Chapter 28: The Field of New Eyes
The indoor practice facility hummed with the low thrum of forced air and the distant clatter of equipment being set up at the far end of the field. Mia sat cross-legged on the bleachers beside Cassie, her chin propped on her palm, watching the football team run through their drills in the cavernous space. The synthetic turf stretched out like a green sea under the harsh fluorescent lights, and the air smelled of rubber pellets and clean ozone, sanitized and sharp.
She had barely slept the night before. Not because of the cold, or the storm, or any lingering memory of Jake's hands on her skin. No. She had slept just fine after the second round, which had left her boneless and satisfied. What had kept her awake was the flicker in Rachel's eyes when she'd promised not to pursue him. That little tell, the way her jaw had tightened before she'd spoken the words. Mia had seen it. She'd noted it and filed it away under threats to monitor.
And now here they were, all of them, sitting in the bleachers on a Tuesday afternoon because the snow had melted enough for indoor practice but not enough for outdoor conditioning. The cheer squad had been invited to run through their own routine on the side of the field, but practice had just ended for them, and the football team had taken over the main turf.
Mia watched Jake jog across the field, his helmet tucked under his arm, his breath fogging in the cold air. He looked good. He always looked good, but now she knew what that body felt like under her palms, and the knowledge made everything different. The way his shoulders moved under his practice jersey. The way his thighs ate up the distance with those long, easy strides. The way he glanced up at the bleachers, found her, and smiled that goofy grin she'd known since freshman year.
She smiled back before she could stop herself.
"Girl," Cassie said, elbowing her in the ribs. "You are not subtle."
"Shut up," Mia said, but she was still smiling.
Joanna leaned forward from the row behind her. "He's looking at you. He's definitely looking at you."
"Of course he's looking at me. We're friends. Friends look at each other."
"Friends don't look at each other like that," Alyssa said from her left. "Friends don't have that little smile on their face when they catch each other's eye. Friends definitely don't get that look on their face when the quarterback takes off his shirt."
Mia's head snapped up. "Wait. What?"
But Alyssa wasn't wrong. Coach Hernandez had just called for a transition drill, and Jake had peeled off his practice jersey, revealing the fitted compression shirt underneath. He pulled that off too, bunching it in his fist as he tossed it toward the sideline, and for a moment he just stood there in the middle of the field, shirtless, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths.
The facility suddenly felt warmer.
"Holy shit," Cassie breathed. "He's stacked."
A low whistle cut through the air, and Mia realized it had come from Cassie, who was leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, her eyes fixed on the field.
"Would you stop that?" Mia hissed.
"I'm just appreciating the view."
"You have a boyfriend."
"And my boyfriend is a skinny little engineer with glasses and a sweet smile. I'm allowed to look at the trees in the forest. That's not a crime."
Already on her feet, hot blood rushing to her face as she watched the drill unfold. But she couldn't have looked away if she'd tried. Jake had done his push-up and was already up again, laughing at something Devon said, and when he laughed, the muscles in his chest flexed with the effort and Mia felt her mouth go dry.
Alyssa had stopped gaping long enough to speak. "Okay. I need to ask. And I need you to answer honestly. Because I'm looking at him right now, and I'm trying to reconcile the full quarterback package with the man you described pulling your sweatpants down with his teeth."
Mia choked on air. "I never said he used his teeth."
"You didn't have to. I imagined it."
Joanna made a sound like a teakettle. "I'm so jealous. I'm so jealous right now."
"Stop it. All of you." But Mia couldn't keep the smile off her face. Watching them watch Jake felt like a strange kind of vindication, the evidence of her night presented to the jury. Look what I got to keep. Look what I get to hold. Look what he does when I tell him to.
Jake was running another drill now, his body moving with the kind of unselfconscious grace that came from years of training, but his eyes kept flicking toward the bleachers. Toward her. He caught her gaze and held it for a moment, and then he winked.
Mia felt her chest go tight.
Not subtle. Not even a little bit.
Cassie made a sound. "Oh my God. He just winked at you. In public. In front of everyone."
