Chapter 32

School on Monday felt like gravity snapping back into place.

Lila noticed it the moment she stepped through the front doors the way the air felt heavier, sharper, like the building itself had teeth. Over the weekend, everything with Rowan had existed in softer spaces: the quiet after practice, the car rides, the pauses where no one else was watching. Here, those pauses didn’t exist. Everything moved too fast. Everything was loud.

Lockers slammed. Someone laughed too hard down the hall. A teacher barked at students to keep moving.

Reality didn’t ease you back in. It shoved.

Lila adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder and scanned the hallway without meaning to. She told herself she wasn’t looking for Rowan. That she didn’t need to. That she was perfectly capable of walking into a building without orienting herself around one person.

Then she saw her.

Rowan stood near the trophy case, half-leaning against the glass, soccer bag slung low on one shoulder like it was an extension of her body. A few teammates clustered around her, laughing, nudging her arm, talking over each other. Rowan smiled at the right moments, nodded, said just enough. She looked comfortable.

She looked like she always did.

Except Lila knew better now.

She knew the way Rowan’s shoulders held tension even when she laughed. She knew the difference between her real smile and the one she wore like armor. She knew how much effort it took for Rowan to stand in the middle of people and still feel alone.

Rowan’s eyes flicked up.

They always did.

Their gazes caught for half a second, maybe less, but the hallway seemed to tilt anyway. Rowan’s expression softened, something unguarded slipping through before she masked it again. Not obvious. Not something anyone else would clock.

But Lila felt it like a hand pressed flat against her chest.

Rowan didn’t come over. Lila didn’t either. They both understood the choreography now, how to exist near each other without making it look deliberate. Still, when they passed, their shoulders brushed just enough to feel intentional.

“Later,” Rowan murmured, barely audible.

Lila nodded once, heart thudding.

The rest of the morning dragged. Lila sat through classes she couldn’t focus on, words sliding off her brain as she stared at whiteboards and notebook pages. Her pen tapped a nervous rhythm against the paper. Every time her phone buzzed in her pocket, her stomach flipped, even though it was never Rowan.

She kept thinking about the locker room door.

About Rowan’s voice when she’d explained Evan. About the way she’d hesitated, the way the words almost slipped out before she caught them. Lila didn’t need Rowan to say them, not yet, but the fact that they’d hovered there at all mattered more than Rowan probably understood.

Still, doubt crept in.

Had Rowan said enough?
Had Lila asked for too much?
Was this something that could survive being seen?

Lunch answered that question in the worst way.

Lila sat with her usual group, tray untouched except for a few fries she pushed around absently. The conversation flowed around her—pep rally plans, complaining about teachers, gossip that felt dull and irrelevant.

“So,” someone across the table said suddenly, tilting her head, “are you and Rowan, like… a thing now?”

The table went quiet.

The silence was sharp enough to cut.

Lila’s stomach dropped, a cold weight settling low in her chest. She hated how fast rumors moved. Hated how something fragile could be dragged into the open and dissected like entertainment. She forced herself to keep her face neutral, lips curving into a careful, practiced smile.

“What makes you think that?” she asked.

The girl shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re always together. She waits for you after practice. And—” She leaned in slightly, voice dropping. “I heard someone asked her about it today, and she didn’t say no.”

Lila’s breath caught before she could stop it.

So, it was already spreading. Already growing legs.

She swallowed, steadying herself. “Rowan doesn’t really owe anyone explanations.”

The girl laughed. “True. Guess I was just curious.”

Curious.

The word lodged under Lila’s skin and stayed there for the rest of the day. Curiosity was harmless until it wasn’t. Until it became expectation. Pressure. A demand for clarity neither of them was ready to give publicly.

By the time the final bell rang, Lila felt wrung out. Not tired, raw. Like she’d been holding herself together all day with nothing but willpower.

She found Rowan by the bleachers, sitting on the lowest step with her cleats dangling from her fingers. Her elbows rested on her knees, head tipped forward slightly. She looked smaller like this. Younger.

Vulnerable.

“Hey,” Lila said.

Rowan looked up, and the smile she gave her was immediate and real, like she’d been waiting. “Hey.”

Lila sat beside her, close enough that their knees touched. The contact grounded her. The field stretched out in front of them, empty now, the grass stirring softly in the breeze. For once, no one was watching.

They sat in silence for a moment, breathing the same air.

“Can I ask you something?” Lila said.

Rowan’s fingers stilled on the laces. “Yeah.”

“When someone asked you today,” Lila said carefully, choosing each word, “about us… what did you say?”

Rowan didn’t answer right away. She stared out at the field, jaw tight, like she was replaying the moment.

“I didn’t shut it down,” she said finally. “But I didn’t explain either.”

Lila nodded. “Why?”

Rowan exhaled slowly, shoulders rising and falling. “Because saying no would’ve been a lie.” She glanced at Lila, eyes honest and conflicted. “And saying yes… that feels like something I want to do right. Not halfway. Not because people are watching.”

The sincerity in her voice cracked something open inside Lila.

“People already are,” Lila admitted quietly.

Rowan winced. “I know.”

Lila studied her profile, the furrow between her brows, the way she worried the laces when she was anxious. “That didn’t scare me,” she said. “Not exactly.”

Rowan turned toward her fully. “Then what did?”

“That I didn’t know if you realized how much it mattered to me,” Lila said. The words came out softer than she expected. “Not the labels. Just… knowing you’re choosing me when it gets uncomfortable.”

Rowan’s hand slid over, fingers curling around Lila’s without hesitation. Her grip was warm, steady.

“I am,” she said immediately. “I choose you. I just—” She faltered, shaking her head. “I keep worrying I’m going to mess this up. That I won’t say the right thing. That I won’t be enough reassurance.”

Lila’s chest tightened. “Rowan.”

“I mean it,” Rowan continued, voice low. “I don’t want you ever thinking you’re second place. Or an option. Or something I’m unsure about.”

Lila felt tears sting her eyes, unexpected and sharp. She squeezed Rowan’s hand. “You don’t have to be perfect,” she said. “I just need you to be honest.”

Rowan swallowed. “I like you,” she said. Then, quieter, like she was testing the shape of it, “A lot.”

Lila’s heart skipped. She caught the hesitation, the way Rowan’s breath hitched just before the words changed. She didn’t push. Didn’t call it out. But she felt it, felt how close Rowan had come to saying something bigger.

Lila smiled, slow and genuine. “That’s enough. For now.”

They sat there until the sky softened into gold and pink, the day finally loosening its grip. The world still felt complicated with school, teammates, rumors, reality but sitting beside Rowan, Lila felt something steadier beneath it all.

Not certainty.

Commitment.

And for the first time all day, she believed that might be enough to carry them forward.