Athena hadn't stepped into the art room since sophomore year. It always seemed like a place for other people—quiet, talented people who didn't live under the pressure of being "perfect" or "in charge."
But now?
Now she needed something for herself.
The door creaked open and the familiar scent of paint, charcoal, and paper filled her lungs. She hesitated before stepping inside. A few students looked up—most just kept sketching, heads bent in concentration.
Mrs. DeMarco, the art teacher with messy buns and paint-stained hands, glanced up from a student's canvas. "Athena Jacobs. Been a while."
"Yeah," Athena said, tugging at the sleeve of her hoodie. "Is it… too late to join?"
Mrs. DeMarco smiled. "Art doesn't keep time, sweetheart. There's a seat right there. And the charcoal's still warm."
Athena smiled for real.
---
Meanwhile, across town at Ridgeway, Mason gripped the football tighter in his hands.
Coach had called a last-minute meeting.
"Black," he said bluntly. "Scouts from two universities are coming Friday. One from Florida, one from California. Both want to see your arm."
A murmur ran through the team. Mason's stomach dropped.
"Problem?" Coach asked.
"No," Mason said slowly. "Just… unexpected."
But that wasn't the real reason he was tense.
Because Friday night was the Ridgeway vs. Lincoln game.
The final match of the season. The most brutal rivalry game of them all.
And the scouts were coming for him.
But as Mason sat in the locker room later, helmet at his side, doubt creeped in.
He loved football. Always had. But the game wasn't just about yards and plays anymore. It had become pressure. Future. Expectations. He hadn't even had time to think about what he wanted outside of it.
The only time he felt like himself lately was when he was with Athena.
He needed to talk to her.
---
That night, they met at their usual spot—the hill overlooking the town, halfway between both schools. The stars blinked above them, cold and steady.
Mason sat beside her, kicking at the grass. "Scouts are coming Friday."
Athena's eyes widened. "Wow. That's huge."
"Yeah," he said softly. "But I don't know if I'm ready."
She tilted her head. "You're scared?"
"I'm more scared of not knowing if I'm doing it for me… or just because it's what everyone expects."
She nodded slowly. "I get it. I've been asking myself the same thing."
He looked at her, his voice barely above a whisper. "What if I don't want this life forever? What if I want something… different?"
"Then you take control of your story, Mason," she said gently. "Like I did. You don't owe anyone a future you didn't choose."
He stared at her, stunned. "When did you become so wise?"
She grinned, leaning on his shoulder. "Somewhere between quitting cheer and getting paint on my shoes."
He laughed, tension loosening in his chest.
Whatever came next, they'd figure it out.
Together.