"Shut up, Cassie."
"He's got your back, girl. Don't you know that? Quarterback's got your back."
Mia pressed her lips together to keep from grinning like an idiot. Cassie wasn't wrong. Jake had her back. He had had her back for years, through every drama and every late-night study session and every terrible date she'd gone on with guys who didn't measure up to the man waiting in the wings. And now she knew what it felt like to be held by him, and she was never, ever going to lose that.
The squad continued to watch as Jake ran his drill. He finished his set of push-ups, then raised himself to his feet, and in the moment between one breath and the next, he caught Mia's eye again. His lips curled into a slow, deliberate smile, and he flexed his chest once, a tiny, cocky gesture that made his muscles jump.
The squad lost it.
"Did you see that?" Joanna was practically vibrating. "He flexed for you. He literally flexed for you."
"He's so ridiculous," Mia said, but she was laughing, her face hot, her heart hammering against her ribs. She was still laughing a moment later when she noticed Rachel.
Rachel hadn't laughed. Rachel hadn't said a word. She was sitting two rows down, slightly apart from the rest of them, and she was staring at Jake with an intensity that made something in Mia's stomach curdle. Her eyes weren't wide with admiration or glossy with envy. They were sharp. Calculating. They raked down his chest, down his stomach, and settled on his waistband with a focus that felt like a blade.
Mia's smile faded.
The smile died on Mia's lips, replaced by something cold and watchful. Rachel's hand rested on her thigh, fingers splayed, casual enough that anyone glancing over would see nothing more than a girl lounging on the bleachers. But Mia saw the way those fingers curled, the way they began to slide upward in slow, deliberate increments, hiking the hem of her practice shorts just a fraction.
Not high. Not indecent. Just enough.
Just enough to say: I know what he looks like without a shirt. I know what I'd do with that body if I had the chance.
Mia's jaw tightened. She forced herself to look back at the field, at Jake jogging through his drills, oblivious to the storm brewing in the bleachers. Coach Hernandez blew his whistle and the team reset for a tackling drill, pairs lining up across from each other. Jake took his position, low and coiled, his bare torso gleaming under the lights.
The first hit came with a crack that echoed through the facility. Jake drove his shoulder into the padded dummy, sent it rocking on its chains. The second hit, another player coming at him low, Jake planted his feet and shrugged him off like he weighed nothing. The man bounced off his hip and hit the turf, and Jake was already moving to the next rep.
In the bleachers, Rachel made a sound. Soft, barely audible, but Mia heard it. She turned her head, just enough to see Rachel's lips part, her teeth catching her bottom lip. Her hand had moved higher, fingertips pressing into the meat of her inner thigh. Still decent. Still public. But the intent was unmistakable.
Mia felt her blood pressure spike behind her eyes.
"God, look at him," Cassie was saying, completely oblivious. "He's just tossing those guys around like they're rag dolls. That's the quarterback. That's our quarterback."
"Our quarterback," Joanna echoed dreamily. "Well, yours," she added, glancing at Mia.
Alyssa let out a low whistle. "You know, I've watched him play for four years. I've watched him get sacked, get tackled, get hit from every angle. And I never once thought about what it would feel like to be on the receiving end of that force. I do now."
"Thanks for that image," Cassie said dryly. "Really. Thanks."
They laughed. Mia didn't. She was watching Rachel's hand, watching the way her fingers had begun to move in small, circular patterns against her thigh, as if testing the sensation. As if imagining what it would feel like if it were Jake's hand there instead.
Another tackle. Another crack. Jake took the hit shoulder-first, rolled, came up on his feet with the ball still tucked under his arm. He shook his head, grinning at something Devon said, and the sweat on his chest caught the light.
Rachel bit her lip harder. Her hand crept higher.
"You good, Mia?" Joanna asked, her voice cutting through the roar of blood in Mia's ears.
"Fine." The word came out clipped. She didn't look away from Rachel.
