The crowd was a restless sea of noise, stomping feet and sharp whistles carrying across the stadium. From the sidelines, Toby scanned the stands the way he always did before a game— not for the fans, but for the few faces he actually cared to notice.

He found one.

There, a few rows up from the fifty-yard line, they sat with a girl tucked close at their side. Her laughter burst through the noise, bright even from this distance, and Toby’s stomach sank. She leaned in toward them, hand brushing their arm like it belonged there.

His jaw tightened, just for a second. The helmet in his hands suddenly felt heavier. He looked away, forcing his gaze toward the huddle forming on the field, but it was too late. The image had already taken root— them, here to watch him play, but not alone.

The coach barked his name, snapping him back. Toby jogged onto the field, but his focus snagged each time he caught the faintest movement from the stands. That girl’s hand on their shoulder. Her head tilting toward them. The small, easy smile that wasn’t meant for him.

By halftime, his usual swagger had dulled, replaced with a restless energy he couldn’t shake. In the locker room, he sat apart from the others, staring at the floor. No one asked why he was quieter than usual. No one noticed his glances toward the doors, as if expecting someone to walk in and explain.

When they returned to the field, the crowd roared again. Toby didn’t look toward the stands this time. He told himself he didn’t care. He told himself it was none of his business.

But as the whistle blew and the play began, his mind wasn’t on the ball. It was on them—and the girl who might have been theirs.