By Monday morning, the hallways of Southbridge High were alive — not with excitement, but with speculation.

Phones buzzed in lockers. Eyes darted toward Brooke as she walked in through the front doors, head high, jaw set, a fresh layer of lip gloss hiding the storm underneath. It wasn't just the usual stares. These were sharper, more curious. Like she was the punchline to a joke she hadn't heard yet.

She adjusted her cheer jacket and kept walking.

Behind her, Tess caught up, linking arms.

"Okay, spill. What exactly happened Friday night? Because the entire junior class has theories, and Savannah is practically foaming at the mouth."

Brooke kept her voice low. "Nothing happened."
A pause.
"Everything happened."

Tess blinked. "Wow. Okay, poetry queen. Want to clarify that before someone accuses you of kidnapping the football captain or something?"

Brooke sighed. "We talked. It wasn't a scene, it was... quiet. Real. He saw me, Tess. Like me. Not the captain. Not the girl who always has her act together. Just Brooke."

Tess stared at her best friend, eyes softening. "And now?"

Brooke bit her lip. "Now I don't know if it was a moment... or the start of something bigger."

On the other side of school, Jake was already in the locker room, staring blankly at his half-open locker while Nate leaned against the wall, arms crossed, wearing his patented "You gonna tell me or do I have to guess?" expression.

"So?" Nate finally said.

Jake didn't answer.

"Come on, man. You ghosted the group chat, skipped out on the victory party, and now half the school thinks you proposed under the bleachers."

Jake shut his locker slowly. "I didn't propose."

Nate's grin widened. "So something did happen."

Jake ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know what it was. But it wasn't nothing. And that's the part I can't stop thinking about."

Nate was quiet for a second, then nodded. "Look, I've seen how you are with girls. It's all surface. But when you talk about her... it's like you're actually in it."

Jake glanced at him. "And if everyone loses their mind over it?"

Nate smirked. "Then let 'em. You've been a robot for three years. Might be good for people to see you bleed a little."

Between second and third period, it happened.

Jake and Brooke — both headed to chemistry — turned the corner at the same time, locking eyes for half a heartbeat too long.

Gasps.

Whispers.

A few sarcastic claps from the drama club.

Brooke tried to keep walking, but Jake... didn't.

He crossed the hall, right in front of everyone, and fell in step beside her.

"Morning," he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"You realize what you just did, right?" Brooke whispered, eyes flicking toward the stunned crowd around them.

"Yeah," Jake said. "I talked to you."

He held open the classroom door. She stepped inside, cheeks burning. Not from embarrassment — but from the rush of being chosen out loud.

But not everyone was impressed.

From the back of the hallway, Savannah watched, nails digging into her palm.

"Cute," she muttered, forcing a smile. "Let the games begin."

That night, Brooke sat at her desk, replaying everything. The looks. The whispers. The way Jake didn't hesitate to stand beside her.

A message lit up her screen:

    Jake:
"Still thinking about Friday night. Meet me there again?"

She stared at the text. Smiled.

Then grabbed his jacket off the chair.

Some stories don't start with a kiss.
Some start in the silence after the game.
Beneath the bleachers.