Rachel must have felt the weight of her stare, because she turned, slow and deliberate, and met Mia's eyes. Her expression didn't change. There was no guilt there, no embarrassment. Just a flat, calm acknowledgment, a silent answer to a question Mia hadn't been brave enough to ask.
You want him? her eyes seemed to say. So do I.
Mia's hands curled into fists in her lap.
Another drill. Jake took a hit from a defensive lineman, planted his feet, and drove him back a full three steps before shedding the tackle. The impact shook the field, a dull thud she felt in her chest. Rachel's hand pressed down harder on her thigh, her breath catching audibly in the quiet between whistle blasts.
"Okay," Cassie said, "I need to stop watching him. I'm getting ideas I can't act on."
"Marcus would kill you," Alyssa pointed out.
"Marcus would understand. Marcus is a reasonable man. And anyway, what he doesn't know won't hurt him."
Joanna giggled. "Mia, you have to tell us. What's it like? I mean, seriously. When he's doing that, when he's all... that." She gestured vaguely at the field, at the broad shoulders and the sweat-slicked muscles.
"He's different in bed," Mia said, hearing her own voice like it was coming from a distance. "He's... softer. Gentle. He takes his time."
"Soft and gentle," Joanna breathed. "The quarterback. Soft and gentle. I can't process this."
"He's not soft," Rachel said, and her voice had a bite to it, a possessive edge that made Mia's spine stiffen. "I've watched him play. There's nothing soft about him. He's powerful. He's driven. He doesn't yield."
The words landed like a challenge.
Mia turned to face her fully, the rest of the squad fading into the background. "You've watched him play," she repeated, her voice low. "I've watched him come apart under my hands. There's a difference."
Rachel's smile was thin. "Is there? I wonder."
The air between them went sharp enough to cut. Mia felt her pulse slow to something cold and steady, the way it did in the final seconds before a routine, when the music hadn't started and the crowd was waiting and everything narrowed to the single moment about to happen. She wasn't a violent person. She had never thrown a punch in her life. But right now, with Rachel's words hanging in the air like a dare, Mia felt like she could tear through metal with her bare hands.
She could feel the heat building behind her eyes, the coiling tension in her arms. Rachel, who had promised. Rachel, who had looked her in the eyes and sworn she wouldn't take a pass at him. Rachel, who was sitting here practically fingering herself watching Jake run drills.
The rage was a physical weight in her chest. She wanted to grab Rachel by the collar of her practice jersey. She wanted to drag her out of the bleachers and into the middle of that empty field and show her exactly what happened to girls who tried to take what was Mia's.
But that wasn't who she was. That wasn't how she operated. And somewhere in the back of her mind, a colder voice reminded her that Rachel had just handed her the perfect opportunity.
"You want to find out?" Mia said, and her voice came out dangerously calm. "Go ahead."
The laughter around them died. Joanna's smile froze. Alyssa's head snapped toward Mia, her eyes going wide.
"Mia," Cassie said, her voice cautious, "what are you talking about?"
"Rachel wants to know what it's like," Mia said, never breaking eye contact with Rachel. "She wants to know if watching him play is the same as touching him. She wants to take a pass at him. So let her. Let her go down there and ask him out. See what he says."
Rachel's expression flickered, something like surprise cutting through that mask of composure. "Mia, I didn't mean—"
"You meant it. Every word. You've meant it for years." Mia's voice stayed level, stayed calm, even as her hands curled into fists in her lap. "So go. He's right there. Practice is almost over. Go ask him out. I want to watch."
The silence stretched. Cassie shifted uncomfortably. Joanna let out a nervous little laugh that died before it left her throat.
"Rachel," Alyssa said, "that's a bad idea. Like, really bad idea. She's baiting you."
"I know she's baiting me," Rachel said, but there was something in her voice now, something that hadn't been there a minute ago. A thread of stubborn pride. "I'm not stupid."
"Then don't take the bait," Cassie said flatly. "Just let it go. She's your friend. He's her man. This is weird and awkward and nobody needs to see this."
"Mia's the one who told me to go," Rachel pointed out. "I'm just following instructions."
