Chapter 3

Monday morning made everything worse.

Rowan felt it the second she stepped onto campus.

Friday night had been a win but wins never stayed clean at Halecrest. They turned into rumors by Sunday and expectations by Monday. People looked at her differently now. Impressed, curious, waiting for something. She adjusted the strap of her backpack and walked faster, cleats swapped for sneakers but posture still sharp, still captain.

She hated the way her ankle ached. Hated even more that it reminded her of Lila Moreno.

She was halfway down the main hallway when she heard her name.

“—Rowan Hale doesn’t even flinch,” someone said.
“She’s terrifying.”
“Yeah, but did you see the way Lila—”

Rowan stopped listening.

Her locker slammed open louder than necessary. She shoved her books inside and exhaled through her nose, grounding herself. None of this mattered. It was noise. Background static.

Then laughter cut through it. Light, easy, familiar.

Rowan didn’t look at first.

She knew better.

When she finally did, Lila stood across the hallway, surrounded as usual. Cheer jacket unzipped. Hair loose today, falling over one shoulder like she didn’t need it pulled back to stay in control. People leaned toward her when she spoke, like gravity worked differently around her.

Lila glanced up.

Their eyes met.

This time, Lila smiled.

Not friendly. Not warm.

Sharp.

Rowan shut her locker and walked straight toward her.

“Got something you want to say?” Rowan asked, stopping just short of invading her space.

The laughter around Lila died instantly.

Lila looked Rowan over slowly, gaze deliberate. “Shouldn’t you be icing that ankle, Captain?”

Rowan stiffened. “Shouldn’t you be practicing smiles in a mirror?”

A few people murmured. Someone shifted awkwardly.

Lila’s eyes flashed. “Funny. I didn’t realize soccer made people insecure.”

Rowan leaned in slightly. “I didn’t realize cheer required commentary.”

Lila straightened. “You don’t own the hallway.”

“No,” Rowan said evenly. “But I don’t pretend I do.”

Silence stretched between them, taut and electric.

Lila stepped aside, gesturing mockingly. “After you.”

Rowan brushed past her on purpose, shoulder clipping Lila’s just enough to make a point.

The contact sent a jolt through her that she absolutely refused to acknowledge.

She didn’t slow down.

Practice that afternoon was brutal.

Rowan ran drills harder than necessary, snapped orders sharper than usual. When passes missed their mark, she corrected them immediately. When someone hesitated, she pushed.

Coach noticed.

“You’re playing angry,” Coach said, pulling her aside halfway through scrimmage.

Rowan wiped sweat from her brow. “I’m playing focused.”

Coach studied her for a long moment. “Those aren’t the same thing.”

Rowan didn’t answer.

Her ankle throbbed, but she ignored it. Pain was predictable. Pain didn’t mess with her head.

After practice, Rowan headed toward the locker room, already exhausted and irritated at herself for reasons she didn’t want to examine.

She almost made it.

“Rowan.”

She froze.

Lila stood near the gym doors, cheer bag slung over her shoulder like she hadn’t been waiting like this was just coincidence.

Rowan turned slowly. “What.”

Lila arched a brow. “That’s the gratitude I get?”

“For?” Rowan snapped.

“For not telling everyone you limped your way through the second half.”

Rowan’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t limp.”

Lila’s gaze flicked to her ankle. “Sure.”

“Say what you came to say,” Rowan said. “Or get out of my way.”

Lila stepped closer. “You don’t have to be like this.”

Rowan laughed once, sharp. “Like what? Honest?”

“No,” Lila said quietly. “Defensive.”

That landed harder than Rowan expected.

“I don’t owe you anything,” Rowan said.

“I didn’t say you did.”

They stared at each other, something restless humming between them. Rowan hated it, hated the way Lila’s presence threw her off balance, hated that she couldn’t predict her.

“Good game,” Lila said again, softer this time.

Rowan hesitated. “Yeah. Whatever.”

Lila’s mouth twitched, like she almost smiled. Then she turned and walked away.

Rowan stood there longer than she should have.

The pep rally meeting was announced the next day.

Rowan scanned the posted list once, then again, just to be sure.

Soccer Captain — Rowan Hale
Cheer Captain — Lila Moreno

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Rowan muttered.

“Problem?”

Lila’s voice came from behind her.

Rowan turned. “You.”

“Me,” Lila confirmed, glancing at the list. “Looks like we’re stuck.”

“Temporary,” Rowan said flatly.

Lila smiled. “That’s what they all say.”

They ended up alone in the student council room after school, fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead. Rowan took the seat farthest from Lila and crossed her arms.

“Let’s divide responsibilities,” Rowan said. “Fast.”

Lila nodded. “Fine. But I’m not just handling chants.”

Rowan scoffed. “Wouldn’t dream of limiting you.”

Lila shot her a look. “You really don’t like me.”

“I don’t like distractions,” Rowan said.

“And yet,” Lila replied calmly, “you’re very focused on me.”

Rowan snapped her notebook shut. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Lila leaned back in her chair, studying her. “Careful, Hale. That kind of tension usually means something else.”

Rowan’s pulse spiked, sharp and unwelcome.

“It means we don’t get along,” Rowan said.

Lila smiled. Slow, knowing. “If you say so.”

They worked in tight silence after that, the air thick with unspoken things Rowan refused to name.

When they finally packed up, dusk had settled outside.

“You hate me,” Lila said casually, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

Rowan didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Lila paused, then laughed softly. “Good.”

She left without another word.

Rowan stayed behind, staring at the empty chair across from her, irritation buzzing beneath her skin.

Enemies were supposed to be simple.

This one wasn’t playing by the rules and Rowan hated that most of all.