Chapter 8 Daylight
Daylight
Ali
She stopped going to parties. Dylan asked— he always asked— but she found reasons not to.
“Too much reading,” or “headache,” or “just tired.” She didn’t tell him that the thought of stepping into another Greek house, another room full of girls who hated her just for existing, made her chest cave in.
So instead, he made new plans.
Drive-in movies where she could lean against his shoulder with a bucket of popcorn between them.
Walks at the marina where he pointed out which boat he was going to buy her “one day when he signed his rookie contract.” Late-night fries and milkshakes at the 24-hour diner she loved.
And long, quiet hours in his dorm room— where they worked side by side or binge-watched The Vampire Diaries (even though he claimed to “hate drama” and “already knew who she’d choose”).
He never complained when she hit pause for the fifth time to talk about Damon and Stefan.
He just smiled, reached for her hand, and let her ramble.
Ali started avoiding her dorm suite. Only going back to sleep and shower. She’d wait until Daisy was gone before unlocking the door. Sometimes she stayed out past midnight just to be sure.
Dylan knew something wasn’t right. He wasn’t clueless.
He knew his sister didn’t approve— and wasn’t subtle about it. He just didn’t know how bad it had gotten. Ali wouldn’t let him.
She didn’t want him caught between them. Didn’t want to be the reason he pulled further away from his sister, no matter how awful she was being. So she smiled and told him everything was fine, and he let her. For now.
Then came the biggest game of the season.
Conference championship. Magnolia Bluff against a top-seeded rival. ESPN cameras. Stadium packed.
Ali watched the entire game from the front row in her oversized hoodie, her heart pounding every time Dylan stepped onto the field. He was unstoppable. Calm under pressure. Fire in his veins. And when the clock hit zero, the crowd erupted.
Dylan McKenzie had just led the Sharks to a conference title. They were bowl bound.
Everything after that felt like slow motion. The confetti. The roars. The players lifting him onto their shoulders. She was clapping, trying to blend into the celebration— when he spotted her.
He jumped up into the stands, weaving through the crowd, helmet still in one hand.
“Dylan—” she started, confused.
But then he reached her.
Grabbed her waist.
Pulled her in.
And kissed her.
Right there.
In front of the entire student section.
The camera crews.
The cheerleaders.
The world.
He kissed her like no one else existed.
And when he pulled back, she was breathless.
Stunned.
The stadium was screaming.
Someone on the mic said her name.
People were cheering.
Dylan just smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear.
“About time,” he whispered.
And Ali… Ali didn’t know how to feel.
Except safe.
And wanted.
And maybe, finally, seen.
She reached up to grab his neck and before she could chicken out, she mumbled “I love you.”