"I made the offer," Mia said calmly. "Go. Or don't. But if you don't, I want you to remember this moment for the rest of your life. I want you to remember that you had the chance to find out what he'd say, and you were too scared to take it. I want you to sit with that."
Rachel's jaw tightened. Her eyes flicked to the field, where Jake was jogging toward the sideline, grabbing a water bottle from the equipment table, his chest still heaving from the drill. He had no idea what was happening in the bleachers. He was just Jake, laughing at something Devon said, shaking his head at some joke Mia couldn't hear.
Then Rachel stood up.
"Oh my God," Joanna whispered. "She's actually going to do it."
"Rachel, don't," Alyssa said, reaching for her arm. "This is insane. You're going to humiliate yourself."
"Maybe," Rachel said, and there was a strange, almost wild light in her eyes now. "Or maybe I'll find out something she doesn't want me to know. Either way, I'll know."
She walked down the bleachers, her footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. The other members of the cheer squad had started to notice, heads turning as Rachel made her way toward the field. The football team was wrapping up its final drill, players stretching and grabbing their gear, the noise of practice winding down to scattered conversations and laughter.
Mia watched Rachel go, and her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat. For the first time, she felt a flicker of doubt. What if Rachel was right? What if Jake had choices now? What if he wasn't locked in?
No. She shut the thought down before it could take root. She knew Jake. She had known him for four years. She had watched him come apart under her hands, had felt him shaking with the effort of holding back, had heard him say her name like it was a prayer. He was hers. She just had to let Rachel find out the way she had found out. The hard way.
On the field, Jake had noticed Rachel approaching. He looked up, confused, water bottle dangling from his hand. Devon had stopped mid-conversation, eyebrows raised.
"Hey," Rachel said, and even from the bleachers Mia could hear how wrong her voice was. Too high. Too bright. The voice of someone who had rehearsed a speech and forgotten every word of it.
"Hey," Jake said, puzzled. "You're on the cheer squad, right? Mia's friend?"
"Yeah. Rachel." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture so unlike her usual composure that Mia almost felt sorry for her. Almost. "I, um. I wanted to talk to you."
"O-kay." Jake glanced at Devon, who shrugged. "What's up?"
Rachel took a breath. The whole bleachers had gone silent. The whole facility had gone silent. Even the distant clatter of equipment had stopped, as if the universe itself wanted to watch this moment.
"I've been watching you play," Rachel said. "For a while now. And I think you're incredible. I think you're the best player on this team, and I think you're the kind of guy who knows what he wants and goes after it. So I'm going to do the same thing. I'm going to ask you out. Do you want to get coffee sometime? Or a drink? Or anything, really. Whatever you're into."
Jake blinked.
"You're asking me out," he said slowly, as if making sure he'd heard her correctly.
"Yes." Rachel's voice was steady now, but her hands were trembling at her sides. "I'm asking you out. What do you say?"
Jake looked at her. Then he looked up at the bleachers, at Mia, and a grin split his face. Not a mocking grin. Not a cruel one. Just Jake's grin, the one that crinkled his eyes and made his whole face light up.
"Rachel, that's really sweet," he said, and even from a distance Mia could hear the warmth in his voice. "But you're asking the wrong guy. Mia's my girl. She's been my girl for years. She just didn't know it yet, and truth be told, neither did I. But she's the one. The only one. So I'm flattered, really, but I'm going to have to pass."
And he laughed. It was a kind laugh, a friendly laugh, the laugh of a guy who had just been given a compliment and wanted to soften the rejection. It was the laugh Jake gave when someone dropped something in the cafeteria, an oh-let-me-help-you-with-that laugh.
But Rachel didn't hear it that way.
Mia watched Rachel's face crumple. It was subtle, barely visible from a distance, but Mia knew what she was seeing. The shame. The humiliation. The sting of being laughed at, even if the laughter wasn't meant to hurt. Rachel's shoulders went rigid, her chin lifted, and she turned on her heel and walked back toward the bleachers with her back straight and her head high.
