Chapter 16
Invisible String
Ali
The A/C roared against the sticky Georgia heat, blasting her with the sharp scent of lemon-scented air freshener and something vaguely plasticky from the vents.
Ali leaned her head toward the cool stream, her blonde waves fluttering slightly in it, as Taylor Swift sang about devils rolling dice and angels rolling their eyes on the radio.
Fitting, it seemed. She gripped her sparkling, maroon clutch a little tighter in her lap as they took the interstate exit and began the slow climb toward Peach Cove.
The summer sun hung low in the sky, casting golden light across the trees. Long shadows of mossy oaks danced across the windshield. The further they drove, the more it felt like stepping into a time capsule— a place that had held some of her best memories… and her worst.
Someone in the back seat of Abigail’s dark green Range Rover (thank God she didn’t have to drive here) made a joke about sequins versus sneakers and the car erupted in laughter, but Ali only smiled faintly, eyes flicking to the familiar landmarks.
Her stomach was tangled in nerves, excitement, dread, and something else— a soft ache that sat just beneath the surface. She hadn’t been back here in a decade.
She blinked out the window as they passed the corner where Sandytown still thrived with students— the one she and Daisy used to haunt religiously. Her lips curved, unbidden.
“She cried because she didn’t get the peach Stanley cup in her bid basket,” Daisy had said once, dramatic and gorgeous. “Then she tried to trade someone for theirs like it was The Hunger Games.”
Ali had nearly choked on her pimento cheese sandwich, laughing.
Daisy had always been the center of the room, confident and bold and unfiltered. And back then, Ali had loved basking in her orbit. Their friendship had been easy— until it wasn’t.
The car turned onto Tide Drive, and something caught in Ali’s throat.
Up ahead, Russell Stadium rose in the distance, its towering lights already glowing against the hazy blue dusk. The giant screen glinted in the sun, reflecting back the late summer sky. Her breath hitched.
The Reef.
That’s what they’d called it. Everyone had. Students, locals, even the announcers during game broadcasts. It wasn’t just a stadium; it was a whole ecosystem. A place of wild cheers, stomping feet, painted faces, and roaring pride in a sea of navy and maroon.
She could still remember the electric thrill of sitting in the student section pressed between Daisy and some girl from Daisy’s sorority, waiting for Dylan’s name to be called.
The crowd had gone feral when he jogged onto Stowers Field, helmet tucked under one arm, the number 13 stretched across his back.
She’d never told anyone, especially not Daisy, how hard her heart had raced each time.
Now, a decade later, it felt like that same heartbeat was rattling against her ribs.
She’d see him tonight. She was almost certain of it. And she wasn’t ready.
Not for his voice.
Not for those eyes.
Not for the ghosts she’d tried so hard to leave buried here.
The banquet hall glittered with soft gold lighting and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Russell Stadium. Even in the off-season, the field glowed under the lights, every blade of turf crisp and green, like the game could start at any moment.
Inside, glass vases held floating candles and navy hydrangeas, and crisp white linens covered every table. The air was cool and perfumed with catering spices and designer cologne, buzzing faintly with alumni chatter and clinking glasses.
It was elegant. Expensive. Nothing like the undergrad formals of her memory.
Along the far wall, the silent auction drew a steady stream of attention.
Some of the prizes were charmingly expected— gift baskets with wine and cheese, autographed memorabilia, a weekend retreat to Savannah, passes to the exclusive golf club on Hilton Head Island. But the centerpiece was unmistakable.
A framed teal Orlando Tritons jersey, the silver number 13 gleaming beneath the lights. Beneath it, a digital display glowed:
Donated by: Dylan “Mac” McKenzie, Magnolia Bluff U Class of 2015, Suma Cum Laude
Ali stared at it for one breath too long.
Mac.
He went by that now. Of course he did— NFL players didn’t go by boring, studious names like Dylan.
Still, her eyes caught on the silver, stitched name across the back. McKenzie. Her stomach flipped. She hadn’t seen him yet, not in person, but somehow his presence filled the room like he had already stepped inside.
