The Boy She Chose

Chapter 2

**Julian**

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.

Maya stood halfway up the bleachers, breathless, her hair slightly messy as if she'd run all the way from the library or whatever class she'd been trapped in. Strands of it stuck to her flushed cheeks, and she was panting a little, like she'd sprinted the last hundred yards. She was wearing my university's oversized sweatshirt—the one with the faded mascot on the front, sleeves so long they covered most of her hands, making her look even smaller than she was. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold and the run, and she was smiling.

At me.

Actually smiling at me, that wide, genuine grin that crinkled the corners of her eyes and made my stomach do somersaults.

I forgot how to breathe.

She lifted both hands around her mouth, cupping them like a megaphone.

"GO, JULIAN!"

I couldn't hear her clearly over the crowd. The words were swallowed by thirty thousand other voices.

But I knew what she said.

I knew because I could read her lips, the way they formed my name like it was something special.

And because she'd said those words to me a hundred times—before games, after practices, even that one time I was just trying to beat her at Mario Kart and she yelled it sarcastically from the couch.

Still, hearing them now—or seeing them—did something to my chest.

Something dangerous.

Something warm, like someone had poured hot chocolate straight into my veins.

Something that made every other person in the stadium disappear until it was just her, standing there in that ridiculous sweatshirt, looking at me like I'd hung the moon.

Maya cupped her hands around her mouth again, bouncing on her toes.

"YOU BETTER WIN, YOU i***t!"

I laughed.

Actually laughed, a real one that started in my gut and burst out before I could stop it.

One of my teammates—Marcus, our nosy tight end—bumped my shoulder, nearly knocking me off balance.

"What the hell are you smiling at, Vance? You look like you just saw a unicorn."

"Nothing."

His eyes followed mine toward the crowd, squinting through the rain. I immediately looked away, heat creeping up my neck.

"Nothing," I repeated, a little too quickly.

Because there was no way I was explaining.

There was no way I was admitting that the girl I'd been searching for all night had finally arrived, and suddenly I felt like I could win the entire damn championship, take on the whole State team single-handedly, just because she'd shown up looking like that.

The whistle blew for the next play. Kickoff.

I put my helmet back on, the world narrowing to the field again.

But before I turned away, I looked at her one more time.

She was still watching me.

Still smiling, raindrops catching in her hair like tiny diamonds.

And she gave me two thumbs up, then pointed at me like she was giving orders.

I smiled back, a real one this time, the kind that probably made me look like a complete fool.

Then I ran.

---

The rest of the game became a blur, but not the usual kind. Every time I looked toward the stands—and I looked a lot, more than I should have—Maya was there.

Cheering like her life depended on it.

Clapping so hard I could see her hands turning red even from here.

Jumping up whenever I made a good play, her sweatshirt riding up just enough to show a sliver of skin that I definitely shouldn't have noticed.

At one point, she even stood on the bench because apparently being five feet away from the ground wasn't dramatic enough for her. She wobbled, arms flailing for balance, and I swear I saw her roommate grab her elbow to keep her from tumbling into the people below. I almost missed a pass because I was watching her, laughing under my helmet at how extra she was.

Almost.

The ball flew straight toward me, a high, arcing throw that should have been easy. I caught it at the last second, fingers slipping on the wet leather, tucking it against my chest as a defender wrapped me up. We went down in a heap, mud splattering everywhere, but I held on.

The stadium went insane.

Maya screamed louder than everyone, her voice somehow cutting through even if I couldn't hear the words. She pointed at me accusingly, hands on her hips now, looking every bit the tiny tyrant she could be.

"FOCUS, JULIAN! STOP STARING AT ME AND PLAY!"

I couldn't hear her.

But I knew exactly what she was saying.

Focus.

The irony wasn't lost on me.

She was the reason I couldn't.

We drove down the field again. Another first down. A screen pass that I turned into extra yards because I saw her jumping in my peripheral vision. State's defense was getting sloppy, frustrated. Their quarterback threw an interception that our safety ran back for another score. Maya went wild for that too, even though it wasn't me. She was like that—loyal to the whole team, but I liked to pretend the extra volume was just for me.

The final whistle blew after a last desperate heave from State that fell incomplete in the end zone.

We won.

The stadium exploded. People jumped over the railings, flooding the field in a chaotic wave of celebration. Music blasted through the speakers—some victory anthem that everyone knew the words to. My teammates tackled each other, laughing, crying, screaming. Someone threw a water bottle that hit me in the back of the head. Someone else threw a towel over my head, then yanked it off to dump Gatorade on me. I barely noticed the sticky, orange mess soaking into my already-wet jersey.

I was already looking for her.

Again.

It had become an addiction, this constant search, this need to know she was there.

My eyes found her almost immediately. Maya was standing at the front of the bleachers now, right against the railing, applauding with the biggest smile on her face. Rain had plastered her hair to her forehead, and she didn't even care. She looked proud.

Of me.

That stupid smile made my chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with the hits I'd taken.