MasukJessaBenny’s always smelled like fries and melted cheese and victory.The neon beer signs glowed against the windows, fogged up from too many people crowding in at once. Half the football team was already there when Mariah and I walked in, snow still melting off our boots, the place buzzing with post-game adrenaline.It felt different tonight, though.Not just because they won.Because it was the last one.Ever.Shane was halfway standing on a booth yelling about his interception like it needed its own press conference. Someone had dragged two tables together. Parents were in one corner pretending not to eavesdrop. A few underclassmen hovered like they were watching seniors step into some mythical ending.Mariah slid into the booth across from me and stole one of my fries without asking.“You look like you’re thinking too hard,” she said.“I am,” I admitted.“About?”I hesitated.“Christmas.”Mariah blinked. “You just watched your boyfriend win his last high school game and your brai
NoahThe locker room felt louder than it should have.Guys were shouting. Pads were hitting the floor. Someone was already blasting music from a phone speaker like this wasn’t the end of something.I sat on the bench, staring at my cleats.Last game.Last time pulling them off in this room.Jackson was two lockers down, shoving his gear into his bag like it was any other Friday.Except it wasn’t.I leaned back against the cold metal behind me.“You know what I’ve been thinking about?” I said.Jackson didn’t look up. “How badly you almost missed that block in the second quarter?”“Shut up.”He smirked faintly.“I’ve been thinking about what you said before the game.”That got his attention.He paused mid-zip.“Yeah?” he said casually. “Which part?”“Small fish,” I said.His hand stilled for a second.Then he finished zipping his bag and shrugged like it didn’t matter.“Oh. That.”“Yeah. That.”Jackson leaned back against the locker, towel still around his shoulders.“It’s true,” he sai
JessaNoah reached me.He stopped so close I could see the tiny scrape on his cheek where someone’s helmet must’ve caught him. His chest was still heaving, breath fogging in the cold. The lights above made his eyes look almost too bright, like the whole night had wired him into something electric.But mine weren’t bright.Mine were… steady.My heart was pounding, sure. My stomach was still somewhere in my boots. And I could still feel the ghost of that moment—Tori’s hands around his neck, her mouth on his, the way it had looked from a distance before my brain could catch up.But I wasn’t going to fold in half on a football field.Not anymore.Noah’s gaze flicked over my face like he was reading it, line by line. His mouth opened, and for a second he looked like he didn’t know what he was allowed to say.“Jess—” he started.Behind him, Tori hovered a few feet away, arms crossed now like she’d been wronged. The smugness wasn’t gone. It had just shifted into something sharper—watchful, w
JessaThe stadium lights made the snow in the air sparkle like someone was shaking glitter over the field.It wasn’t heavy snow—just dry, stingy flakes that drifted sideways in the wind—but the cold had teeth tonight. My toes were numb inside my boots, and every breath came out in a little cloud that disappeared as fast as it formed.Mariah was practically vibrating beside me in her oversized Ridgeville hoodie.“You realize,” she said, leaning close so I could hear her over the roar, “this is it. Last high school game ever. This is cinematic.”I swallowed.The last away game.The last time Jackson and Noah would ever play together in high school.Jackson had pretended it was nothing when we left the house. He’d shrugged, rolled his eyes when Mom said she was proud of him. But he’d been quiet in the car. Not nervous. Just… inward.And Noah.Noah had kissed my forehead before he jogged toward warm-ups and said, “Watch me, okay?”Like I wouldn’t.Like I ever didn’t.Now the clock was ble
NoahThe tunnel lights were blinding for half a second.Then the cold air hit my face.And the noise followed.Clearview’s stadium wasn’t huge, but tonight it felt massive. The crowd was already on its feet, bundled in winter coats, breath fogging in the sharp December air. The band was playing something loud and dramatic. Their student section was packed shoulder to shoulder, ready to scream at anything that moved in our direction.I stepped onto the field and just… stopped for a second.Not long enough for anyone to notice.Just long enough to feel it.This was the last time.Last time running out in pads as a high school player.Last time hearing that mix of adrenaline and chaos and anticipation that only Friday nights ever gave me.I flexed my fingers inside my gloves.They felt steady.My chest didn’t.I wasn’t scared.Not really.Just… aware.Aware that something was ending.Aware that in a few months, none of this would look the same.Jackson jogged past me, helmet tucked under
JacksonThe locker room felt different tonight.Not louder.Not quieter.Just heavier.We were in Clearview’s stadium — away game. Their lockers. Their field. Their crowd already building outside. You could hear the announcer echoing faintly through the concrete walls.This was it.Last game.Not last home game.Last high school game ever.I sat on the bench in front of my locker, staring at my jersey in my hands.Number twelve.I pulled it over my head slowly.Noah dropped down beside me, tightening the tape around his wrist.“Last one,” he said.“Yeah.”We didn’t look at each other.We didn’t have to.He let out a breath.“Feels weird.”“We’ve been doing this since we were kids,” I said.“Pop Warner,” he added.I smirked faintly.“You were terrible.”“You were worse.”For a second it felt normal.Like any other pregame.But then the weight came back.I stared down at my cleats.“I hope I’m actually good.”Noah paused.“What?”“In college.”He stared at me like I’d just said the sky







