• • •

Phase one of the season was actually the hardest.

The strength staff believed suffering built character.

Noah personally believed suffering built irritation.

He bent forward afterward, hands on his knees while sweat dripped off his jaw onto the turf.

"Again!" one of the coaches yelled.

A collective groan answered him.

Noah pushed upright slowly.

His legs already felt heavy, lungs burning in that deep way that only happened during conditioning season.

Football shape and playing shape were different.

This part existed to remind everybody of that.

Another running back, Noah didn't know his name, jogged past him barely breathing hard.

He used it as motivation.

Even as his body protested, Noah refused to let anyone outperform him. He had enough to prove, anyway.

Number twenty crossed the line first on the next rep.

Noah noticed.

Of course he did.

Everybody else probably saw a twenty-two year old trying to impress coaches.

Noah saw a challenge.

The whistle blew again, and Noah took off before his body fully agreed to it.

His cleats dug into the turf hard enough to ache.

Halfway through, his hamstring threatened to cramp.

He ignored it.

By the end of the sprint, Noah barely beat him, jogging straight through the line while the coaches yelled split times behind them.

Noah lifted a hand without responding, breathing through his nose while he walked it off.

Twenty caught up beside him a second later.

Fast kid. Cocky too.

"Damn," he laughed between breaths, "you wasn't letting me have that one?"

Noah grabbed the bottom of his shirt to wipe sweat from his face. "You can have it when I'm dead."

He blinked before laughing harder.

A couple of older players nearby shook their heads knowingly.

"Y'all got two minutes!" a coach shouted. "Water and back on the line!"

Noah headed toward the coolers near the sideline, grabbing two cups without slowing down.

Twenty appeared beside him again.

Persistent.

"You always this intense?"

Noah dumped one cup over his head first before drinking the second.

"Yes."

"Damn."

Noah finally looked at him fully now.

He remembered him. This was only his second season, played garbage minutes last year.

Noah still considered him a threat to his position— you could never count anybody out.

Every year, somebody younger showed up faster. Cheaper too.

The second you got comfortable, they replaced you.

Football was loyal to nobody.

"Williams, right?"

His brows lifted, "Yeah."

Noah nodded, "Stop hopping on your start."

"What you mean?"

"You're wasting motion." Noah took another cup from the table. "You pop up first two steps. Stay low longer."

He stared at Noah.

Noah stared back, "What?"

"I thought you was about to tell me to slow down."

"Nah... It gives me a headache watching that ugly ass run."

An older receiver in earshot laughed, "Listen to the man. I been tryna' figure out what was wrong this whole time."

A whistle cut through the moment.

Noah tossed his cup into the trash and turned back toward the line, legs still heavy, lungs still trying to negotiate with him. His body wanted the two minutes promised. The coach gave them one and a half.

The strength coach walked in front of them with the stopwatch hanging from his neck like a threat. "Last set."

Noah lowered into his stance, fingertips hovering near the turf.

The field went quiet in that specific way it did right before movement. Not silent, never silent, but focused. Cleats shifting. Breath catching. Someone spitting to the side. The faint hum of machinery somewhere inside the facility.

His legs burned.

His chest burned.

His pride, unfortunately, was fully awake.

The whistle blew.

Noah exploded forward.

For the first few yards, all he felt was pain. Then his stride opened. The ache in his hamstring pulled tight again, warning him, but he kept his form clean. Low. Arms sharp. Feet under him.

Williams stayed in his peripheral.

Better start this time.

Noah almost smiled.

They crossed close enough for the coaches to yell both their names.

Noah slowed through the line, hands dropping to his hips as he walked in a circle. His pulse beat in his ears. Sweat ran down his face, into his beard, under his collar.

The coach blew the whistle again, but this time he waved them toward the sideline. "Bring it in!"

"You don't win in September if you bullshit in April," the coach said, pacing in the middle. "Everybody wanna get to Sundays, everybody wanna touch the ball— nobody wanna do this part right here."

That was true. This part had no adrenaline, no crowd. Just tired legs, early mornings, and somebody younger trying to take his spot.

Coach kept talking. Noah was already thinking ahead.

Recovery.

Film.