Rachel's footsteps echoed on the bleacher stairs as she climbed back toward the squad. Her back was straight, her chin high, but Mia could see the telltale shimmer in her eyes, the way her jaw was clamped so tight the muscles in her neck stood out. She sat down in her spot, two rows down, slightly apart from the rest of them, and she didn't look at anyone.
The silence was unbearable.
"Rachel," Cassie started, her voice soft, "that was really brave—"
"Don't." Rachel's voice was flat, clipped. "Don't do that. Don't try to make me feel better."
"Hey," Alyssa said gently, "he was kind about it. He could have been a dick. That's something."
"Kind." Rachel's laugh was a bitter, broken thing. "He laughed at me. He literally laughed at me and told me she's 'the one.' The only one. I just made a fool of myself in front of the entire football team for a guy who's been in love with someone else for years." Her voice cracked on the last word, and she pressed her lips together hard, blinking rapidly.
Mia watched the tears gather in Rachel's eyes. Watched them dot her lashes, catch the light, threaten to spill. A part of her, the part that had been Mia's friend since sophomore year, felt a pang of something like sympathy. Rachel had just laid herself bare in front of everyone. She had taken the risk, and she had lost.
But the other part, the part that had watched Rachel's hand creeping up her thigh on the bleachers, the part that had seen the hunger in her eyes, that part felt nothing but cold satisfaction.
"You did make a fool of yourself," Mia said, and her voice was quiet, steady, cutting through the murmur of the squad. "But you also got your answer."
Rachel's head snapped toward her. "Are you really going to rub it in right now?"
"I'm not rubbing anything in. I'm just making sure we're on the same page." Mia leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, her voice dropping so only the squad could hear. "He said it himself. He's mine. He's been mine for years, even before either of us knew it. And he chose me. In front of you. In front of everyone."
Rachel's chin trembled. A tear slipped free, tracking down her cheek, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand, furious and humiliated in equal measure.
"He didn't have to laugh," Rachel said, her voice barely a whisper. "He could have just said no. He didn't have to laugh."
"He wasn't laughing at you," Mia said, and despite everything, the words came out softer than she'd intended. "That's just Jake. That's how he is. He was trying to let you down easy."
"Easy." Rachel's laugh was hollow. "There's nothing easy about that."
The squad shifted uncomfortably. Joanna was staring at the ground, her cheeks flushed with secondhand embarrassment. Alyssa had her hand on Rachel's shoulder, squeezing gently. Cassie was looking between Mia and Rachel like she was trying to defuse a bomb with her eyes alone.
Mia took a breath. She felt the anger recede, just a little, replaced by something more complicated. She had pushed Rachel into this. She had dared her, knowing exactly what would happen. And it had worked, beautifully, perfectly, exactly as she'd planned. But watching Rachel cry, watching her friends awkwardly try to comfort a girl who had just had her heart publicly crushed, Mia felt the first flicker of guilt.
"Rachel." Mia's voice was low, almost gentle. "Look at me."
Rachel didn't.
"Look at me."
Slowly, reluctantly, Rachel lifted her head. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks wet, and there was something raw and wounded in her expression that made Mia's chest ache despite everything.
"That's my man," Mia said, and her voice was firm but not cruel. "He's mine. He chose me. And I'm not sorry that he did. But I am sorry that it hurt you. I'm sorry that you had to find out this way. I didn't plan it like this. I just... I saw the way you were looking at him up here. I saw your hand on your thigh, and I knew you weren't going to let it go. I knew you had to hear it from him."
Rachel's face crumpled. A sob escaped her, raw and jagged, and she covered her mouth with her hand. Cassie moved instantly, sliding down the row to sit beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Alyssa moved to her other side, and Joanna hovered, uncertain, before settling on the row behind and resting a hand on Rachel's shoulder.
"She's right, you know," Cassie murmured, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "He's been gone for her since day one. Anyone with eyes could see it. You just... you had to hear it."
"I know," Rachel whispered, her voice breaking. "I know. I just thought... I thought maybe if I said it out loud, if I actually tried, he might see me. Really see me. For once."
