Chapter 3 — The Field Encounter

Aurora

The walk home after school felt endless, the Texas sun relentlessly bearing down and soaking everything in a golden haze. My sneakers scraped against the pavement, the heat radiating up in waves as if the earth itself was pushing back. I wasn’t even sure how I’d ended up in this part of town. I’d planned to take the usual route Remi had shown me that morning, but my mind had wandered, replaying snippets of conversations and stares from the day. Before I knew it, I’d turned down an unfamiliar street, and now the football field stretched out ahead of me, its emerald-green surface gleaming in the late-afternoon light.

Hawks Stadium loomed large, its towering lights casting long, lazy shadows across the bleachers. From this angle, the field felt vast and imposing yet oddly peaceful, like it was waiting for the chaos of Friday night to come alive. My steps slowed as I approached, the plaques near the entrance catching my eye. They gleamed in the sunlight, commemorating championship seasons and football legends whose names I didn’t recognize. I wondered if my dad’s name would one day be etched alongside theirs. The thought made my stomach twist with a mixture of pride and unease.

I brushed my fingers over the charms on my bracelet—a quiet reminder of Mom and her knack for grounding me in moments like this. I could almost hear her voice telling me it was okay to feel out of place; it meant something new was beginning. Still, standing there, I wasn’t sure whether Greenhill would ever feel like home.

And then I saw him.

Will Carter was in the middle of the field, tossing a football into the air and catching it with the kind of ease that made you forget it was a skill at all. His sandy blond hair glimmered under the sunlight, strands falling just enough to shadow his blue-gray eyes. The green-and-gold practice jersey clung to his frame, already damp with sweat, as if he belonged there in a way that was effortless and absolute. It looked like something out of a small-town football montage—a scene so picture-perfect it grated against my nerves.

My first instinct was to turn around and melt back into the anonymity of the street.

Too late.

“Hey!” His voice rang out, warm and casual, like we were already old friends.

I froze, cursing my luck. “Uh, hey.”

Will jogged over, football tucked under one arm, his crooked grin firmly in place. Up close, he was even more annoyingly attractive than he had been in the cafeteria—blue-gray eyes sharp yet inviting, the faintest dimple teasing at his left cheek. My face warmed under his gaze, but I refused to let it show.

“What brings you out here?” he asked, stopping a few feet away. His tone was easy, but there was an unspoken curiosity in his eyes, like he was trying to figure me out.

“Just walking home,” I said quickly, though it wasn’t entirely true. “Took a wrong turn.”

He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Convenient.”

I crossed my arms, hoping it made me look unfazed. “What about you? Don’t you have a team to practice with or something?”

“Not today.” He spun the football casually in his hands. “Sometimes it’s nice to just be out here alone—clear my head.” His words dipped into something quieter, almost wistful, but then he recovered with a teasing tilt of his head. “You play?”

“Play what?”

“Football,” he said, his tone laced with amusement.

I snorted. “Do I look like I play football?”

“Maybe,” he said, his gaze sweeping over me with a mixture of playful appraisal and challenge. “Or maybe you’re just scared I’d beat you.”

“Beat me?” I repeated, incredulous. “At football?”

He shrugged, his grin never leaving. “Couldn’t hurt to test it out.”

Years of scrapping with my brothers had taught me one thing: never back down from a challenge. Something about the way Will said it—like he already knew I’d say yes—ignited a spark of competitiveness I couldn’t ignore. He radiated confidence, sure, but I wasn’t about to let him underestimate me.

“What’s the bet?” I asked, stepping onto the field.

“Nothing major,” he said, his grin turning mischievous. “Just bragging rights.”

“Fine,” I said, holding out my hands. “Let’s do this.”

He tossed the ball to me, and I caught it in one smooth motion, the weight familiar in my hands. I didn’t miss the flicker of surprise in his eyes. My brothers had spent years dragging me into backyard games during holidays, and while I’d never admit it to them, I’d picked up more than I let on.

“All right, let’s see what you’ve got, Barnes,” Will said, backing up a few paces.

I planted my feet, gripping the football tightly as I sized him up. He had the height, strength, and ridiculous athleticism, but I had strategy—and a little flair for theatrics. Pretending to fumble with the ball, I let him take a few confident steps closer, and then—without warning—I launched it as hard as I could.

The football cut through the air in a near-perfect spiral, landing neatly in the end zone. Will’s eyebrows shot up, and he let out a low whistle.

“Not bad,” he said, jogging over to retrieve the ball.

“Not bad?” I shot back, arching an eyebrow. “That was textbook.”

He laughed, a rich sound that filled the empty field. “Okay, I’ll admit it—you’ve got an arm. But let’s see how you handle some defense.”

For the next ten minutes, we darted across the field, adrenaline buzzing as the sun dipped lower on the horizon. Will juked left and right, trying to fake me out, but I stayed on him like glue, my years of wrestling with my brothers giving me an edge. When he finally made a break for the end zone, I lunged forward, wrapping my arms around his waist and dragging him to the ground.

We landed in a heap, the world momentarily silent except for the sound of our breathing and the faint rustling of leaves. Grass clung to my jeans, and my heart pounded—not just from the exertion but from the thrill of keeping up with Greenhill’s golden boy.

“Okay,” Will said finally, his voice tinged with laughter. “Maybe you do play football.”

I propped myself up on my elbows, brushing grass off my jeans. “Told you.”

He sat up, his grin softer now. “Did your dad teach you that move?”

I shook my head, a faint smile tugging at my lips. “Nope. That one’s all thanks to my brothers. They’re the reason I know how to throw a decent spiral—or tackle someone twice my size.”

“Well, remind me to thank them,” he said lightly, though his gaze lingered longer this time, more thoughtful. There was something about the way he looked at me—like he saw past the labels of new girl and coach’s daughter—that made my chest tighten.

“You’re not what I expected,” he said after a pause.

I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, tilting his head. “I guess I thought you’d be all serious, like your dad. Football 24/7.”

I snorted. “Yeah, no. My dad’s great, but I’m not planning on following in his footsteps.”

“So, what are you planning?” he asked.

The question hung in the air, heavier than I expected. No one had asked me that in a long time. Everyone just assumed I’d figure it out eventually, but the truth was, I had no idea.

“I guess I’m still working on that,” I said finally, my voice quieter. “Greenhill’s kind of a blank slate for me, you know?”

He nodded, his expression softening. “Blank slates are good. Means you can write whatever story you want.”

His words struck a chord I hadn’t expected, and I wondered what kind of story he wanted for himself, trapped as he seemed in Greenhill’s shrine to football.

“Anyway,” he said, breaking the silence, “I should probably let you get home before your dad sends out a search party.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want that,” I said, standing and brushing grass off my jeans.

He offered me a hand, his palm warm and rough against mine as he pulled me to my feet. My heart stuttered inexplicably.

“See you around, Barnes,” he said, spinning the football in his hands.

“See you around, Carter,” I replied, turning toward the edge of the field.

As I walked away, I glanced back. He was still standing there, watching me with that crooked grin. For the first time since moving to Greenhill, I felt the smallest flicker of hope. Maybe this place wasn’t so bad after all.

And if Will Carter had a role to play in this blank slate of mine… well, I wasn’t ruling it out.