Chapter 18 Tyler
I do see Sabrina Monday. And Tuesday, and Wednesday, and Thursday. She’s driving me home from school every day, to the point that Will and Gabe don’t even ask if I need a ride anymore. They just wave me off and tell me to have a good time with my “friend.”
The earliest maple leaves are turning gold, and the color reminds me of Sabrina’s hair. I recognize the streets of Hamilton Lakes as we drive down them now, can wave to the business owners on Main Street as we pass the diner.
I learn how Emily Gilmore is the unsung hero of the Gilmore family—what’s so bad about wanting a good life for her daughter?
I listen to her worry about Spirit Committee business—bracelet sales are slightly down from last spring, and she wonders if she and Harper need to brainstorm a new line in order to keep the budget in the black before homecoming—though she always talks herself around to her usual bubbly optimism with minimal input from me.
I start to bring two smoothies every morning: a protein-rich one for me and a too-sweet strawberry banana one for Sabrina. She always drains it so quickly, I’m shocked she doesn’t get a brain freeze.
I stare at Sabrina’s profile, her upturned nose and long lashes and hair pulled back in an elaborate braid or a ponytail secured with the slenderest ribbon.
I lean through passenger-door windows to say goodbye, I open driver’s-side doors so she can slide through, she leans across the gearshift to grab snacks from the glove compartment—we close the distance between each other in a million different ways.
But we’re in front of the Thompsons’ house, or there are football players watching in the parking lot, or a Spirit Committee member pulls up next to us at a red light and rolls down her window to shout a hello to Sabrina.
We don’t kiss.
We don’t even touch.
All the repressed tension and desire is about to drive me crazy.
But being with Sabrina is about a whole lot more than just physical tension. I hadn’t realized just how much I needed someone to tell me exactly what she did until the words fell from her lips: I trust you. I’m willing to do anything to keep it that way.
I still help out with the dishes and laundry at the Thompsons’.
Still chip in for groceries with my money from the diner.
Still force a smile whenever reminders of my own family’s routines prick me with homesickness: classic rock in place of Taylor Swift during cleanup, pasta night favoring Bolognese instead of pesto, a family of night owls instead of early risers.
But the reminders hurt less now that there’s something to make me smile for real.
“You’re really settling in, huh?” Ryan asks one night when I slip inside after telling Sabrina goodbye at the curb. He’s leaning against the open fridge, eating lasagna out of the Tupperware. “Hanging out with the team? I told you Will was a good guy!”
“Yeah.” I let myself pretend I’m just responding to the second question and not the first. Even though Ryan’s been spending a lot of time with Haley, I still feel bad about not being completely honest with him.
But what would I even say? I grab a protein shake from the fridge, not quite meeting Ryan’s eyes. I don’t know what Sabrina and I are yet, other than really dedicated carpool buddies who kiss sometimes. And it’s not like Ryan doesn’t know that we’re hanging out.
“Good. Told you this town was welcoming.” Ryan grins, then ducks to put his Tupperware in the sink. “But can I get on your schedule, bro? What’s the point of having your cousin move in if you never get to see him?”
I wince, guilt roiling in my gut again. He’s chill enough about it now, but how pissed would he be if he found out I’m ditching him because I’m kissing Sabrina behind his back and claiming we’re just friends?
Should I explain? Come clean now, before I dig myself a deeper hole?
But before I can say anything, he’s pulling out his phone. “Maybe this weekend we could see a movie? The theater downtown always does this monster movie marathon leading up to Halloween, and Zach and I used to love it.”
He looks up with such hope that I can only smile back. “Yeah, that sounds great.”
I don’t want to rock the boat just when things are getting good. Just when it seems like maybe I’m going to have a much better year than I planned.
There’s nothing to tell. I’ll fill him in when there is.
Friday night’s game has an even bigger crowd than our last one, if that’s possible.
All I can see is a wave of blue, occasionally interrupted by Washington’s red.
The guys are feeling the energy too—when we run out onto the field to cheers, their heads lift higher, their grins broadening.
The air has the edge of fall now, and nothing makes me feel more alive than that breeze hitting my cheeks.
Hard though it was to leave my old team, I gotta say… playing for Hamilton Lakes is something else.
“All right, Hawks,” Coach Herman says, hands on his hips and a smile on his face. “Your last game was a thing of beauty. Just play another game today. Have fun out there.”
Then he nods to Will, who’s checking the plays taped to his forearm, and steps aside so we can all circle around our quarterback. Will nods. So much trust is communicated in that moment, it makes me ache. The connection they have, the strategy they’ve discussed, the faith Coach has in his QB…
And then Will’s leading us through a pregame pep talk. “Washington’s receivers don’t have anything on ours—I’m talking about you, Kai,” he says, pointing at the guy as he smears on his eye-black.
Kai thumps his chest in agreement. “Savvy, Cap’n Jack.”
Will adds, “But they win games with their defense. Gabe, you gotta find the gaps. Earn your nickname, Legs.”
“I’ll find so many holes, they’ll look like Swiss cheese!” he calls back.
“That’s my guy.” Will grins. “And Holloway, did Coach tell you there’s a scout from Michigan with his eye on you? Saw your work in the last game and came back for seconds. Keep doing what you’re doing, okay?”
My mouth goes dry, but I can’t keep the answering grin from my face. I’m half nerves, half excitement. “You got it.” And his faith in me must be going to my head, because I add, “Cap’n America.”
Kai whoops approvingly, so I must have pulled off the nickname thing okay.
Will nods. “All right, Hawks on three! One, two—”
“Go, Hawks!” we all cheer in unison. When we break away, I’m beaming and amped up on the vibes in the air. I’m ready to have fun.
