24 - Elizabeth
Elizabeth
By Saturday afternoon, Havenport didn’t feel academic. It felt feral. The quad had transformed overnight. Tents in school colors lined the lawns, alumni milled around in vintage jerseys, and every fraternity within walking distance had claimed a section of grass as if it were territorial warfare.
Music overlapped in competing waves. Someone had hauled in the smoker, the size of a small car. And the scent of charcoal and cheap beer hung heavily in the warm air. Homecoming here wasn’t sentimental. It was loud, nostalgic, and slightly unhinged.
I stood near the intramural field, adjusting the flag belt that was slung low on my hips. My oversized junior-class hoodie was cropped and knotted around my waist, and Jenna was smearing glitter across my cheekbones with aggressive enthusiasm.
“If we’re going to lose,” Jenna said, stepping back to admire her work. “We’re going to look hot while we do it.”
“Confidence is key,” I said, encouraging her weird enthusiasm.
Across the field, the seniors were stretching as if they had been training for this all year, and they probably had.
Powder puff at Havenport wasn’t an ironic little joke anymore.
It had become a tradition. The juniors versus the seniors, and the winners got bragging rights for the rest of the year.
And let’s not forget that the guys treated it like their personal source of live entertainment. That group included the football team.
I didn’t look at Ethan immediately. I felt him before I could spot him.
He always caused this strange awareness under my skin.
It was my body’s way of clocking his proximity before my eyes could.
But when I did glance toward the sideline, he was leaning against the railing with the rest of the team.
His sunglasses were pulled up into his hair, and his drink was hanging loosely from one hand.
It was a casual look that I didn’t expect from him.
The only difference between him and the rest of the guys was that they were looking at the field and he was looking right at me. I tried not to stare, but then the whistle blew and chaos erupted around me.
Our first play was a mess. The snap went wide, Jenna tripped over her own feet, and someone ran a route in the completely wrong direction. The crowd roared with laughter, and I doubled over, breathless but grinning. This was ridiculous.
On our next drive though, something clicked.
Jenna snapped the ball cleanly, and I cut across the middle just like we planned.
The pass hit me square in the chest, and for half a second I just stood there, blinking in surprise.
Then I ran like my life depended on it. My cleats dug into the turf, and wind rushed past my ears.
The noise of the crowd swelled. It felt simple and pure.
I risked a glance toward the sideline, and there he was.
He wasn’t leaning anymore. He was standing, and all his focus was on me.
His hands gripped the railing like it would change something else, and he needed to keep that from happening.
There were no jokes, and no one was shouting. They were all just watching me.
The look on Ethan’s face sent a warm spark down my spine.
I almost made it ten yards before a senior lunged and ripped my flag free. My team groaned dramatically, but I spun around and held my hands up in mock triumph.
“We advanced the ball,” I yelled.
“By eight yards,” Jenna shouted back.
“This is progress!”
The rest of the game unfolded in spectacular imbalance.
The seniors ran structured plays while the juniors ran on enthusiasm and good vibes.
I slipped trying to pivot on one play and landed flat on my back.
I just stayed down, staring up at the bright blue sky and laughing so hard that my ribs hurt.
I should’ve been annoyed, but I wasn’t. I was having way too much fun to care.
When the final whistle blew, the seniors were up by two touchdowns and an embarrassingly effective trick play that involved a fake lateral and far too much screaming. I leaned forward and put my hands on my knees as I tried to stop my lungs from burning so much that they could start a fire.
We had lost, and we did it in the most epic way imaginable, but as I stood there, I felt light.
It wasn’t because losing didn’t matter, because this specific loss didn’t cost me anything.
There were no rankings, and we didn’t have to worry about our futures or our identities.
It was just an afternoon of fun in the sun and quite a few regrets in the making.
When I straightened, Ethan was already walking toward me.
I allowed myself to take in the view and realized that he walked differently when he was on the field.
It looked like he was one with the grass, as if it was the one place he truly belonged.
Even off-season and while being unofficial, he carried that quiet athletic certainty.
He came to a stop right in front of me, and his eyes immediately began to scan. He took in my grass strained thighs, flushed cheeks and the loose strands of hair that were plastered to the back of my neck.
“You’re smiling,” he said as he ran a finger over my chin. “How could you possibly be happy at a time like this?”
I shrugged. “We got crushed, but that doesn’t mean I have to be a sore loser. We can sulk, or we can enjoy the festivities.”
“But you’re literally glowing.” His astonishment was written all over his face. “There’s a difference between shrugging it off and being happy that you lost.”
I tried my best to suppress my smile. I should’ve known that this would knock him right off his pedestal, but it was exactly that reaction that was the most priceless. I pushed my hair back, still trying to catch my breath.
“It was fun,” I said. “We’re not football players, and even though we watch you all the time, we actually had no idea what we were doing on that field.”
He frowned and put a hand to my forehead. “Are you sick? You hate losing just as much as I do. So you can’t tell me you’re going to walk away from that without being affected by the loss.”
I arched a brow and finally allowed my smile to break free. “It was a stupid little game, not something serious. So yes, I hate losing, but that only counts if I have something to lose. Until then, it’s just… fun.”
