Chapter 45

Rowan had played in front of crowds her whole life.

She knew the sound of cleats scraping turf, the sharp whistle of a ref cutting through adrenaline, the way noise blurred into something distant once the game started. She knew how to breathe through pressure, how to hold steady when everyone was watching.

What she didn’t know was what she was learning right now, pacing the locker room with her jersey half-on and her heart hammering way too fast; was how to stand still when the pressure had nothing to do with winning.

“Rowan, you’re going to wear a hole in the floor,” Harper said, tying her cleats on the bench. “Sit down.”

Rowan stopped pacing but didn’t sit. She flexed her hands, then clenched them again.

“I’m fine,” she said automatically.

Harper looked up, unimpressed. “You look like you’re about to take a penalty kick blindfolded.”

Rowan huffed out a breath. “That might be easier.”

That earned her a laugh from a few teammates, but Harper’s gaze sharpened. She stood, stepping closer.

“You’re doing something tonight,” Harper said quietly.

Rowan froze. “What?”

“You’ve been wired all day,” Harper continued. “Focused, but not on the game. On something else.”

Rowan opened her mouth to deflect. Closed it.

Harper’s expression softened. “Is it Lila?”

Rowan nodded before she could stop herself.

Harper smiled, slow, knowing. “Finally.”

Rowan exhaled. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” Harper said gently. “But I’ve never seen you look at someone the way you look at her. Not even close.”

Rowan swallowed. “That’s why I have to do this.”

Harper studied her face for a long moment, then nodded. “Okay. Then go win first.”

Rowan laughed weakly. “Yeah. That’s part of the plan.”

When Rowan stepped onto the field, the stadium buzzed with energy. Friday night lights, student section packed, cheer squad already lining the sidelines.

And then—

There.

Lila.

Front row of the bleachers, just like she promised. Wearing Rowan’s old warm-up jacket, the one she’d borrowed weeks ago and never gave back. Her hair was pulled up, eyes bright, attention already locked on Rowan like there was nowhere else she’d rather be.

Rowan’s chest tightened.

This was it.

The game started fast. The opposing team came out aggressive, pushing hard down the wings. Rowan anchored the midfield, voice sharp and clear, instincts taking over.

But even in motion, even as sweat slicked her skin and adrenaline roared, Rowan felt it grounding her.

Lila was there.

Every time Rowan glanced up after a pass or sprinted back on defense, she could spot her. Clapping. Yelling Rowan’s name. Smiling like she wasn’t afraid of who might see.

At halftime, they were tied 1–1.

Coach talked strategy. Rowan nodded, focused, but beneath it all, something steady settled in her chest.

This wasn’t about fear anymore.

It was about certainty.

The second half was brutal. The opposing team scored early, pushing them behind. The crowd grew restless.

Rowan called for the ball.

She pushed harder than she had all season—pressing, distributing, fighting through tackles. She could hear Lila yelling now, loud and unfiltered.

“ROWAN—YOU’VE GOT THIS!”

The sound hit her like fuel.

With ten minutes left, Rowan threaded a perfect through ball, setting up the equalizer.

2–2.

Five minutes later, she took a shot herself, low, fast, unstoppable.

The net rippled.

The crowd erupted.

Rowan didn’t celebrate right away.

She turned.

Looked straight at Lila.

Lila was on her feet, hands over her mouth, eyes shining.

Rowan pointed at her, just for a second.

Just enough.

The final whistle blew not long after.

They’d won.

Teammates swarmed her, shouts and laughter crashing over her in waves. Someone dumped water over her head. Harper wrapped her in a crushing hug.

“You’re unreal,” Harper laughed. “Absolutely unreal.”

Rowan laughed back but her eyes were already searching the stands.

She peeled away from the chaos, heart pounding harder than it had all game.

The announcer’s voice crackled over the speakers, recapping the win, hyping the crowd. The cheer squad regrouped at the edge of the field.

Rowan took a breath.

Then another.

She jogged toward the sideline, waving down the ref. “Hey—can I grab the mic? Just for a second.”

The ref raised an eyebrow. “You’re not about to start a riot, are you?”

Rowan smiled, nervous but steady. “No. Just… something important.”

The ref hesitated, then handed it over.

The sound of the mic echoed slightly as Rowan took it, fingers tight around the handle.

The crowd quieted, curious murmurs rippling through the bleachers.

Rowan stepped to the center of the field.

Under the lights.

In front of everyone.

Her pulse roared in her ears.

“Uh—hi,” she said, voice carrying farther than she expected. A ripple of laughter moved through the stands. Rowan smiled, grounding herself. “I promise this won’t take long.”

She scanned the bleachers.

Found Lila instantly.

Lila stood frozen, eyes wide, hands clasped tight in front of her chest.

Rowan’s heart nearly burst.

“I spend a lot of time on this field,” Rowan continued. “I know how to play through pressure. I know how to stay quiet when things get complicated.”

She swallowed.

“But there’s someone here who taught me that staying quiet isn’t the same as being brave.”

The crowd shifted. Whispers sparked.

Rowan’s voice steadied. “Someone who showed up for me, even when I didn’t always know how to show up for her.”

Lila’s eyes filled with tears.

Rowan felt her own burn.

She took a step forward, pointing gently toward the stands.

“Lila Moreno, can you come down here?”

The entire stadium exploded.

Cheers. Gasps. Someone screamed, “OH MY GOD.”

Lila hesitated for half a second, then made her way down the steps, cheeks flushed, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe this was real.

Rowan waited.

Didn’t look away.

When Lila reached the field, Rowan handed the mic to the ref for just a moment, stepping closer instead.

Close enough that the noise faded.

“Hey,” Rowan said softly.

Lila laughed shakily. “You’re insane.”

Rowan smiled. “Maybe.”

She took Lila’s hands in hers, grounding herself in the warmth, the reality of her.

The ref handed the mic back.

Rowan lifted it again but this time, she didn’t look at the crowd.

She looked only at Lila.

“I spent too long being afraid of choosing something real,” Rowan said. “Too long worrying about what it would cost me instead of what it was already giving me.”

Her voice wavered but she didn’t stop.

“You make me better,” she said. “You make me honest. And I don’t want to hide that. Not now. Not ever.”

Tears slipped down Lila’s cheeks.

Rowan’s eyes burned.

“So,” Rowan said, breathless, “if you’ll have me, if you’re willing, will you be my girlfriend?”

For a heartbeat,

Silence.

Then,

“Yes,” Lila laughed through tears. “Yes. Oh my god, yes.”

The crowd erupted.

Rowan barely heard it.

She dropped the mic and pulled Lila into her arms, kissing her without hesitation, open, unguarded, in front of everyone.

Lila kissed her back just as fiercely, hands fisting in Rowan’s jersey like she was anchoring herself to the moment.

When they finally pulled apart, foreheads pressed together, the world still roaring around them, Lila whispered, “You chose me.”

Rowan smiled, tears finally slipping free. “Always.”

This time, 

Out loud.

In front of everyone.

And with no fear left at all.