The victory over Ashbourne felt amazing. It made the team believe they were invincible, that fate was on their side. With only three games left in the season, the league title felt so close.
The following Sunday, the trio met in town, feeling less pressure. The air was cold, but the mood was bright. They settled on their usual bench in the square, sipping hot chocolates.
"I'm still thinking about it," Callum said for the third time, staring into his cup. "That pass. From you, Mason. A forty-yard, perfect-weight pass that split the defense. It was beautiful. I'm almost mad I didn't think of it."
"Shut up," Mason grunted, pulling his coat tighter. "I saw you running. I kicked the ball. It was just a lucky kick."
"A 'lucky kick' that won us the game," Ethan replied, smiling. "You're not just a destroyer anymore, mate. You're a playmaker."
"Don't ever call me that," Mason said, and they all laughed. The camaraderie was back, stronger than ever. The stress from the scouts, the selfish tendencies, the fear of being left behind—it had all been burned away in the heat of the title race, leaving behind the solid, unbreakable bond of their friendship.
"Still," Callum said, his eyes shining. "One-point lead, three games to go. Riverton and Westford are right behind us. We can't slip up. We've got two away games, right? Then the last game is at home?"
"Harrington at home," Ethan confirmed. "The last day of the season."
"Perfect," Callum said, leaning back with a satisfied, confident grin. "Winning the league in front of the home crowd. What a way to go out, eh, Ethan?"
Before Ethan could respond, Callum's expression changed from relaxed to alert. "Lads," he whispered, sitting up straight. "Don't look. Don't look. Red hat."
Ethan and Mason both immediately looked. Walking across the square, just as they had weeks ago, were the three girls. And there, in the middle, was the girl with the bright red hat, laughing at something her friend said.
"Oh, for goodness' sake," Mason groaned, sinking lower in his seat.
"This is it," Callum said, his confidence soaring from the Ashbourne goal. He ran a hand through his hair, stood up, and brushed away a non-existent piece of lint from his jacket. "What are you doing?" Ethan asked, a mix of amusement and horror in his voice.
"I'm multitasking," Callum said, flashing a grin. "Winning the league and getting a girl's number. Watch the master."
Before Mason could stop him, Callum crossed the square. The girls paused as he approached, their conversation falling silent. "Excuse me," Callum said, flashing his most charming smile. "I know this is random, but I saw you walking by and had to say hi. I'm Callum."
The girl in the red hat looked at him, then at Ethan and Mason on the bench, and a small smile of recognition appeared on her lips. "We know who you are," she said clearly. "You're the Crestwood boys. You're top of the league."
Callum was momentarily thrown off. "Oh. Yeah, we are. Do you... follow the team?" "My little brother plays for the U12s," she said. "He talks about you all the time. Especially him." She nodded toward Ethan. "The one going to West Brom. You're Ethan, right?" Ethan, standing thirty feet away, gave an awkward half wave.
"That's him," Callum said, recovering quickly. "Our famous player. I'm the one who stays and scores all the goals."
The girl laughed. "I saw the result against Ashbourne. A 1-0 win, right? My brother said it was a last-minute miracle."
"It wasn't a miracle, it was pure skill," Callum said smoothly. "But, seeing the score on paper is one thing. You should see it live."
He leaned in with confidence. "You should come and watch a game. Our last game of the season is at home, in three weeks. Against Harrington. It could be the one where we win the league."
The girl held his gaze, a playful smile on her face. "You're that confident?"
"I am," Callum said. "We're going to win it. You should be there to see it."
"I'm Mia," she said finally. "And... maybe. You'd better not lose before then."
"It's a date," Callum said.
"It's a 'maybe'," Mia corrected, before her friends pulled her away. "Good luck!" she called back.
Callum returned to the bench, his chest puffed out, looking like he had just won another cup final. "So, 'Mia'," Ethan said, trying not to laugh. "Smooth."
"It's a 'maybe'," Mason grunted, mimicking the girl's voice.
"'Maybe' is just a 'yes' that's playing hard to get," Callum said, grinning widely. "Right, lads. We've got two away games to win. I've got a league title to secure and a girl to impress."