“How did this not cost you something? The whole school was watching.”
I glanced around and saw the seniors chest-bumping like they had won some sort of championship. Then I saw the rest of my team collapsing with laughter. And on top of all that, the alumni were filming everything. Premium content.
“Nah,” I said softly. “This didn’t cost me anything.”
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, because for him, a loss always came at a price. But the real game was tonight, under the stadium lights and in front of alumni, scouts, and everyone else who had an opinion that mattered.
“You’re thinking about what’s going to happen in your game,” I said cautiously. “You’re afraid of losing again.”
He didn’t bother replying, and he didn’t need to either. I had grown to know him well enough to understand exactly what that meant.
“It’s hard not to,” he eventually said with a shrug. “Did you see the list of people who’re gonna be there? This could be the most important game of my career.”
I stepped closer so that the noise from the tailgate could swallow our conversation.
“The outcome of one game doesn’t determine who you are as a player,” I said, hoping to reassure him. “You do know that, right?”
“It sounds simple enough, but it definitely doesn’t feel that way.” His nerves were starting to show through. “How could a loss on a day as important as this not determine the future of my career?”
“It feels that way because you attach meaning to everything. So what if you don’t win? You’re building a team from scratch. That has got to count for something.”
He gave me a look that was designed to argue, and I countered it with one of my own. There was no way he was going to win this battle.
“Do you not attach meaning to everything?” I asked, sounding a lot more cocky than intended.
“I’m just very specific,” he mumbled. “I choose what holds meaning.”
I quirked a brow, and that made him pause. He probably just realized that he had talked himself into a trap that he couldn’t get out of. I reached out and wiped a faint streak of glitter from his knuckle, where he’d clearly brushed me earlier without noticing.
“You were very intense for someone who wasn’t playing,” I teased.
He cleared his throat and said, “I’m a big supporter of women’s athletics.”
This time I couldn’t hold back my laughter. “I bet you are.”
I stepped closer to him. Not close enough to draw attention, but just enough for our conversation to shift from public to private.
“You looked so happy,” he said quietly.
I gave him a weak smile. “I was really happy out there.”
“Even when you fell down?”
“Especially when I fell down. It was an experience, not a competition, and I went into it with that thought in mind.”
He studied me as if he were trying to figure out how that could be possible.
That was when I realized he wasn’t confused about my joy.
He was trying to understand and learn it.
Without thinking, I grabbed the front of his shirt and tugged him toward the shadows behind the bleachers. It was hidden, barely, but it would do.
“Elizabeth—”
I kissed him before he could finish. It was deliberate and maybe a little frantic, but his vulnerable side had a way of driving me absolutely insane.
His hands immediately moved to my waist. His fingers pressed in against the warm skin just above the waistband of my shorts.
The world behind us faded into distant music and cheers.
But then I pulled back slightly, and his forehead hovered near mine.
“You’re pushing your luck,” he murmured, but there was a glint of excitement in his eyes.
“You like that about me.”
He bit his lip and groaned. “Maybe more than I should.”
I searched his face carefully, trying to see how he’d take the information I wanted to share with him.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I kinda like how this is just our thing,” I admitted, running my fingers over the stubble on his jaw.
“What do you mean?” he asked, and I wasn’t sure if I should be concerned or not.
“The sneaking, not having to explain ourselves or our actions, the way you look at me when no one else is paying attention. It’s so simple and uncomplicated,” I said, praying he wouldn’t take it as it was meant.
His grip tightened. “Do you really think I only look at you when no one else is paying attention?”
I felt heat rising up my neck. I knew exactly when he was watching me because his eyes burned a hole right through to my soul. And yet I didn’t know if he meant that as a good or bad thing.
“I think that for some reason you’re very careful about who finds out about what’s going on between us.”
He didn’t deny it, and even though I couldn’t explain it, that actually hurt. Was he ashamed of what we shared? Or was there another reason for him to keep this secret?
Students began to drift toward the stadium, and lights flickered on in the distance as the sun began to set. The atmosphere shifted from celebratory to anticipatory, and I instantly knew we didn’t have much time left. Ethan looked at the stadium and then back at me.
“Will you come with me tonight?” he asked shyly.
“I was already planning to.”
He shook his head slightly. “Not like that. I don’t want us to be at the same place but admiring each other from a distance.”
I raised my brow at the blatant contradiction he had just created.
“Be my sneaky date,” he clarified. “Sit with me, cheer, and pretend I’m not trying to touch you every five seconds. Sneak away and kiss me like you just did. I don’t know… But I do know that I want to be with you.”
My heart skipped a beat. “That sounds a little unrealistic.”
“I don’t care, but I swear I’ll try to keep our little secret.”
I took a deep breath and ran my fingers over my jaw, pretending to be thinking about his proposal even though I already knew the answer. He held his breath, and I could clearly see the fear in his eyes.
“Okay,” I eventually said. “I’ll be your sneaky date.”
Something eased in his expression. It was subtle, but it was definitely real. He brushed his knuckles along my jaw before stepping back into the limelight. With one final glance in my direction, he rejoined his teammates, and this time his shoulders were looser than they had ever been before.