The storm from last night has left the field smelling like wet grass and metal. The bleachers are damp and the cold air is merciless, but my best friend doesn’t seem to care as she exchanges googly eyes with Alex across the field.
Practice starts in fifteen minutes, but half the team is already out there stretching.
I spot Tyler immediately, at the fifty-yard line with his helmet tucked under his arm, talking to Coach Harris.
Squinting my eyes, I try to read beneath his rigid posture, but it’s like nothing happened.
He no longer looks young like he did under the candlelight, when he almost…
I tear my gaze away.
Maya bumps her shoulder against mine. “You’re staring.”
“I am not.”
“You so are.”
Before I can argue, Alex jogs across the field toward Tyler, clapping him on the back. The