The gala had been a safe idea in theory. She was here professionally, with her coworkers from the accounting firm in Honeyshore. It wasn’t like she’d run into him face-to-face.
Right? He was definitely too important for her anyway. She would just avoid him– everything would be totally fine.
She turned away quickly, clutching her cherry blossom martini— her go-to cocktail— and made a beeline for the side of the hall, pretending to study a raffle display.
Her navy sequin dress shimmered under the lights, catching flashes of movement with every step.
The off-the-shoulder neckline gave it a trendy edge, but more importantly, it let her feel pretty while still covering the insecurities she wasn’t ready to shed.
The maroon jewelry and matching clutch added a rich pop of color— a quiet tribute to Magnolia Bluff’s legacy hues.
And then there were the shoes: maroon Adidas, clean and bold.
She was a sneakers and tennis shoes kind of girl anyway, so tonight’s theme was perfect.
The dress was technically a midi, but on her 5'2" frame, it grazed the tops of her shoes like a gown. She felt good in it. Strong. Present. But her heart still raced.
She wasn’t here for him.
She wasn’t the same girl who used to wait in the student section, heart pounding every time he touched the ball. She had built a whole new life.
So why did just seeing his name on a jersey make it feel like the floor shifted under her feet?
The soft hum of conversation filled the banquet hall as Ali stood near the tall windows, the glowing stadium lights spilling across the empty field below like a spotlight on the past she’d tried to leave behind.
The night air was cool on the balcony where a few guests had already wandered, some going down to take pictures on the turf— laughing, snapping photos, reliving their college days in the glow of the floodlights.
Ali’s fingers tightened around her clutch as the glittering decorations caught the light, reflecting the sequins in the dresses around her.
The annual Sneakers & Sequins Gala. She had never gone before, but this year the cause was different. She was here for the new program the university was rolling out.
This was Magnolia Bluff University’s world— a world she had walked away from ten years ago.
Still, she wasn’t alone in this sea of sequins and nostalgia.
Ali exhaled and let herself be gently pulled back into the present by Abigail’s animated voice beside her.
“Oh my God, that guy definitely just winked at you,” Abigail whispered with a grin, bumping her shoulder playfully as she sipped from a glass of bubbly.
Ali laughed, the sound surprising even herself. “He was absolutely aiming at you,” she said, lifting her cocktail “You’re the one in the gold dress with legs for days.”
“True, but you’re the only one who matched your sneakers to your clutch,” Abigail replied, nodding at Ali’s maroon Adidas. “You’ve got the whole aesthetic down. Definitely main character energy.”
Their coworkers from the Whitestone CPA office mingled nearby, swapping college stories, hashing out the upcoming football season, snapping selfies with the mascots— Riptide & Captain Rip, and making bids at the silent auction tables.
The mood had shifted— lighter now that the drinks were flowing and the music softened to a background hum.
“Banana Pancakes” played over the speakers, mellow guitar riffs drifting through the air like a memory.
Ali let her guard down inch by inch, reminding herself of how far she’d come.
She and Abigail made their way toward the dessert table, dodging a pair of tipsy alumni reenacting their old cheer routine. For a moment, Ali let herself feel it: the joy, the ease, the way the soft lighting made everything look warm and golden.
Then the room dimmed slightly as a spotlight hit the stage. The background music faded into quiet.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” came the smooth voice of Provost Kensington from the microphone at the podium, “thank you for joining us tonight at the Magnolia Bluff University Sequins & Sneakers Gala. Your presence here honors not just our past, but the future we are building together.”
Abigail leaned in. “Oooo, is it time?” she whispered excitedly.
Ali smiled, but her heart gave a quiet stutter. She knew what was coming.
“And now,” Provost Kensington continued, “it is my great pleasure to introduce someone who has given so much to this university both on and off the field. A proud alumnus, a leader, and a changemaker… please welcome to the stage— Mac McKenzie.”
The applause rose like a tide, and Ali froze.
He was here.
And he was walking toward the stage.
And there was nowhere left to hide.
And just like that, the air left her lungs.