Chapter 3 …Ready For It?
…Ready For It?
Dylan
The tunnel was shaking.
The stomping, the chanting, the drums — it all rolled together into a pulse pounding through Dylan’s chest as he stood shoulder to shoulder with his team, cleats echoing on the concrete, helmet in hand. He bounced once, rolled his neck. Focused.
This was it. Season opener. Senior year.
He closed his eyes for a beat, soaking in the sound of The Reef just beyond the curtain of smoke and stadium lights.
The chant had already started — “The tide don’t break!
The tide don’t break!” — shouted by thousands and building like a storm.
He had heard it for his whole life—growing up coming to MBU games.
But here, in the belly of Russell Stadium, it roared.
The line surged forward. Coach Busby slapped his shoulder as they hit the break in the tunnel. Then they ran.
Dylan burst through the smoke and out into the blinding lights, into the thunder of Magnolia Bluff University. The crowd was a blur of navy and maroon. His name echoed somewhere in the mix, but he barely registered it.
This wasn’t about him.
It was about the team. The school. The game. He’d worked his ass off for this moment — years of early mornings, late nights, no drinking, no distractions. No dating. Just discipline.
He jogged to the sideline, falling into formation with practiced ease, heart still hammering.
Then, out of the corner of his eye — just a glimpse.
Messy blonde bun. Navy T-shirt. Maroon skort.
Ali.
His stomach flipped. He hadn’t meant to look for her, but he had.
He faced the field again, jaw tight, hands flexing at his sides.
Focus. You’ve got a job to do.
The clock was bleeding down — just seconds left.
The scoreboard showed a three-point deficit, the crowd’s roar edging toward panic and hope all at once. Dylan wiped the sweat from his brow, helmet still off, breathing steady but fast. Every muscle was wound tight. This was the moment you dream about — or dread.
Coach Busby’s voice cut through the noise, sharp and calm. “One play. Give it everything.”
Dylan jogged back to the huddle, locking eyes with his teammates, their faces fierce and ready. He could feel the weight of the entire team — the hard work, the sacrifices — pressing down on him like the humid night air.
The snap was clean.
He dropped back, scanning the field through the clamoring noise, searching for an opening. The defense was swarming — desperate, relentless.
His heart pounded in his ears as he took the snap and stepped up, dodging a rusher’s outstretched arm. The line held, just barely.
Time slowed.
He pumped his arm and launched the ball high, the Hail Mary sailing in a perfect arc toward the end zone.
For a heartbeat, the world held its breath.
The stadium lights caught the ball’s gleam as it spiraled through the air — a fragile, shimmering thread between victory and heartbreak.
Then, chaos.
Players leapt, hands stretching, bodies colliding under the glowing night sky.
And in that chaos, Dylan’s eyes found one thing — Ali’s face in the crowd, wide-eyed, breath held.
The ball came down, tipped, caught — a game-winning touchdown.
The crowd exploded. “BLEED THE BLUFF!”— it was their victory rally cry. Captain Rip, the Southern pirate and Riptide the Shark were running into the end zone with MBU flags.
Dylan lept into the air, hands lifted to the sky, adrenaline crashing through him like a tidal wave.
In that moment, everything else faded.
The fight. The discipline. The doubt.
Only the victory. Only the team.
And somewhere in the roar — a whisper of her.
The shower tiles were cracked in a few spots—reminders that the locker room hadn’t been updated since long before Dylan set foot on campus.
Still, nothing about it bothered him tonight.
Not the busted faucet handles or the flickering fluorescent lights.
Magnolia Bluff had just beaten the Paladins, their biggest conference rival, under the stadium lights, and every single hit, sprint, and call had been worth it.
He ran his hands through his wet hair, letting the hot water hammer over his neck one last time before cutting it off.
His body ached in that satisfying way—bruised but not broken, worked but not worn out.
Game nights like this felt like the reason he’d put in all the extra hours.
The 6am lifts, the late-night film study, skipping parties and ignoring texts he didn’t want to answer.
He was laser-focused. Always had been.
And tonight, it had paid off.
The locker room was alive with celebration— guys blasting music, slapping helmets, and shouting half-coherent chants. His teammates had doused Busby in Gatorade on the field. Dylan had ducked that mess on purpose. That was for the cameras, not for him.
He toweled off quickly, pulling on a pair of jeans and a gray MBU athletic tee, then layered his navy Tau Delta Epsilon zip-up over the top.
His fraternity wasn’t just some social flex for him— it was his place.
His brothers were some of the few people he trusted, guys who understood the pressure without needing him to explain it.
At the TDE house, he didn’t have to be perfect. He just had to show up.
He slung his duffel bag over one shoulder and checked his phone.
Daisy:
Party at the House is already wild. You better hurry, Big Bro. I told Ali she HAD to go and you know she hates these things.
He shook his head, smiling. That was Daisy. Forever the social butterfly.
Not that he minded the Ali part.
There was something about her— quiet but not timid, observant in a way most people weren’t. She was soft around the edges, but sharp underneath. He’d noticed the way she shrunk in crowds, but never when Daisy was around. Like her best friend gave her permission to take up space.
He didn’t know why he kept noticing her. But he did.
And now, apparently, she was coming to the party.
Dylan grabbed his keys from his locker, gave a few nods and back-slaps to teammates on the way out, and stepped into the night.
The stadium behind him still buzzed with leftover energy, the kind that clung to your skin long after the final whistle.
Music was already drifting from the frat houses on Row, bass thumping in the humid air.
He headed toward the TDE house, the porch lights glowing like a beacon through the live oaks.
Let the night begin.
Dylan leaned against the kitchen counter, a sports drink bottle in one hand, the buzz of the Tau Delta party pulsing through the house.
Music from the living room blended with the sound of laughter and the occasional pop of a beer tab.
His body was still loose from the post-game adrenaline, but his mind was wandering— until Daisy appeared in the doorway.
Her cowgirl boots tapped across the tile as she made her way in, dress swaying, concern written across her face.
“Hey,” she said, nudging him gently. “Can I ask you a favor?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Sure. What’s up?”
“It’s Ali,” Daisy said, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear. “I think she’s freaking out. Like, she said she was going to head back to the dorm, but I don’t think she really wants to. She just gets overwhelmed sometimes, you know how she is.”
His heart gave a slow, deliberate thump.
Daisy glanced over her shoulder. “I tried talking her down, but she’s halfway out the door, and honestly? I think you’re the only one she might actually listen to. Can you…maybe just check on her?”
Dylan nodded before she even finished the sentence. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”
Daisy smiled, a soft, grateful look that reminded him of when they were kids. “Thanks, D. She really likes being here. I just don’t want her to leave because she got in her own head.”
“I’ve got it,” he said, already heading toward the front door.