The Boy She Chose

Chapter 1

**Julian**

The stadium was deafening.

Not loud.

Deafening.

Thirty thousand students were packed into the stands, screaming beneath the floodlights as the scoreboard counted down the final minutes of the game. The air smelled like rain-soaked grass, sweat, cheap beer from the student section, and pure adrenaline. Floodlights cut through the misty drizzle that had started an hour ago, turning the field into a slick, glittering battlefield. My helmet felt too tight, the chin strap digging into my jaw. My jersey was soaked through, clinging to my skin like a second layer of ice. My lungs burned with every breath, a mix of exhaustion and the metallic taste of blood from biting my tongue earlier.

And I couldn't focus.

Not because we were losing.

We weren't. We were up by ten, but the other team—those smug bastards from State with their flashy uniforms and even flashier quarterback—had been clawing back all night.

Not because the other team had the ball.

They didn't. We had possession, third and long, and Coach was already screaming plays into his headset.

And definitely not because our coach had been screaming my name for the last five minutes like I was the only player on the field.

It was because she wasn't here.

I glanced toward the stands again, scanning the sea of blue and gold. Nothing. No familiar brown hair bouncing in the crowd. No oversized university sweatshirt swallowing her small frame. No bright, slightly crooked smile that always made my chest do that stupid, traitorous thing.

My jaw tightened so hard I thought my teeth might crack.

"Vance! Eyes on the damn ball!"

I snapped my attention back to the field just as the snap happened. The ball was already in motion, a perfect spiral from our quarterback, Derek, cutting through the rain like it had a vendetta.

Instinct took over. Years of muscle memory, late-night practices, and Coach's endless drills kicked in. I sprinted across the grass, cleats tearing up chunks of turf. One defender—a massive linebacker with a neck like a tree trunk—lunged at me. I dodged, twisting my body just enough that his fingers grazed my jersey instead of wrapping around my waist. Another slammed into my shoulder from the blind side. Pain exploded through my ribs, a sharp, white-hot reminder that I'd taken too many hits this season. I barely felt it. Adrenaline was a better painkiller than anything the trainers could offer.

I caught the pass.

The crowd exploded, a wall of sound that vibrated in my bones.

I ran.

Ten yards. The end zone felt miles away.

Five. A safety was closing in, his eyes locked on me like a predator.

Three. I could hear my own heartbeat, louder than the stadium.

Then I crossed the line.

Touchdown.

The stadium erupted. Confetti cannons went off prematurely from some overeager student group. My teammates crashed into me like a tidal wave—Derek grabbing my helmet and shouting something incoherent, our running back slapping my back so hard it rattled my teeth, the linemen piling on until I was buried under a mountain of sweaty, cheering idiots.

I laughed because that was what I was supposed to do.

I was supposed to celebrate.

I was supposed to enjoy the moment, soak in the glory, maybe even throw a cocky wave to the cameras that were definitely pointed at me right now.

Instead, I pulled my helmet off and looked toward the stands.

Still nothing.

Where the hell was she?

"Julian! Nice catch, you beautiful bastard!" Derek yelled, still hanging off me.

I barely heard him over the roar. I lifted my chin, searching through rows of people waving flags, holding up phones, screaming our school chant. Faces blurred together—drunk freshmen, alumni in expensive coats, cheerleaders doing backflips on the sidelines.

Nothing.

No familiar brown hair.

No oversized university sweatshirt.

No bright smile.

No Maya.

My smile disappeared like someone had flipped a switch.

I hated that I noticed.

I hated that I always noticed.

I'd played in front of thousands of people before. I'd scored touchdowns with national cameras pointed at me, my name chanted by an entire stadium until it felt like the earth itself was vibrating. None of it mattered if I couldn't find one person in the crowd.

Maya.

My best friend.

My biggest distraction.

And, unfortunately, the only girl I'd ever been stupid enough to fall in love with.

I rubbed a hand over the back of my neck, feeling the rain mix with sweat, and forced myself to look away. Maybe she wasn't coming. Maybe she'd forgotten. Maybe she had something better to do—like that study group she mentioned last week, or hanging out with her roommate who always gave me the side-eye like I was going to steal Maya away or something.

The thought shouldn't have bothered me.

It did.

More than it should have. More than I had any right to let it.

I turned back toward the field, helmet dangling from my fingers.

"Focus, Vance! We've still got a game to close out!"

Coach's voice cut through the noise like a whip. I rolled my eyes, but he was right. State was lining up for the kickoff return, their star receiver already bouncing on his toes like he was ready to burn us.

I'm trying.

I really was.

But then—

Something changed.

It wasn't the noise. The stadium was still screaming, a living, breathing entity of chaos.

It wasn't the scoreboard. We were still ahead, 24-14 now.

It wasn't even the game, or the rain starting to pick up, or the way my shoulder was already swelling.

It was the sudden, inexplicable feeling that someone was watching me. A prickle at the back of my neck, like the universe had just tapped me on the shoulder and whispered, *Look up, idiot.*

I looked up.

And there she was.

My heart stopped.

Just for a second. Maybe longer. Time did that weird thing where everything slowed down, the raindrops hanging in the air, the crowd's roar fading into a distant hum.