The sound of laughter and the steady hum of chatter filled the hallway as students streamed out of their classrooms, excited for the weekend. But my mind was elsewhere. Becca's elbow nudged me for the third time in five minutes, her face practically glowing with excitement.

"We did it!" she whispered, her voice full of energy, barely containing herself as we walked toward our lockers.

I couldn't help but smile, my heart swelling at the reminder. Both of us accepted into Harrington—it still didn't feel real. I looked over at Becca, who was practically bouncing beside me, her joy contagious.

"Can you believe it?" she asked, her eyes wide, her leg still bouncing like she couldn't stand still.

I shook my head, my fingers fumbling with my locker combination. "Honestly, no. I keep waiting for someone to tell me it's a mistake."

Becca laughed, a light, bubbling sound that matched her excitement. "Well, it's not. We're going, Isla. We're actually going to Harrington together!"

Her words sank in, and for a moment, everything else faded. The noise of the hallway, the buzz of voices around us, even the faint squeak of shoes on the linoleum—all of it dulled in comparison to the warmth spreading through my chest. We were really doing this.

"We're going to crush it there," I said, trying to match her energy, though part of me still felt like I was walking in a dream. I could feel my heart racing, my pulse quickening with every thought of what the future held.

Becca leaned against the locker beside mine, crossing her arms with a satisfied smirk. "Obviously. I mean, who's going to stop us?"

The smile tugged at my lips again as I grabbed my books. Becca's confidence was infectious, but there was that familiar weight settling in my chest again. The one that came when I thought about next week's game, about Jake and what he was planning.

Becca caught the shift in my expression, her eyebrows knitting together slightly. "What's wrong?"

I shrugged, trying to shake the feeling off. "Nothing. Just... thinking about next week's game."

Her nose scrunched in that way it always did when she was about to say something blunt. "Ugh, don't remind me. You know I can't stand Jake."

I sighed, closing my locker a little harder than necessary. The dull clang echoed in the hallway, but it wasn't enough to drown out her words. "I know. But he's not that bad, Bec. He's just... confident."

Becca raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she tilted her head. "Confident is one thing. Jake acts like he's God's gift to soccer."

I didn't argue. Jake's ego was one of the first things I'd noticed about him—impossible to ignore. But I also saw the side of him that Becca didn't. The side that was sweet when it was just the two of us, when he wasn't trying to impress everyone else. It was just hard to explain that to her.

"He's been really patient with me, though," I said quietly, hoping to shift the conversation. "He knows I'm not ready for everything, and he's okay with it."

Becca's expression softened slightly, but the hard edge didn't disappear entirely. "That's great, Isla. Really. But I just don't trust him. You're... too good for him."

The words hit me like a punch I wasn't expecting. Becca had always been protective of me, but hearing her say that out loud made my stomach twist uncomfortably.

I sighed, pulling my bag over my shoulder. "He's not as bad as you think. He can be sweet when he wants to."

"He's literally an attention seeker," Becca muttered, falling into step beside me as we started walking again. "Like does he have anything on you or something."

I didn't have an answer for that, at least not one that would convince her.

Anyways, Jake loved attention. Whether it was on the field or off, he thrived on it. And while I found it exhausting at times, I couldn't deny that there was a part of me that liked being with someone who drew so much attention. It was thrilling, in a way.

She smiled softly, the tension in her shoulders easing a bit. "Exactly. I just want you to be with someone who matches your energy, not someone who drains it."

I stayed quiet, closing my locker with a dull thud. The truth was, I hadn't really thought about it that way. Jake was exciting, yes, but Becca wasn't wrong. Sometimes, I felt like I was bending over backward to keep up with him.

"So, what's the plan for after the game next week?" Becca asked as we walked toward the cafeteria. "You going?"

"Yeah, last game before we go to university." I say, "Plus, Jake's got something planned afterwards I think."

Becca rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of concern behind the humor. "Of course, he does. Probably something over the top."

