50 game day
By the time I get to Yasmine's dorm, Peyton is already standing in the middle of the room holding up two shirts like she's hosting a reality competition show.
"No," she says immediately when she sees me. "Absolutely not."
I blink at her. "Hi to you too."
"That sweater makes you look emotionally unavailable."
Nola gasps from the floor. "Oh my God, it does."
"I hate all of you."
Yasmine laughs softly from her desk while fixing her eyeliner in a tiny mirror balanced against a stack of textbooks.
The entire room is chaos already.
Music playing too loud.
Makeup spread across every available surface.
Nola sitting cross-legged on the floor trying to curl her hair while simultaneously talking to Yasmine and burning herself every thirty seconds.
Peyton critiquing everyone like she's being paid for it.
Honestly, it feels less like getting ready for a football game and more like preparing for war.
"Sit," Peyton orders, pointing at the edge of the bed.
"Why?"
"Because your eyeliner is tragic."
"My eyeliner is fine."
"Your eyeliner is a cry for help."
I narrow my eyes at her before sitting anyway.
"See?" Peyton says smugly to Yasmine. "She respects authority."
"I literally hate you."
"You love me."
Unfortunately true.
I let myself relax slowly while the room buzzes around me. Yasmine and Nola keep bumping shoulders every five seconds without even realizing it anymore. Peyton keeps stealing everyone's makeup products like a raccoon with no moral compass.
Outside the dorm windows, snow drifts steadily through the dark.
It's freezing tonight.
Perfect football weather according to Jackson.
Psychotic weather according to me.
"You're nervous," Yasmine says suddenly.
I look up. "What?"
"You keep fixing your sleeves."
I immediately stop touching my sleeves.
Traitorous body language.
Peyton turns dramatically toward me from across the room. "Why are you nervous? You literally already got the wide receiver."
"I did not 'get the wide receiver.' "
"You are dating the receiver."
"We're figuring things out."
"You kissed him in your dorm room during active snowfall," Nola says. "That's basically legally binding."
Heat climbs straight into my face.
Yasmine smiles into her drink.
"I still can't believe you two are real," she says softly.
Neither can I sometimes.
That's the terrifying part.
Things with Jackson still feel fragile in some ways. New. Important enough that I notice every little thing now. Every touch. Every text. Every look across a room.
Like my brain still hasn't caught up to the fact that he's actually here.
Actually trying.
Actually mine.
The thought makes my stomach flip immediately.
Peyton notices.
"Oh my God," she says, pointing at me. "You just had a girlfriend thought."
"I hate this room."
"No you don't."
Unfortunately, again, true.
I glance toward the chair beside Yasmine's desk where the jersey's been sitting since I arrived.
Jackson's jersey.
Dark navy.
BENNETT stretched across the back.
I've been pretending not to look at it for twenty minutes.
Nola follows my gaze and immediately loses her mind.
"No," she says. "No way."
Peyton whips around. "What?"
Nola points dramatically. "The jersey."
Peyton gasps so loudly Yasmine jumps. "Oh, that is insane."
"I don't know if I'm wearing it," I say quickly.
All three of them stare at me.
Then Yasmine reaches over calmly, picks up the jersey, and tosses it directly into my lap.
"Well," she says. "Now you kind of have to."
I look down at it.
My heartbeat immediately gets stupid.
It's ridiculous, honestly.
It's just a football jersey. But it feels weirdly intimate anyway, like admitting something out loud.
Peyton watches me carefully. "You want to wear it."
I do.
That's the problem.
Nola practically vibrates with excitement. "Everly Coleman voluntarily participating in romance? Historic."
"I'm leaving."
"You're literally holding the jersey."
"I can still leave."
"You're blushing," Peyton points out.
Traitorous face too, apparently.
I stare at the jersey for another second before finally standing.
"Okay," I mutter.
The room goes dead silent, then absolute chaos.
Nola screams first.
Peyton nearly falls off the bed.
Yasmine actually claps once like a proud parent.
"This is the best day of my life," Nola announces while fake crying.
"You people are exhausting."
But I'm smiling when I pull the jersey on anyway.
It hangs slightly oversized on me, sleeves brushing my fingertips.
The second I look in the mirror, my stomach flips again. Because now I really look like someone's girlfriend.
And apparently that someone is Jackson Bennett.
God help me.
-
The stadium is electric by the time we get there.
Cold air burns my lungs immediately the second we climb the bleachers. Snow from earlier still dusts the edges of the seats and the entire field glows bright under the stadium lights.
Music blasts through the speakers.
Students scream from every direction.
The energy feels alive.
I tug Jackson's jersey sleeves further over my hands while we find seats near the front with the rest of the student section.
"You look sickeningly adorable," Peyton informs me.
"Stop perceiving me."
"No."
Down on the field, warmups are already starting.
I spot Jackson immediately. Which feels embarrassing.
Except apparently my body can identify him automatically now because it takes less than half a second.
Helmet off, laughing at something Scott Allen says beside him.
Then Jackson looks up and freezes.
Actually freezes.
Mid-conversation.
My stomach immediately drops into another dimension.
Scott notices within approximately two seconds.
His head snaps toward me, then toward Jackson, then back toward me again.
"Oh my God," I hear him yell faintly across the field. "HOLY SHIT SHE'S WEARING YOUR JERSEY."
Several players immediately turn toward Jackson.
Jackson, meanwhile, still hasn't recovered.
Even from this distance I can see the exact moment his brain completely stops functioning.
Heat rushes into my face so fast it actually hurts.
Nola grabs my arm violently. "HE LOOKS LIKE HE'S ABOUT TO PROPOSE."
"Please calm down."
"He literally cannot blink."
Unfortunately-
she's not wrong.
Jackson finally moves again a second later, rubbing a hand across his mouth while Scott completely loses his mind beside him.
Then Jackson looks back at me and smiles.
Not the cocky grin.
Not the practiced one he uses for cameras and interviews and reporters.
This one's different.
Softer, almost disbelieving, like he can't quite believe I'm real either.
The feeling hits me so hard I actually have to look away for a second.
"Oh, you're gone," Peyton says immediately.
"What?"
"You're in love-love."
"I hate all of you so much."
Yasmine laughs quietly beside Nola while the team starts heading toward the sidelines.
Down below, Jackson keeps glancing back toward the stands anyway.
Toward me, like he physically can't help it.
And honestly?
I can't stop smiling for the rest of warmups.