Chapter Fourteen
Dylan
I strip off my practice shirt and shut my locker, the metallic clang echoing through the locker room.
Most of the team has already cleared out, leaving damp towels draped over benches and strips of discarded athletic tape stuck to the rubber floor.
The showers hiss behind the tiled wall while an industrial fan pushes warm, detergent-heavy air through the room.
My suit hangs from the end of the locker in a black garment bag, looking absurdly formal beside my shoulder pads and mud-streaked cleats.
The last two weeks have blurred together—film, practice reps, early lifts, coffee dates with Lucy, late nights studying in her room, and an uncomfortable hour mini-golfing with Meredith, Greg, and Darnell.
Darnell spent the entire hour positioned between Meredith and me, pretending it was accidental.
And tonight, dinner with a scout.
I have sat through film sessions with coaches dissecting every missed assignment and faced offenses designed to exploit every weakness I have.
None of that has made me as nervous as the pressed white shirt waiting inside that bag.
On the field, I know the rules. Tonight, I have to explain who I am when no one is handing me a play call or measuring the answer in tackles.
Coach Littlestone doesn’t arrange meetings like this casually, and the fact that the scout chose Mason’s Steakhouse tells me this is more than a quick introduction.
This isn’t a burger-and-handshake situation.
It isn’t an offer. It isn’t even a promise.
But it could be the first serious step toward everything I’ve worked for.
The scout invited my parents, but when they couldn’t make it, Coach suggested I bring someone who knew me outside football. Lucy agreed to come with me.
Honestly, I expected Coach to hesitate when I mentioned bringing her. Instead, he nodded like it was the most normal thing in the world. If anything, he looked relieved that football isn’t the only thing anchoring me anymore.
Once I’m dressed, I grab my keys and head toward the exit, my phone vibrating in my hand.
Mom.
I answer as I weave through a group of guys still lingering outside the gym.
“Dyl,” Mom says, her voice filtering through the line. “How are you feeling about tonight?”
“I feel good,” I say, dodging around a heated debate about last night’s game. My mind’s already running ahead. What the scout might ask, what I’ll say, whether Lucy feels out of place in a room like that.
“Good,” she replies, then hesitates. “I’m really sorry I couldn’t be there, honey. Work’s been… a lot.”
“It’s okay,” I cut in quickly. “Lucy’s coming with me.”
There’s a beat of silence. Then I hear the smile in her voice. “Lucy, huh? That must mean she’s important if you’re bringing her to something like this.”
“She is,” I admit without thinking.
“Well,” Mom says lightly, “if your schedule allows it, invite her to Thanksgiving.”
The suggestion catches me off guard. “Yeah… maybe. We’ll see.”
Mom sighs. “I’m glad you’ve found someone, Dylan. You deserve to be happy. On and off the field.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I say. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“Please do. And tell Lucy I said hello.”
“I will.”
I hang up and tuck my phone into my pocket, my thoughts already circling back to tonight.
Lucy. The scout. The future that finally feels close enough to touch.
For years, my future has been a straight line. Film, practice, discipline, and sacrifice. Every decision narrowing toward one outcome.
I never questioned it.
But lately, when I picture that future, it isn’t just stadium lights and draft calls anymore.
Lucy is there, too. In the stands. In some unfamiliar city. Packing her books because my career tells us where to go next.
Suddenly, I’m not only asking what I’m willing to sacrifice. I’m wondering what my dream might demand from someone I care about.
As I cross campus, the leaves are coming down faster now, skittering across the sidewalks. Football season is winding down, and the reminder follows me all the way across campus. Decisions are coming. Big ones.
Lucy is the first change to my plan that hasn’t felt like losing control.
And something tugs in my chest.
Somehow, making room for Lucy has made my life feel more complete, not less focused.
***
“I don’t know what to wear,” Lucy says, pacing her bedroom, the hem of her bathrobe swaying with every anxious step. Her red hair falls in loose waves down her back, and even now—frazzled, undecided—she’s breathtaking.
“Wear whatever makes you feel like you,” I say, crossing the room and gently settling my hands on her shoulders. “That’s always been more than enough.”
She looks up at me, amber-brown eyes moving between me and the clothes spread across her bed. “I just want to make a good first impression.”
“You already do. Every time you walk into a room.”
Her lips curve slightly. “Even if I showed up in a trash bag?”
“Especially then.”
She laughs softly, and before I can think better of it, I lean in. She meets me halfway, her hands sliding into my hair as our lips connect. The kiss is warm, sweet, and full of everything we haven’t said out loud yet.
She backs me toward the bed, and when I sit, she climbs into my lap. Her confidence surprises me, but there’s nothing rushed about the way she kisses me. Just curiosity, trust, and something steadily growing between us.
I ease her down onto the bed and prop myself up on my side, making sure she’s still with me.
“Is this okay?” I ask quietly.
Her answer is immediate. “Yes.”
My hand slides along her side, beneath the edge of her robe. She inhales sharply, her fingers tightening in my shirt as my fingers slip beneath the edge of her lace panties. Her response nearly makes me forget the dinner completely.
But I slow myself. This isn’t about taking. It’s about being present.
Still, when she whispers, “The door,” I smile against her temple and pull away just long enough to close it, clicking it shut softly before returning to her side.
She looks at me like I’m something safe. Something real.
“I’ve never done this before,” she admits quietly.
I brush my thumb along her jaw, my voice gentle. “Then we go slow.”
She nods. “Okay.”
What begins as one kiss becomes a series of careful questions and quieter answers. Every time my fingers slow against the swollen bundle of nerves pulsing at her center, Lucy draws me back. Every time I ask, she tells me what she wants.
By the time I remember the dinner, her hair is tangled, my shirt is crooked, and neither of us is breathing normally.
She looks at me then, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with a mixture of boldness and shyness.
“Can I… do that for you?” she asks, the question tentative but sincere.
“You never have to do anything because I did something for you.”
“I know,” she says. “I want to.”
I kiss her forehead. “Then we’ll talk about it when we aren’t supposed to leave in ten minutes.”
“The dinner!” Lucy gasps, eyes widening. “I forgot.”
She laughs softly at herself as she hops off the bed, moving quickly now, a little breathless, a little dazed.
She pulls a sleek black dress from her closet and slips into it with practiced ease, smoothing it down as if steadying herself again.
When she runs her fingers through her curls, she’s glowing—soft, radiant, undeniably herself.
Lucy grabs her purse and coat, her movements slightly hurried, as if she’s still catching up to herself.
“Come here,” I say quietly.
She pauses, then steps into my arms. I pull her close, holding her against my chest, letting her feel the steadiness there. “Lucy… I think I’m falling for you,” I whisper, the words slipping out without hesitation, heavy with truth.
Her expression changes so quickly that I know the words reached somewhere deep. “Really?”
“Really.”
Her eyes shine, but her smile is immediate. “I think I’m falling for you, too, Dylan.”
“This is a happy tear, right?” I brush it away gently.
She laughs softly and nods. “Yes. Happy tears.”
I kiss her then—deep and unguarded—pouring everything I feel into it.
***
Twenty minutes later, we’re standing in front of Mason’s with its bright windows and polished brass. Through the glass, I see Coach at a corner table with a man in a charcoal suit.
Lucy slips her hand into mine.
I have spent years preparing to walk into this room.
I never expected the most important part would be deciding who I wanted beside me when I did.