Saturday was bright and sunny. Warm, even. Like summer was in no rush to end. The field in front of Westbridge High was loud and colorful. Groups of students clustered around the bleachers with drinks and snacks in their hands. Some wore jerseys with numbers on their backs. Some were just sitting on the grass, hanging out, waiting for the game to start.
Elena leaned against the back of the crowd, a cold bottle of water in her hand. She had never been to a school game before—not at Westbridge, not at St. Claire. St. Claire had competitions, yes. But they were all stiff and formal. And at St. Claire, everyone clapped politely. No one shouted. No one painted their faces or brought signs.
Here, everything was loud. Messy. Real.
"Over here!" Bella said, waving from the middle row of bleachers. She was one of the only students who had greeted Elena when she transferred. Bella didn't look at her like she didn't belong.
Elena climbed up the steps and sat next to her. Her ponytail swung behind her as she lowered herself into the seat. Up here, the field loomed long in front of them. The players were already stretching.
She didn't have to look for long to spot Liam.
He wore a dark green jersey, his number 10 on the back. His hair was wet, either from sweat or water. His jaw was set in a way that made him look angry, like he was in the middle of a fight and nobody else could see it. The second the ball hit his foot, he was different. He moved faster, with purpose. Too controlled for a school game.
Bella leaned in toward her. "You're staring."
"I'm observing." Elena said, without taking her eyes off of him.
"Same thing."
The game started. The whistle blew and the players took off. Liam was fast. Faster than a lot of the others. He didn't jog. He attacked. Every time the ball rolled into his range, he pounced on it with everything he had. His steps were precise. Focused. No wasted movement. No fear.
People around Elena were yelling and cheering. But she didn't say anything. She just stared at Liam. A few minutes in, he got kicked hard as he fought over the ball with one of the other players. The other guy went down and grabbed his shoulder. Liam barely glanced at him. He passed the ball to a teammate and went on.
"Holy shit, what's his deal?" Bella whispered. "Is he even supposed to be playing today? He's playing like it's the finals."
Elena saw what she meant. He wasn't there to have fun. He moved like he had something to prove. Or like he had something he needed to burn out of his chest.
At halftime, the teams went to the benches to rest. Liam took off his jersey and wiped his face with it. Elena blinked. She didn't expect him to be so thin. Not bulky or anything. But solid. Toned with real muscle, the kind of muscle from work, not taking selfies in the gym.
"I'm pretty sure I know why you transferred schools," Bella said.
Elena rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her mouth. "He's just good at soccer. And probably… some other things."
"And you're just really into his passing game," Bella snipped back.
Second half started and the players hit the field again. The other team had a good striker. For a while, it looked like they might even take the lead. But then Liam stole a pass and bolted down the field, knocking over two defenders with his speed. He narrowed his eyes as he neared the goal. And then he kicked.
The ball soared.
The net swayed.
The crowd leapt to their feet.
Bella screamed. The people around them screamed, too. Even Elena clapped, a smile blooming across her face before she could stop it.
Liam didn't celebrate.
He jogged back toward his team, a half smile on his face. But as he passed the bleachers, his eyes flicked up.
He saw her.
It was only a second. But it was there.
Their gazes met. Just like that morning in class. But this time, he didn't just nod. He smirked. A little. One corner of his mouth twitched, like he knew something Elena didn't.
Elena's heart did that stupid leap again.
The game ended with Westbridge as the victors. Players were sweaty and tired. Some of them were limping. But the crowd was cheering, slapping hands and fists. A few students were chanting Liam's name.
He didn't even look in their direction.
He walked off the field and toward the back where the gym doors were. All by himself.
Elena descended from the bleachers.
"You're going after him, aren't you?" Bella asked.
"No." Elena said, already moving.
Liam was near the benches, gathering his bag when she caught up with him.
"Good game," she said.
He turned, his shirt back on now, but his hair still wet and a bruise blooming on his arm.
"You watched."
"Yeah. I wasn't going to, but…" She shrugged. "You're hard to ignore."
He stared at her. Not in an ugly way. More like he was trying to decide if she was mocking him.
"I don't play for fun," he said, at last.
"I know."
"I play because it's the only thing that makes sense sometimes."
Elena nodded. "You're really good. You know that, right?"
He looked away. "Doesn't matter."
"Why?"
"Because being good doesn't change anything." He slung his bag over his shoulder. "You're still from St. Claire. And I'm still me."
Elena frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Liam gave her a long look. "It means I'm not the kind of guy your world makes space for. Doesn't matter how fast I am or how many goals I score. I'll still be the boy with no future."
"You don't know that," she said softly.
He shook his head and walked past her.
Elena stood there for a minute, the crowd's noise muffled in the distance behind her. Then she turned and looked back at the field. Where Liam had played like there was fire in his chest. Like breathing only happened when he was winning.
She didn't know what she wanted to do yet. But she knew one thing:
She didn't want him to feel like he had no future.
Not if she could help it.