St. Ivy Soccer Grounds – After School
"You're in."
Those two words dropped like thunder.
I blinked up at Rei Nakamura as he tossed me a training bib.
"Me?"
He nodded. "Scrimmage teams. Let's see how you move under pressure."
"Didn't realize I'd need shin guards for a 'backup' role."
Tyler patted my back. "You'll be fine. Just don't make me look bad."
He grinned. I didn't.
Because standing across the field, already stretching like he was training for war… was Miles Everett.
And he was staring straight at me.
Sidelines – Girls' Section
"I still can't believe he's playing," one girl whispered. "I thought he was just the pretty backup."
"He is. But also... apparently good at everything."
"Do you think his hair still smells nice after all that running?"
"Definitely. He's not human."
Sofia smirked from her seat on the bench, legs crossed, phone out. "If he scores today, I'm getting his number tattooed."
Luna, sketchpad resting on her knees, didn't even look up. "I'm drawing him regardless."
And not far from them, standing just beneath the bleachers, were Emma and Amaya.
They weren't sitting.
They weren't chatting.
They were watching.
Amaya's Perspective – Quiet Heartbeat
Amaya clutched the strap of her shoulder bag tightly.
Jay looked different out there.
Not just tired or playful or teasing.
Focused. Sharp. His eyes were serious. He moved like he wasn't trying to impress anyone.
But she was impressed anyway.
Watching him run—shirt sticking to his back, hair messy from the wind, mouth slightly parted as he caught his breath—
Her cheeks warmed.
Then cooled the moment she noticed Emma beside her, arms crossed, saying nothing.
Amaya hesitated. Then softly asked, "Do you think he'll play in the real match?"
Emma didn't look at her. "If he plays like this… Rei might not have a choice."
Amaya nodded quietly.
But inside?
She wasn't so quiet.
On the Field – Scrimmage Begins
The whistle blew.
Tyler passed wide. I ran to receive. A second-year cut across, trying to pressure—too slow.
One touch. Turn. Pass.
Tyler yelled, "There you go!"
And I felt it.
That thrill. That rhythm. It wasn't even a real match, but something in me kicked in like instinct.
I wasn't just the heir of a rich family.
I wasn't just the class rep.
Right now?
I was a player.
Miles came at me hard during the next play. Shouldered into me harder than necessary.
I didn't fall.
Instead, I turned with the ball and cut around him.
He cursed low. I heard it.
But louder still?
The cheers from the sideline.
Emma's Perspective – Losing Control
Emma had watched Jay flirt.
Watched him tease.
Watched him dance through hallway chaos and club drama like it meant nothing.
But she'd never seen this.
He was calm. Confident. Dangerous in a way that wasn't about words or smirks or playful one-liners.
This Jay?
This one was quiet intensity.
And it made her forget how to breathe.
The sun hit his face just right as he looked up after a pass—eyes searching, lips parted, sweat on his neck.
Emma swallowed.
Then scolded herself.
Get it together.
But she wasn't alone.
She noticed Amaya beside her—hands clutched tight, lips gently parted, gaze soft.
And for a moment…
She hated how warm her own chest felt.
Back on the Field – Final Play
Tyler sent a long ball down the line. I sprinted for it. Miles followed close—shoulder to shoulder.
He tried to trip me.
I didn't let him.
I crossed just before the touchline—and the shot landed square in the net.
Rei blew the whistle. "Goal."
Silence.
Then claps. Not wild cheers. But real, respectful claps from the team.
Tyler jogged over. "You're a freak, man. A pretty, golden freak."
I panted, chest heaving, heart racing. But I smiled.
Until I saw Miles storm off toward the locker room.
Didn't even shake hands.
Rei watched him go, arms folded.
Then looked back at me.
"…You might not be backup for long."
After Practice – Under the Lights
The sky was fading to orange.
I sat on the edge of the bench, towel around my neck, water bottle resting against my leg.
Someone approached.
"Hey."
I looked up—Emma.
Hair a little wind-tousled. Arms crossed, but less aggressive than usual. Something in her expression was soft. Careful.
"You, okay?" I asked.
"You looked… good out there."
"Thanks."
"You'll probably get field time. Everyone saw it."
"I didn't want to upstage anyone."
"You didn't," she said. Then paused. "…You just made people remember why they keep looking."
I stared at her.
And maybe the silence stretched a little too long, because that's when I heard:
"Jay!"
Amaya. Small. Pink in the face. Holding out a water bottle with both hands.
"You looked tired," she said. "I thought…"
I took it, gently. Our hands brushed. Hers were cold.
"Thanks," I said, quieter now.
She nodded.
Emma stepped back, letting us speak—but not leaving.
Just watching.
Smiling.
Not in triumph.
In curiosity.