Daisy
Wednesday morning, Daisy woke, and the first thing she did was text Hayden a picture of two hair clip options for the day:
Butterfly or Rainbows?
She sent the text and hopped in the shower, thinking about what Hayden might say back. She washed her hair, seeing flashes of Hayden in her mind. The way his smile was slightly crooked, and how rare it was to see. But, she was seeing it more and more. And the thought of that made her absolutely giddy.
After her shower, she checked her phone, sitting down in front of her mirror with her hairbrush and clips.
Butterflies, he texted back. But you'd look beautiful either way. Good morning, by the way.
Daisy braided her hair and attached the butterfly pins to it. The sky blue of the butterflies' wings is a stark contrast to the red of her hair. She smiled at her reflection, re-reading his text: You'd look beautiful either way.
--
After classes, Daisy walked toward her dorm, homework weighing heavily in her bag. As she walked, she heard laughter from a group of guys standing in the common area. Hayden was standing with them, leaning against the trunk of the tree they were standing under. He had one hand wrapped around the strap of his bag and rolled his eyes at something someone had said to him.
When he looked up and saw her, she smiled at him.
Hayden looked at her for a beat longer, and she gave a small wave.
"Hayden, you even listening?" someone called, but he was already pushing off the tree.
"Gotta go," he said without looking back, making his way toward her.
When he reached her, that rare smile broke across his face.
"Butterflies," Hayden said softly, his hand lifting to gently touch one of the clips. "Good choice."
He took her bag almost automatically, the gesture so natural it made her heart warm.
"Someone told me I'd look beautiful with them, so I had to listen," she said, smiling.
Hayden smiled down at her; his usual guarded eyes were soft, something she was learning was reserved only for her. "How were classes?"
She shrugged, taking his hand in hers. "Classes were classes. I learned how to stitch a vein today, which was arguably pretty cool."
"You stitched a vein today, and you're just casually mentioning it?" Hayden shook his head. "You're gonna be an incredible doctor someday. Saving lives and stuff. And I'll be... I don't know, hopefully not still struggling through calculus."
She laughed, smacking his arm playfully with her free hand. "You're gonna be great." She moved in front of him, walking backward, and took both of his hands in hers as they walked. "I'll bet you'll be in the NFL."
Hayden's steps slowed, and he tightened his grip on her hands. Daisy felt the shift in his energy immediately; The way his jaw tensed, the flicker of something vulnerable in those steel-gray eyes.
"The NFL." He said it like he was testing the words, like they belonged to someone else's life. "That's a pretty big bet."
"I have a good track record with predictions," she said, grinning up at him.
"Yeah? What else are you predicting?" His voice dropped lower, and Daisy's heart did that annoying flutter thing it had been doing lately whenever he looked at her like that.
She tilted her head, pretending to think while her mind raced ahead. "Hmm. Let's see. You'll pass calculus with at least a B. You'll have another incredible game on Saturday. And..." She paused, biting her lip. "You'll stop being so surprised when good things happen to you."
Something shifted in his expression, raw and unguarded. "That last one's a pretty ambitious prediction."
"Well, someone's gotta have faith in you." She squeezed his hands, feeling the calluses on his palms, the warmth of his skin against hers. "Might as well be the girl who's gonna be stitching veins while you're making tackles on national television."
He pulled her closer, stopping their forward momentum entirely. Daisy stumbled slightly, and suddenly his hands were on her waist, steadying her. The air between them felt charged, electric. They stood there under the streetlights, close enough that she could see the exact moment vulnerability cracked through his carefully constructed walls.
"What if I don't make it?" The question came out quieter than she expected, and Daisy's chest tightened at the fear threading through his words. "What if the scouts lose interest, or I get injured, or I'm just... not good enough?"
"Then you'll figure something else out," she said, and she meant it with every fiber of her being. "You're more than football, Hayden. Even if you don't believe that yet."
"I want to believe it." His hands were still on her waist, thumbs tracing small circles that made coherent thought increasingly difficult. "You make me want to believe a lot of things I've spent years convincing myself aren't true."
Daisy's breath caught. "Like what?"
"Like maybe I deserve someone like you in my corner." His voice was rough with emotion, and Daisy felt her heart crack open a little wider. "Like maybe I'm worth more than what I can do on a field. Like maybe..." He stopped, swallowed hard. "Like maybe I could actually be happy."
She reached up to cup his cheek, feeling the slight stubble beneath her palm, the way he leaned into her touch like he was starving for it. "You deserve all of that and more."
Hayden's eyes closed for just a moment, and Daisy watched the play of streetlight across his features: The sharp line of his jaw, the exhaustion carved into the corners of his eyes, the vulnerability he was finally letting her see. When he opened them again, there was something determined in his gaze that made her pulse quicken.
"Then I'm gonna try. To believe it. To be the person you seem to think I am."
"You already are that person," she said softly, thumb brushing across his cheekbone. "You just need to let yourself see it."
And standing there with his hands on her waist and her palm against his face, Daisy realized with startling clarity that she was in serious trouble. Because this wasn't just tutoring anymore. This wasn't just showing up to games or sharing fries at diners. This was something bigger, something that made her carefully organized life plan feel suddenly negotiable.
This was falling.
Hayden leaned down and kissed her, urgent and passionate. His hand covered the small of her back, pulling her impossibly closer. Daisy wrapped her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers through his hair. When they pulled away, Daisy looked up at him, running her hand from the back of his head to his cheek, then down to his hand.
He squeezed her hand. "Also, I may have done all the homework problems you assigned. Twice. Just so I could have an excuse to see that proud smile again."
Her eyes lit up, her heart swelling so much she was sure it would burst. "You're sweet. You know that?"
Hayden froze for a half-second, then his arms came around her waist, pulling her close again.
"Pretty sure that's the first time anyone's used that word for me," he said, voice rough. "You make me want to be."
He leaned down so only she could hear.
"Tomorrow can't come soon enough. I miss you even when you're standing right here."
She smiled, that same smile reserved just for him, and pulled him down to kiss her lips. Soft, sweet, delicate. When they pulled away a few seconds later, she took his hand again, continuing the walk toward her dorm.
"People don't call you sweet because you don't let them see that side of you," she said, voicing her observations out loud. "Why not?"
He walked in silence for a moment, then answered.
"Because every time I did, I got burned."
He told her about his mom leaving when he was twelve. About acting out. Shoplifting, graffiti, arrests. About his dad trying, then getting tired. About the fight freshman year, the words he couldn't take back, and the silence that followed.
"So I learned that letting people see you care, letting them see the soft parts, it just gives them ammunition. A target. It's easier to be cold. To keep everyone at a distance where they can't hurt you."
He stopped, turning to face her fully.
"But then you showed up with your color-coded notes and your patience, and you just... saw through all of it. Didn't let me push you away. You make me think maybe being sweet, being vulnerable, maybe that's not weakness. Maybe it's just been worth it with the wrong people."
He reached up, his fingers tracing her cheekbone.
"You're not the wrong people, Daisy. You're the first right person I've had in a long time."
She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, he was still looking at her, features soft.
"I'm not in the business of burning people," she said quietly. "I don't know a whole lot about relationships, but... I know that what I feel is real."
She glanced at the entrance to her dorm, then back at him.
"Come in. For coffee." She searched his face. "I want to talk more. And not just about calculus on our designated days."
She watched his breath catch in his throat.
"You feel it too," he said softly. "That this is real."
She nodded, looking up at him.
"Yeah," he said, voice rough with emotion. "I want that too. To talk more. To know everything about you that isn't calculus-related."
He picked up her bag again and followed her inside.