Phase one was built to drain you before lunch and then ask if you still loved the job.

Noah reached for a towel on his way to the locker room, glancing at the man beside him, "What's up?"

"What else you got for me?"

"No more free game."

• • •

Noah wasn't afraid of a lot of things.

But cold tubs were something he had nightmares about.

He sat on the edge, taking a deep breath as he slid down, hissing, "Fuck."

Noah leaned his head back against the edge, jaw tight while his body adjusted to the shock.

Across from him, a linebacker sat with both knees wrapped in compression sleeves while arguing with a trainer about rep counts.

Another player slept flat on one of the treatment tables with recovery boots attached to his legs.

The room smelled faintly like icy hot, sweat, and sanitizer.

As he checked his phone, the same message he'd gotten every morning for the last two weeks awaited him.

Nothing special. Simple.

Laken: good morning. have a good day 🤍

It still made him smile every morning.

The little heart sat at the end of her message like it belonged there.

Casual.

Dangerous.

Because Noah had started expecting it. Routine settling in where it shouldn't.

The room around him blurred back into focus as somebody on the far side of recovery yelled in pain.

A trainer laughed.

Noah rested his head back again, cold water sitting just below his chest.

His body hurt.

Meetings still waited upstairs.

Film after that.

More treatment later.

But for a second, staring down at that tiny little heart on his screen—

None of it felt quite as irritating anymore.

• • •

The stadium was louder than it needed to be.

Laken had stopped reacting to everything after halftime. She was proud, yes, but when your college football team was favored by as many points as theirs was, it became natural.

When your boyfriend scored damn near every time he touched the football, it became routine.

"I put 10 bands on bro to have 200 yards and score 5 times." Trey stated excitedly, "I knew he wouldn't let me down."

"That's illegal." Kelsey pointed out.

"It's smart. The fuck we friends for if you can't look out for me?"

Trey loved to gamble. He considered it a pastime— one that was very lucrative for him. He only joined them at the school because of a scholarship. Anything outside of room and board, he couldn't afford.

Until he discovered he could simply tell Noah what he had bet, and Noah would deliver.

Beyond that, though, he could read stats, analytics, he knew what and who to bet on.

Trey had made a small fortune.

"I have to agree." Laken yawned, the tailgating they'd done before catching up to her, "That's why I need one of my friends to go get me a RedBull."

"What kind?" A sophomore from her class heard her.

"Turn your ass around, nigga." Trey stood up immediately, "I got her."

Kelsey snickered, "Top flight security of the world. You good?"

"Yes." Laken assured her, "I just need to wake up."

"It's your birthday, bitch. I need you awake for the next 48 hours."

Words sat on Laken's tongue, and she didn't necessarily understand the feeling— why she wanted to point out that despite it being her birthday, they were expected to sit in the stands cheering for Noah.

Whatever. She loved him, would celebrate him any day.

Even on her birthday.

• • •

By the time they made it out of the stadium, the energy had settled into something looser.

High off victory.

Laken walked slowly, the adrenaline she never really caught fully wearing off, leaving behind the kind of tired that settled in her shoulders.

Her phone buzzed again. Another birthday text she responded to, another 'thank you. i love you too'.

And still, the night just felt so flat.

The funny thing was she didn't even know what she would rather be doing.

"Come on." Trey grabbed her hand, guiding her towards a car, "We still gotta celebrate your shit."

"Twenty fucking twoooooo!" Kelsey's voice wobbled, "Let me turn you up!"

A plastic water bottle that didn't contain water was pressed to her lips, and Laken couldn't help but smile as she drank from it.

That helped.

Their Uber driver smiled faintly as he listened in on their conversation. The laughs, banter.

Laken watched the city lights pass by, losing recognition of where they were the longer he drove. Trey had said they were going to a bar they frequented— this wasn't the route.

"Is his ass kidnapping us?" She whispered.

"Just vibe, Lake."

She did, and when the car stopped in front of a restaurant, she already knew who was inside.

The lights were low, not dark enough to hide anything, just dim enough to soften it. A warm glow spilled from inside, catching along the glass and stretching across the pavement in quiet reflections.