"He sees you," Mia said quietly. "He sees you as my friend. As a cheerleader. As a nice girl who was brave enough to ask him out. But he doesn't see you like that, Rachel. He never will. Because he's been looking at me for four years, and I've been too blind to look back."
Rachel laughed, a wet, broken sound. "How is that fair? How is it fair that you didn't even want him, and he was yours anyway?"
"Because that's how it works sometimes," Mia said. "The thing you've been waiting for your whole life, it's been sitting right in front of you, and you just don't see it until you're about to lose it."
Rachel was quiet for a long moment. The tears had slowed, but her breathing was still uneven, her shoulders shaking with the effort of holding herself together.
"Find your own," Mia said, and her voice was kind now, almost gentle. "That's what I'm telling you. That's what I'm asking you. Find your own, Rachel. There's a whole campus out there. A whole world. Don't waste it trying to take something that was never going to be yours."
Rachel met her eyes. There was still something there, a flicker of the stubborn pride that had driven her down those bleachers, but it was dimmer now, muted by the weight of her humiliation.
"I don't know how to just... stop," Rachel admitted, her voice small. "I've liked him for so long. It's going to take time."
"I know." Mia reached out and took Rachel's hand, squeezing it once. "And that's okay. Take the time. Mourn it, if you need to. But do it away from him. Away from me. And when you're ready, come back. We'll still be here. I'll still be your friend. I just... I can't share him. Not with anyone. Especially not with someone who's looking at him the way you were."
Rachel's breath hitched. A fresh tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand, nodding slowly.
"Okay," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Okay."
The squad let out a collective breath. Cassie squeezed Rachel's shoulder, and Alyssa relaxed, her hand falling away from its protective position. Joanna wiped her own eyes, sniffling, and Mia felt the tension in her own shoulders begin to ease.
On the field, the football team was wrapping up. Players were gathering their gear, heading toward the tunnel that led to the locker room. Jake was standing at the sideline, water bottle in hand, talking to Coach Hernandez. He glanced up at the bleachers, caught Mia's eye, and raised his eyebrows in a question: you okay?
Mia nodded, just once, and he nodded back, a small, private smile playing on his lips before he turned back to the coach.
"God," Cassie muttered, watching the exchange. "You two are disgustingly cute. I hate it."
"Shut up," Mia said, but she was smiling.
Rachel was quiet, her eyes fixed on the field. Her tears had dried, leaving faint tracks on her cheeks, and she was staring at the spot where Jake had been standing, her jaw set in an expression that Mia couldn't quite read.
But then she blinked, and the expression was gone, replaced by something tired and resigned.
"I'm going to go," Rachel said, standing up. "I need to... I need to take a walk. Clear my head."
"Rachel—" Cassie started.
"I'll be fine. I promise. I just need a minute." She managed a weak smile, the first one since she'd come back up the bleachers. "I'll see you guys at practice tomorrow."
She walked down the bleachers, her footsteps measured and steady. Mia watched her go, and a part of her, the part that had known Rachel for years, felt a twinge of worry. But the larger part, the part that had just watched Rachel's hand creep up her thigh in full view of the squad, felt only relief.
"Girl," Cassie said, turning to Mia, "you are cold. Ice cold. That was like watching a nature documentary."
"She needed to hear it from him," Mia said, her voice steady. "If I'd told her he wasn't interested, she wouldn't have believed me. She would have kept hoping. She needed the answer from the source."
"Still," Alyssa said, shaking her head, "that was brutal. Watching her walk down there was like watching a car crash in slow motion."
"She'll be okay," Joanna said, but her voice was uncertain. "She's strong. She'll find someone else."
"She'll find her own," Mia corrected, a small smile tugging at her lips. "That's what I told her. That's what she deserves. Not a guy who's already taken, but someone who sees her the way Jake sees me."
Cassie looked at her for a long moment, something unreadable in her expression. "You really love him, don't you?"
Mia didn't hesitate. "Yeah. I do. It took me four years to figure it out, but I do. He's mine. And I'm not letting anyone take him."
