives depend on it, and somewhere during the first quarter I stop pretending I'm not invested too.
Mostly because Jackson's good.
Like... genuinely good.
I already knew Logan thought he was talented, but watching him play is different, quick movements, sharp turns, confidence pouring off him even from the stands, and every time he catches the ball the crowd loses their minds.
Nola notices me watching him again. "You're smiling."
"I'm literally not."
"You literally are."
"I'm supporting my roommate."
"You wanna kiss your roommate."
I choke on my drink immediately. "Jesus Christ."
Nola looks delighted with herself. "You walked right into that."
"I hate you."
"No, you don't."
Unfortunately true.
The Bears end up winning by enough that the entire stadium feels like it's shaking by the end, everyone screaming and celebrating while the team floods the field.
Nola grabs my wrist immediately. "We're going down there."
"What?"
"We're celebrating."
"We are absolutely not storming a football field."
"Coward."
Before I can argue properly, she's already dragging me down the bleachers with the rest of the crowd.
The field is chaos.
Players everywhere, people yelling over each other, music blasting again while everyone celebrates, and for a second I just stand there taking it all in.
Then Jackson turns.
And spots me immediately.
The second he sees me, something in his expression shifts instantly, tiredness disappearing under something lighter, easier, and before I can think too hard about it, I'm already moving toward him.
Actually running a little.
Which I choose not to unpack.
Jackson pulls his helmet off fully as I reach him, slightly out of breath now, and there's sweat dampening the curls at the front of his hair while he grins down at me.
"Coleman," he says. "You came."
I roll my eyes slightly. "I live with you. It would've been weird if I didn't."
"Still," he says. "You saw that catch, right."
"Oh my God," I mutter immediately. "Your ego physically cannot get bigger."
"It absolutely can."
"That's horrifying."
He laughs, and there's still adrenaline all over him somehow, restless energy that makes him look brighter than usual.
"You played really well," I admit.
That catches him off guard for half a second. Not visibly enough for anyone else to notice.
But I do.
"Yeah?" he asks.
"Yeah," I say, smiling slightly despite myself. "You looked good out there."
Something softer flickers across his face for just a second before-
"BENNETT."
Scott's voice cuts through everything.
Jackson groans dramatically. "There he is ruining my moment."
"You don't have moments," I reply.
"That's hurtful."
Scott jogs over, pointing toward the other side of the field. "Coach wants everyone for media shit."
Jackson sighs heavily like he's being sent to war.
"Tragic," I say.
"Wait for me after?"
The words come out so naturally neither of us reacts immediately.
Then my brain catches up.
So does his.
There's a split second where we just look at each other.
Then Scott makes a loud fake gagging noise.
"Jesus Christ," he says. "I leave for five seconds."
Jackson immediately flips him off without looking away from me.
I snort out a laugh. "Go do your media shit, Bennett."
He points at me while backing away. "You're mean after compliments. That's manipulative."
"You'll survive."
"Debatable."
Then Scott drags him away fully.
I'm still smiling slightly when Logan walks over.
His jersey's grass stained already, helmet tucked under his arm, and I immediately step toward him too.
"You played great," I tell him honestly.
Logan barely reacts to it.
Not because he's being rude exactly.
His attention just immediately shifts somewhere else.
Specifically toward where Jackson disappeared.
Then back to me. "What's going on with you and Bennett?"
Straight to it.
I blink once. "Hi to you too."
"I'm serious."
"So am I," I reply. "Congratulations on the win."
"Everly."
The tone alone makes me sigh. "There's nothing going on."
Logan watches me for a second too long. "Bullshit."
I cross my arms immediately. "Why does everyone keep acting like I can't speak to a man without it becoming a federal issue?"
"Because I know guys like Bennett."
I let out a quiet laugh at that. "You mean football players? Because you are one."
"That's not what I mean."
I glance toward the crowd where Jackson disappeared with Scott, irritation building unexpectedly fast.
"Nothing is happening," I repeat.
Logan still looks unconvinced.
Which annoys me more than it should.
"You got defensive fast," he says carefully.
"I'm not defensive."
"You kinda are."
"I just don't understand why everyone suddenly cares who I talk to."
Logan studies me for another second before sighing quietly. "Just be careful."
Something about that frustrates me instantly.
Not because I don't understand where he's coming from.
I do.
But I'm tired of people acting like I'm fragile.
"I can handle myself," I say flatly.
"I know," Logan replies. "That's not the problem."
Before I can ask what that's supposed to mean, someone calls his name from across the field.
Logan looks over once before glancing back at me.
"We'll talk later."
Then he walks off before I can respond.
I stand there for a second watching the crowd move around me, noise still roaring through the stadium while my chest feels strangely tight all of a sudden.
And the worst part is that Logan's question bothered me mostly because part of me didn't immediately know the answer.