I smiled faintly, but the knot in my stomach tightened. She wasn't wrong. Jake was always planning something big, always trying to top himself. And while I loved that he wanted to impress me, sometimes it felt like too much. Like there was this invisible pressure between us, something unspoken yet heavy, and it kept growing with every surprise he planned.

We reached the cafeteria and grabbed our trays. Becca piled hers high with pizza and fries, while I opted for something lighter. My appetite hadn't caught up to me yet—it was too tangled up with all the things swimming in my head. Jake, the game, the looming tension.

We found a table by the windows, away from the noisier crowd, and just as I was about to take a bite of my salad, a familiar arm swooped in and swiped my fork straight out of my hand.

"Hey!" I turned around, already knowing who it was by the cocky grin before me. Theo stood there, holding my fork like a prize. His easy confidence was practically radiating from him, the playful glint in his eyes making my stomach flip.

"What, Luna? You weren't eating it anyway," he teased, dropping into the seat beside me as if it belonged to him. He didn't even hesitate before stealing a bite of my salad, acting like it was his right to do so.

That nickname—Luna. It always made my heart stutter. Theo had been calling me that since we were kids. He said it was because I reminded him of the moon—quiet but constant. Something about the way he said it always felt grounding, like he saw me in ways no one else did.

Becca snorted from across the table, shaking her head. "You're shameless, Theo."

He winked at her, completely unfazed. "What can I say? Gotta keep life interesting."

I rolled my eyes, reaching for my fork with a sigh. "You have your own food."

"Yeah, but yours always tastes better," Theo replied with a grin, leaning back in his chair as if he had all the time in the world. His soccer bag was slung over the back, ready for practice, but he didn't seem in any rush to get there.

I nudged his arm playfully. "Unbelievable."

Theo just smirked and stole a fry from Becca's tray this time. "Impossible," Becca muttered, though there was a soft fondness in her tone. It was hard to stay mad at Theo.

"And yet, here I am. Your favorite distraction," he said, popping the fry into his mouth, his eyes glinting with mischief.

I tried to hide the smile tugging at my lips, but it was no use. Theo had that effect on me—he could walk into any situation and make everything feel lighter, simpler. Like nothing in the world was too big to handle as long as he was around.

He stayed for a few more minutes, joking around and stealing more food, before finally standing up. "Alright, I've gotta head to practice," he announced, stuffing a few more of my fries into his mouth.

As he slung his bag over his shoulder, his gaze fell on me again, softening for just a second. "You've got ketchup on your lip, Luna."

Before I could even react, he reached over, swiping his thumb gently across the corner of my mouth, his touch light and familiar. My breath caught for a moment, the simple gesture sending a ripple of warmth through me.

"There. Perfect," he said, his voice teasing but his eyes warm.

I blinked, caught off guard, and before I could say anything, he gave me that easy grin again and ruffled my hair. "See you later, Luna."

I watched him walk away, feeling a little lighter. There was something about Theo that always made things feel... easier. He could slip in and out of my life like he belonged in every moment, no matter how small. And I couldn't help but feel like everything made a little more sense when he was around.

Becca cleared her throat, pulling me back into reality. She had a knowing smirk on her face as she dug back into her food. "So, you and Jake... gonna, you know?"

I blinked, confused for a second before her meaning clicked. "What?"

Becca grinned wider, leaning in. "You know—fuck? Do the horizontal tango? The honking?"

Heat rushed to my cheeks as I glanced around the cafeteria, praying no one had heard her. "Becca!" I hissed, my face burning.

She laughed, leaning back in her chair, totally unfazed. "What? I'm just saying. He's been waiting, hasn't he?"

I shook my head, feeling the warmth creep up my neck. "He knows I'm not ready. He said he'll wait."

Becca's expression softened a little, her teasing tone dropping. "Good. Don't let him make you feel like you have to rush into anything."

I nodded, grateful for her support. The truth was, Jake hadn't pressured me—not directly, anyway. But sometimes, I could feel the tension, the unspoken expectation lingering between us. And with the game next week and whatever surprise he had planned, it felt like everything was building up to something. Something I wasn't sure I was ready for.