"Good," Cassie said, and her voice was warm now, almost proud. "I'm glad you finally got your head out of your ass.
The squad lingered in the bleachers, watching Rachel's retreating figure until she disappeared through the double doors at the far end of the facility. The silence that followed was heavy, weighted with everything that had just happened.
"Well," Alyssa said finally, letting out a long breath. "That was something."
"I need to go," Joanna said, gathering her bag. "I have a chem lab in twenty minutes. But I'm going to be thinking about this for the rest of the day. That was like watching a drama unfold in real time."
"It was like watching you unfold a drama," Cassie corrected. "Mia, you played that like a chess grandmaster. I'm genuinely impressed and slightly terrified."
"I didn't play anything," Mia said, but her voice lacked conviction. She felt hollow now, the satisfaction of watching Rachel get her answer fading into something murkier. Guilt. She had pushed Rachel down those bleachers, dared her to humiliate herself, watched it happen. And she had enjoyed it, just a little, in that dark part of herself that had seen Rachel's hand creeping up her thigh and wanted to burn the image out of her memory.
The squad gathered their things, chattering quietly as they filtered out of the bleachers. Alyssa squeezed Mia's shoulder on her way past. Joanna gave her a look that was equal parts sympathy and awe. Cassie lingered a moment longer, studying Mia's face.
"You okay?"
"Yeah." Mia managed a smile. "I will be."
Cassie nodded, accepting that, and followed the others out. The facility doors swung shut behind them, and Mia was alone in the bleachers, the football team still wrapping up their drills on the field below.
She watched Jake jog through his final set, his body moving with that loose, powerful grace that had caught her attention years ago and never let go. He had claimed her in front of everyone. Her man. Her Jake. He had said it without hesitation, without drama, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
She sat alone in the bleachers, her hands folded in her lap, watching the football team drift toward the tunnel in twos and threes. The facility had gone quiet, the echo of whistles and pads replaced by the low hum of the ventilation system and the distant clatter of the equipment room. She should have followed the squad out. She should have caught up with them, laughed off the drama, walked to the parking lot with her arm linked through Cassie's. But her legs felt heavy, anchored to the aluminum bench.
The guilt sat in her stomach like a stone. Rachel's face, crumpled and tear-streaked. The way her voice had cracked on those last words: I just thought maybe if I said it out loud, he might see me. Mia had wanted her to hear it from him, truly, she had believed that was the kindest way. Watching her walk down those bleachers had been like watching someone step in front of a train, and Mia had known exactly what was coming, and she had let it happen anyway.
She closed her eyes, let out a long breath, and tried to let the feeling drain out of her. It wasn't working. Not really. The guilt was there, stubborn and sticky, but underneath it something else was building. A warmth that had nothing to do with the facility's heating, spreading from her chest down through her stomach, settling low and insistent.
He said I was his girl. He said I've been his girl for years.
Jake's voice echoed in her head, that easy, unshakable certainty. My girl. She's been my girl for years. He had said it in front of Rachel, in front of Devon, in front of half the football team, without a single second of hesitation. Like it was the most obvious fact in the world. And the sound of those words coming out of his mouth had done something to her. Something electric.
Her thighs pressed together, a reflex she couldn't control.
She was still sitting there, trying to breathe through it, when a familiar voice drifted up from the field.
"You planning on living here now?"
She opened her eyes. Jake was standing at the bottom of the bleachers, his practice jersey slung over his shoulder, his chest still damp with sweat from the drill. He had a water bottle in one hand, his helmet dangling from the other, and he was looking up at her with that crooked smile she had known for four years.
"I'm thinking about it," she said. "The view's nice from up here."
"Yeah?" He started climbing the bleachers, his footsteps echoing on the aluminum. "What are you looking at?"
"You, mostly."
He laughed, settling onto the bench beside her with a grunt of effort. Up close, she could smell the clean sweat on his skin, the faint hint of fabric softener from his practice clothes. His chest was still heaving, just slightly, from the last drill. She could see the pulse beating in his throat, the way the muscles in his stomach contracted with each breath.