Only Gabe’s jittery with tension, hopping from one foot to the other and cracking his knuckles before kickoff. I frown, watching him out of the corner of my eye. He’s often a little jumpy before practice or a game, but I’ve never seen him this bad.
Should I say something? That’s really Will’s job, but he’s busy talking to Coach. Probably about some last-minute plays and formations.
And I used to be good at this kind of thing…
When I notice Gabe’s breathing turning shallow, there’s no more thinking. Only the instinct to help the guys on my team. “Hey.” I nudge his shoulder, keeping my voice low. “You okay?”
“Fine, fine, totally fine, never been better, ready to rock and roll—”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Try again.”
His eyes cut side to side, and he lets out a sigh.
“Fine. As in, fine, I’m not fine. My dad’s watching this game, and, bro, he wants me to play in college so bad.
So, I started visualizing playing a great game—finding holes in the defense, like Will said—but then I started overthinking the plays, and I’m not sure I remember them all?
And did I eat right this morning, or will I burn out by the third quarter?
And if I do, will I ruin my career forev—”
“Hey.” I face him, planting my hands on each shoulder.
“Breathe. Breathe, okay?” I take a deep breath to model for him.
“You got this. You always get nervous before you’re moving, and then when you are, you’re unstoppable.
Your instincts know what to do. Just trust them.
And whether you play or don’t play in college, your dad will figure it out. It’ll all work out, okay?”
I don’t know if I’ve reached him. Don’t know him well enough to give the kind of advice and perspective I’d want if I were him. Suddenly I regret holding myself apart from the rest of them. If I knew him better, I’d be able to help more.
But his breathing slows, and his arms hang loosely at his sides. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He nods, and eventually, smiles. “Trust our instincts. We got this.”
I nod. “We got this.”
He walks off to finish warming up and is immediately accosted by Marissa, holding out her phone as a recording device. “Gabe! Can I get a quote for the Herald write-up? Do you think anyone can catch you today?”
“Oh, hell no,” Gabe says, shaking his head mournfully. “Not these guys. Maybe not any guy. I’m feeling fast today!” He jogs in place, scything his arms by his side to demonstrate.
I can’t help my grin. That’s the Legs we need.
All Gabe’s nervous energy pays off in some of the most incredible catches I’ve ever seen—he’s finding the gaps in coverage before Will even knows they’re there, moving so fast, he may as well be teleporting.
He somehow dodges right through a block in Washington’s defense, taking the ball an incredible thirty yards for a touchdown that has everyone in the bleachers on their feet, screaming themselves hoarse.
My job is to be sure they have a clear field to work their magic. It’s not as showy as Gabe and Will running touchdowns into the end zone, but I don’t mind. I’ve always been happy to set my team up for greatness.
I can’t help looking toward the merch table after a particularly critical block. Sabrina’s smiling my way like she hasn’t taken her eyes off me all night, and she raises one triumphant fist in the air. Naomi hops happily up and down beside her, and even the less expressive Priya is applauding.
I try to restrain my grin, to stay focused.
But it’s really hard when the queen of Hamilton Lakes is on the sidelines cheering for me. When I can’t stop thinking about the scouts in the stands and my chance this year to snag a scholarship to make college ball a reality.
During halftime, I tip my water bottle down my throat to fight the battle of dehydration and rinse out the taste of sweat and mouthguard. But I barely notice the cooling quench of the water, and I find myself thinking stupid thoughts about drowning in blue eyes.
The second half is no less intense. Gabe’s using his wheels, but Washington’s defense is on him now—they’re triple-teaming him to try to cover him.
But that just opens up gaps for other guys, and Kai’s hands are nice and soft today, catching a gorgeous long pass from Will.
As we head into the fourth quarter, he even fakes out Washington’s offensive line, pretending to pass to Gabe running behind him—Gabe doubles over as if he’s caught the football, the offense piles on him, and Will takes off for clear blue skies.
No one comes anywhere close to catching him.
I can say it now with confidence: He’s one of the best high school quarterbacks I’ve ever seen. He has that innate sense that can’t be taught, picking apart the other team’s defense with intuitive precision.
When the ref blows the whistle to declare our victory, I limp to the sidelines with no small amount of relief. I took enough hits to be black-and-blue tomorrow, but it’s worth it for the 27–0 final score. A bloodbath.
The field gets rushed by fans. Kara swings her arms around Will’s neck and pulls his head toward hers in a kiss, but it’s excited and short-lived—they break apart to grin at each other, to start dissecting all his brilliant plays. Power couple.
Something in my chest twinges in longing.
As my sweat cools and the frenzy of activity calms, I start to get chilled in the evening air. I’m still buzzing with the energy of the game, but with no one special to congratulate me, I’m ready to leave the field and take a minute to myself.
But then Sabrina and the rest of the Spirit Committee jog over, and I’m hyped up on adrenaline all over again.
She approaches Gabe first, giving him a quick, congratulatory hug.
“Incredible touchdown!” she cheers, and he beams. Then Will, where she gives him and Kara a quick squeeze, frowning.
Says something like, “Play worse, please, so my friend has fewer reasons to move to California.” And Kai, who keeps his arms around her longer than I’d like, which has my fingers clenching at my sides. But who am I to object?
Carpool buddies who kiss sometimes.
Then Sabrina turns to me, and her smile expands a whole other notch. I wouldn’t have known that was possible. “Good game, you,” she breathes, wrapping her arms around me.
I don’t think I imagine the way she lingers. The way her breath hitches when she turns her face into my neck. I’m suddenly certain all those other hugs were just an excuse to touch me, too. In front of everyone.
The thought sends a spark of electricity up my spine.
I pull away so I can look her in the eye. Her gaze shines with excitement, and her cheeks are flushed, and I can’t help myself. “Come to the after-party at our place?”
She only hesitates for a second before she nods, not taking her eyes off my face.