Secrets In The Air
1230 Words
(Pearl’s POV)
The next few days passed in a weird blur.
Pearl kept catching herself thinking about him—about the way Prince’s eyes softened when he looked at her, the way his voice dipped low when they talked like they had some secret between them.
It was stupid.
She knew it was stupid.
Guys like him didn’t get tangled up with girls like her. Not for real.
Still, her heart gave a little jolt every time she passed him in the hallway, every time she heard his name carried on a wave of laughter across the courtyard.
She hated it. She hated him a little, too, for making her care when she knew better.
Friday came faster than she expected. The night of the game.
Pearl found herself standing outside the stadium, hands shoved deep into her jacket pockets, debating whether or not to even go inside.
She could still leave. Go home. Pretend this night had never happened.
But something held her there.
Maybe it was stubbornness. Maybe it was the memory of Prince’s voice, teasing but somehow real underneath it all: You’ll be missing out.
She wasn’t going to let fear decide for her.
Not anymore.
Taking a breath, Pearl bought a ticket and slipped into the stands, climbing high enough to stay mostly invisible.
The crowd was loud and chaotic, a sea of school colors and flashing lights. Pearl pulled her jacket tighter around herself, heart thudding too fast, and scanned the field.
There he was.
Number 7.
Prince.
Effortless, alive, moving like the entire field bent around him. His throws were clean, brutal, beautiful to watch.
And even from the stands, Pearl could tell when he smiled—like he belonged out there, like nothing could touch him.
She shook her head, forcing herself to look away.
Stupid.
So stupid.
The game was almost over when someone slid into the seat next to her.
l
Imani.
“I knew you’d come,” Imani said, smirking as she handed Pearl a hot chocolate. “You can pretend all you want, but you’re hooked.”
Pearl rolled her eyes. “I’m not hooked.”
“Right,” Imani said, sipping from her own cup. “That’s why you’re up here looking like someone just kicked your puppy every time he smiles.”
Pearl didn’t answer. She just focused on the field, watching Prince dodge a tackle and launch a perfect pass into the end zone.
The stadium exploded with cheers. Prince’s teammates swarmed him, clapping his back, hoisting him into the air.
And Pearl—
God help her—
Smiled.
After the game, Pearl found herself walking slower than usual, letting the crowd thin out ahead of her. She wasn’t ready to go home. Not yet.
As she crossed the parking lot, someone called her name.
“Pearl!”
She turned to see Prince jogging toward her, helmet tucked under his arm, hair a mess, grin wide and wild and too much.
“You came,” he said, stopping a few feet away, still a little out of breath.
“I did,” Pearl said, voice lighter than she expected. “You’re not terrible at this whole football thing.”
He laughed, that low, rough sound that made her chest ache. “High praise from you.”
They stood there, awkward for a second, the night stretching out between them.
Then Prince shifted his weight, looking suddenly serious. “Hey... you busy? There's a bonfire thing after the game. Team tradition. You shoul come.”
Pearl hesitated.
Part of her wanted to say no.
Part of her wanted to run.
But something in his face—hopeful, open—made her pause.
“Okay,” she said finally. “Maybe for a little while.”
The bonfire was set up behind the old gym, a mess of broken pallets and scrap wood stacked high and burning bright. Music thumped from someone’s truck, and kids milled around in groups, laughing too loud, drinking from plastic cups.
Pearl hung back at first, feeling wildly out of place. But Prince didn’t leave her side.
He introduced her to people she barely remembered meeting, laughed off the teasing looks, kept her tethered to something solid.
At some point, he pressed a cup of soda into her hands and grinned. “Relax, Donovan. You’re allowed to have fun.”
Pearl took a sip, raising an eyebrow. “And you’re an expert on fun, I guess?”
He laughed. “You could say that.”
They stood there for a while, watching the fire crackle and throw shadows across the field.
“I like it,” Pearl said quietly. “The fire.”
Prince nodded. “Makes everything feel smaller. Like... none of the other crap matters for a while.”
Pearl glanced at him, surprised by the honesty.
Maybe she wasn’t the only one who felt trapped sometimes.
Their eyes met across the glow of the fire, and for a heartbeat, the rest of the world disappeared.
Pearl opened her mouth to say something—she didn’t even know what—but a sudden voice behind them broke the moment.
“Prince! Ellington! Come take a picture with the team!”
Prince grimaced. “Duty calls.”
He touched Pearl’s elbow lightly, sending a jolt up her arm. “Don’t leave, okay? I’ll be right back.”
She nodded, feeling strangely hollow as he jogged off toward the group.
Alone again, Pearl wandered a little, drawn to the edges of the bonfire light. She found herself near a cluster of old buildings—the maintenance sheds, abandoned and half-collapsed.
One door hung slightly open, and something inside caught the light.
Curious, Pearl stepped closer, the sounds of the party fading behind her.
Inside, old sports equipment lay scattered—broken helmets, cracked bats, deflated balls.
And on the far wall...
A bulletin board.
Yellowed photos pinned in haphazard rows.
She stepped closer, squinting.
An old football team photo from twenty years ago.
Familiar faces, younger but unmistakable.
Her heart stuttered.
There—
At the edge of the photo—
A woman who looked exactly like her mother.
Standing next to a man who looked a hell of a lot like Prince.
No.
Not like him.
Prince’s father.
Pearl’s throat tightened.
She leaned closer.
The woman in the photo had the same dark hair, the same tilt of the mouth, the same cautious smile.
And the man beside her—Nathaniel Ellington—had his arm slung casually around her shoulders, too familiar, too comfortable.
Pearl stumbled back, heart hammering.
What the hell...?
“Pearl?”
She whipped around, startled.
Prince stood in the doorway, framed by the firelight, his face shadowed and unreadable.
“You okay?” he asked, frowning.
Pearl swallowed, forcing a smile.
“Yeah. Just... old memories.”
Prince stepped inside, looking at the photo wall too, but he didn’t seem to notice the picture that had gutted her.
Or maybe he did—and was pretending not to.
Pearl turned away quickly, her mind racing.
She couldn’t ask him.
Not yet.
Not when she didn’t even know what she was looking at.
But one thing was clear:
Whatever connection their families had...
It wasn’t over.
It was just beginning.
And if she wasn’t careful, she was going to be the one left bleeding when it all fell apart.
- Writer
