Chapter 10
echoes of us
Morgan
The sun hung high in the sky, a relentless ball of fire that turned Maple Street into a mirage.
I pedaled hard, my blue bike wobbling slightly as I tried to keep up with Jax.
He was a streak of red ahead of me with his bike, his laughed ringing out like a challenge I couldn’t resist. We veered onto Oak Avenue, where the trees arched overhead, casting dappled shadows on the ground.
“C’mon Morgs. Keep up!” Jax calls over her shoulder, his voice teasing.
“I’m working on it.” I shouted back, my legs pumping with determination.
We rounded a corner to our secret spot, a hidden clearing behind an abandoned home, shielded by a wall of overgrown bushes.
The grass back here was patchy and worn from all the years that we’ve hung out back here over the years.
We dropped our bikes and flopped to the ground, the earth cool against our sweaty skin.
“I win,” Jax declared, stretching out with smug grin.
I rolled my eyes, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “You always win. It’s not fair — you’ve got longer legs.”
“Excuses,” he teases, nudging me with his elbow.
I swatted at him, but my laughter betrayed me. We laid here for a while, catching our breath, the hum of bugs flying in the air around us filing the silence.
“Do you think we’ll still be doing stuff like this when we’re older?”
“I mean, we get our licenses in a few years, so maybe not the bike riding part. But hanging out? Definitely. You’re stuck with me, Morgs. For life. Whether you like it or not. You’re my guiding light.”
“Good. I would hate to lose my best competition.” I grin.
He chuckles, and we fall into another easy silence, the kind that only comes with knowing someone as well as we do. It’s moments like these that make me believe we are invincible, that nothing can ever pull us apart.
I blink, the memory dissolving as the clink of coffee cups and the chatter around us bring me back to the present. Jax watched me, his head tilting slightly with a question in his eyes.
“Where’d you go?” he asks gently.
“Back in time,” I admit quietly. “That summer when we rode our bikes everywhere and would hang out in that abandoned lot for hours. When we acted like it was us against the world.”
“We kinda owned the world back then, didn’t we?” he asks, his smile soft.
“We sure did,” I return his smile.
I take a sip of my latter, the warmth grounding me as my mind drifted agai, . Another memory pulling my mind to the past.
The stadium lights blazed under the nights sky, casting a glow over the field where Jax stood, his helmet tucked under his arm.
His coach let him start for the first time.
I sat in the bleachers, my jacket zipped tight against the October chill, my breath visible in the crisp air.
The crowd was a sea of noise full of cheers, shouts, the thump of the school band and cheerleaders on the track moving to their cheers to pump up the crowd — but all I could see was him.
Number 11. Even at sixteen, Jax moved with a grace that set him apart, his focus razor sharp as he lined up with the rest of his teammates.
I gripped the edge of the bleachers, my heart punding as the whistle blew.
The game unfolded in a blur of motion, but I tracked every step he took, he play he was apart of.
When he caught a pass and sprinted down the field, dodging defenders with ease, I shot to my feet. “Go, Jax!” I screamed, my voice lost in the roar of the crowd. He crossed the line and the stands erupted.
After the game, I waited by the fence like I do every Friday night. Players streamed out, their faces flush with victory, and then there he was — Jax, his hair a mess, his grin wide and unguarded.
“Did you see that?” he asked, bounding over to me.
“Are you kidding? You were incredible!” I threw my arms around him, not caring that he was sweaty and covered in dirt. “I knew you’d kill it.”
He hugged me back, lifting me off the ground for a second before setting me down. “Couldn’t have done it without my number one fan.”
She laughed, but when our eyes met, something shifted. His gaze lingered, warm and intense, and my stomach flipped. It was the first time I felt it — the spark of something more, a thread of longing woven into our friendship.
Our friendship was a common topic at school with most people not believing that we were just friends. Neither of us dated anyone, nor showed interest in doing so. We were always together. And moments like these make people talk too. But that’s all we are. Friends. Just really good friends.
My mind returns again to the present. I look at him. Jax sits across from me staring at his phone, swiping his thumb up every so often.
“Jax?” I begin.
“Yeah?” he looks up.
“Remember back in high school, how I would wait for you after your games?”
“Of course I do.”
“Maybe that’s something that we need to do again?”
“That sounds good. I can make sure that you get some tickets.”
“I mean, it just makes sense, yeah? If we’re supposed to be dating.”
“You know, the guys used to give me such a hard time back then. They couldn’t wrap their heads around the fact that we were just friends.”
“Well, if any of them follow your career or whatever, they’re gonna definitely think you were lying back then.” I laugh.
He reaches across the table and holds out his hand and I place my hand in his. He squeezes my hand and then stands up.
“Let’s go for a walk.” He says simply.
I follow him out the doors, and onto the street holding hands as we walk through groups of people.
Is the hand holding something that is part of the plan? We didn’t set up anything as we left. His grasp was steady and because of that, my heart is thundering in my chest.