The walkway leading up to the entrance was lined with flowers, neat and intentional. Soft colors layered into each other, petals catching the light in a way that made everything feel slowed down. Like you were supposed to notice it.

It was gorgeous.

Not loud about it. Just sure of itself.

Noah personified.

Kelsey pushed her shoulder lightly, "Get out."

Laken stepped out slower than she needed to, the door closing behind her with a soft click that barely registered over the quiet hum of the street.

The air itself seemed calmer here, the noise from the street fading the closer you got to the door. Even the way the light hit her skin felt different.

Noah waited patiently, his uniform replaced with casual clothes that matched her outfit from the game, as if he knew she'd hate to see him out-dress her.

All of it. Everything. It spoke to who she was, what she liked.

"I love this." Laken's eyes continued to roam before landing back on him, "I love you."

Noah's smile was lazy, "Before I knew what it meant."

The walk inside showed more effort— pictures lined the walls. Soft candids from people, events, who meant something to her.

Tailored, intentional.

The table sat toward the back, tucked just enough to feel separate from everything else. Candles flickered low, reflecting softly against the glassware. Plates already set. Food already there.

Her chair was pulled out, she sat, waiting on him to join her, "Literally the most thoughtful shit ever."

"It's light." Noah's shrug was nonchalant.

"People dream about stuff like this."

"I dream about you."

Laken's blush was involuntary, "Stop."

"I know the game threw it off, but I want you to feel like it's still your day, feel me?" Noah leaned in, "Every day is about you, but especially today."

She'd never complained aloud, understood what came with dating him— even back in high school.

But to have her feelings acknowledged with no judgement...

Not the dinner. Not the effort. Not even the way everything had been set up.

It was the acknowledgment.

Laken looked at him for a second, her expression softer now. Something in her had eased without her permission.

"I wasn't tripping," she said quietly.

"I know."

She was. He knew she was.

The conversation didn't need to be held any longer than that.

Dinner flowed the way it always did with them. Small comments, quiet jokes, moments where neither of them said anything and it still felt full.

• • •

Laken's night appeared to be over, and she was fine with that.

She settled into the passenger seat. As her hand gripped his, she didn't watch the roads this time, just studied his side profile.

Noah brought her hand to his lips, "After party. We ain't gotta stay long."

That made her glance towards the house to her right, "It's fine. I know you have to be here."

The house was quiet, nobody on the stairs— in the front yard like they usually were, and that should have been Laken's clue.

She was absorbed in Noah.

Until he pushed open the door, "Surprise!"

The sound hit her all at once, loud and warm.

Familiar voices, music kicking in somewhere in the background, bodies moving in a space that had clearly been waiting on her.

People moved toward her immediately—hugs, voices, hands reaching, pulling her further inside.

Her people.

Friends.

Teammates.

Faces she knew immediately, others she had to take a second to place.

Not just thrown together but chosen. Thought about.

"One time for the birthday bitch!" Someone yelled over the music.

Laken shook her head slightly, still smiling, still overwhelmed, but clearer now than she had been all night.

The flat feeling from earlier. Gone.

Noah had positioned himself across the room, letting everybody shower her in birthday wishes. Her eyes still found his, because even when people made it about Noah, he made it about her.

Every time.

Laken's phone buzzed again, the reminder that Wes had texted her.

Wes: My mom is throwing Grace a surprise party on the 15th. We're invited.

Laken stared at the message until her phone screen dimmed.

"Ms. Green?"

She locked it quickly, looking up to find Malik in front of her, "Hm?"

"My group done."

The class moved with actual effort for once, groups arguing quietly over answers instead of completely unrelated conversations.

Laken took the paper, setting it next to her for grading, "Thanks."

"Do you know what today is?"

"No." She thought for a second, "What is it?"

He smiled, pointing at the date on the board, "It's been two weeks."

Two weeks.

The realization hit harder than it should have.

Laken looked around the classroom slowly, like the answer might be sitting somewhere between the posters on the wall and the half-finished math problems spread across desks.

They'd actually done it.

No missing assignments.

No major behavior issues.

No arguments that ended with somebody almost crying.

That alone deserved a reward.

