51 thats my girlfriend
The locker room after a win is basically controlled chaos.
Music blasting through the speakers.
Half the team screaming.
Someone throwing tape at somebody else across the room for reasons nobody fully understands.
Scott Allen standing on a bench yelling about how he's "a warrior poet."
We won big tonight.
And honestly?
I barely care.
Not because football doesn't matter.
It does.
But the entire game, every time I looked up into the stands and saw Everly wearing my jersey, my brain completely stopped functioning.
So now all I want is to find her.
I'm halfway out of my pads when Scott throws a towel directly at my head.
"You're smiling again," he accuses.
"We literally just won."
"No," he says immediately. "This is different. This is girlfriend smiling."
I shove him away by the face. "Shut up."
"You're obsessed with her."
"I'm going to kill you."
"You can't," he says smugly. "Love has changed you."
"I hate this team."
"Liar."
Unfortunately-
also true.
I get out of the locker room as fast as possible afterward, hoodie thrown over my shoulder while cold December air immediately hits me the second I step outside the stadium.
Students crowd everywhere around the entrance.
Music.
Laughing.
Snow piled in gray-white patches beside the sidewalks.
Then I see her, and my entire chest caves in a little.
Everly's standing near the curb beside Nola and Peyton, BENNETT across her shoulders in bright stadium lights like it belongs there, like she belongs there.
She looks up at the exact same moment and smiles immediately.
And that's it for me, honestly.
I barely remember crossing the distance between us.
Everly laughs softly the second I reach her. "Hi."
I grab her face and kiss her before she can say anything else.
I don't care who sees.
Don't care that half the student section is still outside.
Don't care that Scott immediately starts screaming somewhere behind me like he's witnessing a national event.
Everly laughs against my mouth before kissing me back anyway, fingers curling automatically into the front of my hoodie.
When we finally pull apart, she's smiling so hard it physically hurts to look at.
"You played really good tonight," she says softly.
I stare at her for a second. "You wore my jersey."
Her cheeks go pink immediately. "Maybe."
"You wore my jersey," I repeat because apparently my brain only has one functioning thought left.
Nola groans loudly beside us. "Oh my God, he's gone."
"Fully gone," Peyton agrees.
Honestly?
Fair.
-
The after-party is loud enough to qualify as psychological warfare.
Music shaking the walls.
Bodies everywhere.
Somebody nearly spills a drink on me within thirty seconds of walking inside.
Everly's hand stays hooked loosely around my wrist while we move through the crowd together, probably so we don't lose each other.
Or maybe because neither of us really wants to let go.
Either way, I'm not complaining.
Scott disappears almost immediately into the chaos yelling something about finding mozzarella sticks.
Logan follows after him looking deeply exhausted already.
Yasmine and Nola vanish toward the kitchen together.
Peyton gets distracted arguing with somebody about whether Die Hard counts as a Christmas movie.
And suddenly it's mostly just me and Everly standing near the wall while the party moves around us.
She still has my jersey on. Which is not helping my ability to function as a person.
"You're staring again," she says lightly.
"I literally can't help it."
Everly ducks her head, smiling into her drink.
Jesus Christ.
I'm so done for.
Unfortunately, being at a football party apparently means every girl here has collectively forgotten how boundaries work.
The first one appears maybe ten minutes later while Everly's talking to Peyton nearby.
Tall brunette.
Way too confident.
"Good game tonight," she says, touching my arm immediately.
"Thanks."
"You celebrating later?"
"Currently celebrating."
She smiles like she thinks this is going somewhere.
It is not.
"Your girlfriend leave already?" she asks casually.
I blink once, then glance directly across the room toward Everly.
Still wearing my jersey.
Still laughing at something Peyton's saying.
Still mine.
"No," I say flatly. "She's right there."
The girl follows my gaze. "Oh."
"Yeah."
She leaves immediately after that.
Problem solved.
For approximately four minutes.
Then another girl tries.
Then another.
By the third one, I'm getting actively annoyed.
Not because they're flirting, but because every single conversation requires me to stop paying attention to Everly.
Which feels personally offensive at this point.
The last girl leans against the counter beside me while Everly's grabbing drinks with Nola.
"You know," she says, "you never used to reject people this fast."
I stare at her for a second, then glance across the room again.
Everly catches my eye immediately and smiles automatically.
That soft one.
The real one.
Something in my chest goes warm so fast it almost hurts.
I look back at the girl. "I have a girlfriend."
Not casual.
Not subtle.
Very clear.
Very intentional.
The girl blinks. "Okay, damn."
Everly walks back over right as the girl disappears into the crowd again. "What was that about?"
"Nothing."
"You look aggressive."
"I'm passionate."
"That's worse."
I grab her wrist gently and pull her closer without thinking.
Everly stumbles lightly against my chest, laughing immediately. "What are you doing?"
"I was making a point."
"What point?"
I look down at her. "My girlfriend's standing right here."
Everly actually chokes on her drink laughing.
Because apparently I sound ridiculous.
Which-
okay, maybe fair.
Scott appears out of nowhere at exactly the wrong moment.
"Oh my God," he says loudly. "HE'S SO WHIPPED."
Several people nearby immediately laugh. I flip him off without looking away from Everly.
Scott looks emotional about it.
"You used to have commitment issues," he says dramatically. "Look at your growth."
"Go away."
"You called her your girlfriend like a proud suburban father."
"I'm going to tackle you."
"You won't," Scott says smugly. "You're in love now."
Unfortunately-
again-
fair.
Logan walks past a second later carrying two drinks and pauses beside us briefly.
His eyes flick once toward my arm around Everly, then toward her wearing my jersey.
He still looks vaguely disturbed by the entire concept, but softer now, less tense.
"You two are disgusting," he informs us calmly.
Everly grins. "You love me."
"I tolerate you biologically."
"Sibling affection."
"Absolutely not."
But he bumps his shoulder lightly against hers before walking away again anyway.
Everly watches him go smiling faintly. Then she leans back against me automatically.
Natural now.
Easy, like we've already learned each other's gravity.
-
Hours later, the party finally starts dying down.
Everly's exhausted by then, curled half-asleep against my side on somebody's couch while music still hums quietly in the background.
Her head rests against my shoulder. My hoodie sleeves cover most of her hands.
Every few minutes she blinks slowly like she's trying to stay awake for me.
It wrecks me a little every time.
"You should sleep," I murmur quietly.
"M'not sleeping."
"You literally just fell asleep mid-sentence."
"That's propaganda."
I laugh softly.
Everly's eyes drift shut again a few seconds later anyway.
The room around us blurs quieter while snow keeps falling outside the windows.
Carefully, I brush hair back from her face, then kiss her forehead gently.
Everly hums sleepily against my shoulder without fully waking up.
And honestly?
I don't think I've ever felt this happy in my entire life.