"That was a bold move," he said, his voice softer now. "What you did. With Rachel."
"I know." She looked down at her hands. "I feel bad about it. Kind of. I keep telling myself she needed to hear it from you, and she did, but I still feel like I pushed her into it."
"You did push her into it."
"I know."
"I'm not saying it was wrong." He nudged her shoulder with his. "She was gonna try something eventually. You could see it in the way she looked at me. Better she got shot down now than six months from now, when it would've hurt worse."
Mia looked at him, her heart doing something complicated in her chest. "You really think that?"
"I really think that." He met her eyes, and there was something in his gaze that made her breath catch. Warm and steady and absolutely certain. "And for the record, I meant what I said down there. About you being my girl. I've known it for a while now, I just didn't know how to tell you. There was always something in the way. A reason not to say anything. And now there's not. She's gone. The storm's gone. It's just you and me, and I'm not wasting any more time pretending I don't want you."
The words hit her like a wave, and she felt the last of her guilt dissolve in the heat they generated. She wanted him. God, she wanted him so much it hurt. The way he had stood there and claimed her in front of everyone, without hesitation, without embarrassment, as if the idea of choosing anyone else had never even occurred to him. That kind of certainty was intoxicating.
She reached out, her fingers brushing his forearm, and felt the jump of his skin under her touch. "Jake."
"Yeah?"
"Take me somewhere. Now. I need you."
His eyes darkened, just a fraction, and he was already standing, pulling her up by the hand, leading her down the bleachers.
He paused at the bottom of the bleachers, a few steps from the field, and suddenly he was hesitating, looking down at himself. At the sheen of sweat on his chest, the damp curls plastered to his forehead. He laughed, self-conscious, the sound catching in his throat.
"Hey, you sure about this? Because I am not smelling great right now. Like, at all. I've been running drills for two hours, I'm basically a human swamp. I think I owe it to you to at least hit the showers first."
She didn't let him finish. She stepped into him, one hand finding the back of his neck, cool fingers threading through the damp hair there, and she pulled his mouth down to hers.
He tasted like salt and heat and something indefinably him. The sharp bite of sweat on his upper lip, the soft give of his mouth, the way he made a small, surprised sound against her that turned into a low groan as she deepened the kiss. She pressed herself against him, felt his damp chest through the thin fabric of her t-shirt, felt the hard thump of his heart against her sternum. His hands came up, gripping her hips, hauling her closer, and she felt the possessive squeeze of his fingers through the denim of her shorts.
She pulled back just enough to breathe, her forehead resting against his, her lips tingling. "I don't care," she said, her voice rough. "I want you. Now. I've been sitting in those bleachers watching you run around for two hours, and all I could think about was getting you alone. You could be covered in mud and I'd still want you."
His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. "You know you're going to have to deal with the smell."
"Mmm." She leaned in, dragging her lips along his jaw, feeling the stubble scrape her skin. "I'll manage."
He didn't need to be told twice after that. He grabbed her hand, laced his fingers through hers, and pulled her out of the facility, through the empty corridors, past the echoing silence of the gymnasium halls. The cold air hit them in the parking lot, a shock after the stale warmth of the building, but she barely felt it. His hand was hot in hers, his grip sure and unyielding, and she followed him without question.
His truck was an old beat-up F-150, dented in the driver's door, smelling of leather and old gym socks and every drive they'd ever taken together. He helped her in, his hand on her lower back, his fingers lingering for a beat too long, and she felt the heat of his touch through her shirt as if it were branded there.
The drive to his dorm was short. Four minutes, maybe five, if they hit the light on Madison. Neither of them spoke. The silence was not tense, not awkward, just full. Full of everything they'd said, everything they'd done, everything they were about to do. His hand rested on the gearshift, and after a moment, she reached over and laid hers on top of it, feeling the warmth of his skin, the steady pulse of his wrist.
He looked at her, just a glance, a flicker of those warm hazel eyes in the dim light of the cab. And he smiled. Not the crooked grin she knew, the one he wore for the world. Something quieter. Something just for her.