A couple groups were already whispering excitedly, catching onto her expression before she even said anything.

"We got it, didn't we?" Samira asked immediately.

"Wait." Laken held a hand up, fighting a smile she could already feel coming, "Let me double check first."

Groans filled the room.

Malik leaned against her desk dramatically, "You know we did."

"I don't know anything." Laken clicked around in the gradebook anyway, dragging it out intentionally.

A couple kids started standing out of pure anticipation.

"Sit down before y'all lose by being irritating."

That only earned laughs.

Laken scanned the assignment tracker one more time before finally leaning back in her chair.

"...Okay."

The room erupted instantly.

Kids yelling over each other.

Desk slapping.

Laken laughed despite herself, shaking her head as multiple students rushed her desk at once.

"I want a turtle."

"No, turtles stink."

"We should get a snake."

"A hamster!"

"They die too fast."

"A fish boring as hell."

Laken pointed toward the last comment, "Watch your mouth."

"Sorry. A fish is boring as heck."

"Much better."

Samira pushed closer to the desk, more serious than the others. "Can we vote? Like actually?"

"Yeah." Laken nodded, grabbing a marker, "But we're not getting anything that can kill me, bite me, or escape."

"We might as well get a Chia pet." Malik muttered.

That made her laugh, "What you know about Chia pets?"

Laken turned toward the board, writing CLASS PET OPTIONS across the top in big letters while the room continued spiraling behind her.

"Okay." Laken capped the marker, "Let's be serious. What can we keep alive?"

They all shouted over each other, trying to make their opinions be heard until Laken held up her hand, "We have two minutes until the bell rings—either pick, or I'll do it for you."

"Y'all please." Bri begged, "She'll come back with something lame."

"I'm the coolest teacher in this school."

They all nodded, but Laken couldn't tell if they meant it, or just wanted a pet.

Time was winding down, they convened, talking lower now, until Ava stepped forward, "We want a bearded dragon."

"Final answer?"

Her students hesitated, looking at each other, "Yes."

"I'm scared of those." Laken folded her arms, "Pick something else."

"That's not what you said!"

The bell rang before they could finish, and Laken shrugged, "Should've been quicker. Let's name the goldfish, Nemo."

She laughed as backpacks started swinging over shoulders, glares aimed towards her. Nobody moved fast enough, spilling into the hallway in pieces.

A few of them tried pleading their case on the way out, their voices fading until it was quiet again in the room.

Laken reached for her phone again,

i'll be there.

what time are you off? i need to go to the pet store.

Wes: I have a call at 6, but I can take it in the car. Are we getting a dog?

no lol. my class wants a pet.

some fat ass lizard. idek what they eat.

Wes: We can ask.

• • •

Laken regretted telling her kids yes almost immediately.

"You know we can still get a fish." Wes grabbed a shopping cart near the entrance to the pet store. "Low maintenance. Cheap. Hard to kill."

"That's exactly why they don't want one."

"Which is funny considering they're middle schoolers."

Laken ignored that.

Rows of tanks lined the walls, lights glowing against the glass while animals climbed over rocks or slept under heating lamps.

A little boy pressed both hands against one of the tanks nearby. His mother pulled him back immediately.

"Don't tap the glass."

"He looked at me first."

Wes snorted quietly beside her.

Laken stopped in front of a tank labeled BEARDED DRAGON and immediately took a step back when one moved.

"Nope."

Wes looked at her. "It's not too late to find a fish."

One of them sat on a rock under the heat lamp completely still, looking judgmental somehow.

Laken folded her arms. "I don't trust him."

"You don't trust a reptile?"

"Do you know how many kids I've taught? I know when somebody isn't trustworthy."

Wes shook his head with a faint smile before crouching slightly to read the care sheet attached beneath the tank.

"Temperature regulation. UV lighting. Live insects."

"Oh absolutely not."

"You're the one that agreed to this."

Laken leaned closer to the glass despite herself.

The thing blinked slowly.

Ugly.

But... kind of cute ugly.

She tilted her head, studying it further.

"There it is." Wes smiled faintly, "I'll go tell them we want this one."

"Wait— I haven't decided!"

"You have."

She had.

• • •