FEBRUARY 2024

WALKER'S POV
It was cold as hell for a late February afternoon in Pennsylvania. The kind of cold that cut through even two layers of Under Armour and made your cleats bite harder into the frozen turf. But honestly, I didn't mind the sting. I needed to run. To burn off this weird energy that had been buzzing under my skin since Sunday.

Lacrosse was good for that. Noise, pace, physicality. And today I needed all of it.

I shoved open the locker room door, helmet tucked under my arm, my duffel sliding off my shoulder. Inside, the usual chaos was unfolding—Noah beatboxing while Ben tried to freestyle and miserably failed, the stench of protein bars and cheap deodorant wafting in the air like something cursed.

"Scobell!" Noah called out, grinning. "Our MVP returns."

Ben threw up a stick tap against my shoulder. "Hey, man. You ghosted the group chat."

"Yeah, sorry," I muttered. "Busy weekend."

But the weekend before was crazy.

It had started with a plan to spend the whole weekend with Jane at my house—her dad had actually approved it, which was still wild. But then Lucy had texted the group chat screaming WE BEAT WINCHESTER, and suddenly everyone was asking if they could come over to celebrate. I was gonna say no, but Jane—being her sweet, golden-retriever-hearted self—was like, "We can just say we're all Percy Jackson people. I don't want to ruin your night."

She made it work. They bought the lie. Barely. Gia almost fainted.

The next day, The Genies invited her to sing with them when Viv lost her voice. Jane tried to say no. I could see her anxiety flaring—her hands were shaking, her voice barely above a whisper—but then Gia handed her the mic anyway and she stepped into the lights.

She freaking crushed it.

I've never seen anything like it. Even Lucy teared up. Jack Antonoff was there, and after the set he walked up to Jane like a ghost just tapped him on the shoulder and said, "Whenever you're ready... call me." And he left his literal credit card in her hand.

No one knew she was my girlfriend. And that was kind of the point. But I watched Kyle that whole night. The way he looked at her.

And then Sunday... I saw he messaged her.

Just "Hi, Jane. Idk if u remember
but we met at Walker's party
and at the concert. I'm Kyle." but still. Suspicious.

She never answered him.

I wasn't the jealous type.

But I also wasn't stupid.

"Yo, Scobell," a voice cut through my thoughts.

I turned to see Kyle adjusting his chest guard near the mirror, offering me a lazy nod.

I gave him one back—cool, casual, just enough to say I see you, without actually saying anything.

Noah came over and leaned in with that smirk he always wore when something messy was brewing. "You and Jane looked real friendly at that festival."

I laughed lightly, trying not to sound weird. "What, we're friends. From set."

Ben nudged me. "Sure. Except she sat in your lap when we were all trying to watch that one band and pretended it was because there were no seats left."

"Okay, but there weren't," I said, tossing my gloves into my locker.

Kyle spoke up for the first time. "She's cool. Didn't think she'd be that chill."

"Yeah," I replied, turning just enough to meet his eyes. "She is."

There was something loaded in the silence after that. The kind of silence that hangs between guys who've both clocked the same girl but aren't saying it out loud yet.

"Anyway," Ben said, snapping his helmet on, "if she ever sings again, I'm bringing my grandma. That voice? She'd cry for sure."

"She did sound like a Disney princess," Noah added.

"She is a Disney princess," I muttered before I could stop myself.

They all laughed, including Kyle, though I noticed he didn't look at me.

Practice started rough—Coach was pushing us hard after last week's win, drilling plays over and over. But I kept my head in the game, eyes sharp, stick ready. Every time Kyle passed me the ball, I caught it without flinching. I didn't want tension to ruin the rhythm of our team.

But still.

My gut said something was off.

And even though I wasn't gonna say anything to Jane—not yet—I had my eye on him.

Not because I didn't trust her.

But because Kyle wasn't dumb. He saw what everyone else did.

And now he wanted in.

Practice was brutal in the best way. Full sprints. Scrimmages. Stick checks so hard I thought I'd lose a rib. But I didn't complain. I couldn't complain — I needed the distraction.

We'd just finished a punishing round of suicides when Coach yelled for water break. Most of the guys jogged toward the benches, guzzling out of shared coolers and swearing about their legs. I ripped off my gloves and helmet, letting the icy air hit my face.

That's when Kyle jogged up beside me, like he'd been waiting for the right moment.

"Yo, man," he said, breathless but casual. "That girl from the festival—Jane—she's really something, huh?"

My stomach clenched, but I didn't let it show. I kept my voice even. "Yeah. She's cool."

Kyle tilted his head, squinting at me. "She's from Boston?"

"Yeah, lives out there with her family."

"What's she like off camera? I mean, she was chill, but she also kinda disappeared during the party."

"She's lowkey," I said, grabbing a water bottle and taking a long sip to avoid having to say more.

Kyle dribbled the ball between his feet and casually kept going, "She's, like... what? Fifteen? Almost sixteen?"

"Fourteen," I said, sharper than I meant to. "She's three months younger than me."

"Oh..." He nodded. "She seems older. You know what I mean? Like... I dunno, she carries herself like she's been through stuff."

I didn't like that.

I didn't like him noticing that.

"Guess so."

But Kyle didn't stop.

"She looked nervous before she went onstage, right? Like, actually nervous. Thought she might bail."

I wiped my mouth and gave a slight nod. "Big crowds aren't really her thing."

"Huh," he said, pausing like he was actually thinking about that. "That's kinda cute."

My jaw tensed, but I turned away like I hadn't heard it. I stared out at the field, trying to focus on Coach barking orders and not the way Kyle was just... sniffing around. Too curious. Too calculated.

"Just wondering," Kyle went on, "is she seeing anyone?"

I turned my head slowly, eyebrows raised. "Why?"

He shrugged, pretending it was casual. "She's cool. Thought maybe I'd message her or something."

I gave him a practiced, neutral smile. "She's got a lot going on. Like, a lot. Music, filming, school. Probably not really checking DMs."

Kyle nodded, but I saw the flicker in his expression—like he knew I was deflecting.

And maybe he did.

But I didn't care. My fists clenched inside my gloves as I slid them back on.

I wasn't the guy who got jealous.

But I was the guy who paid attention.

And Kyle? He was playing it smooth. Like this was just talk. Just curious. But I'd seen the way he looked at her at the festival. And I'd noticed how fast he followed her back on Instagram. And now this?

Nope.

Not today.

Coach called us back in, and I was grateful for the drills. Kyle jogged ahead with Ben and Noah, but I stayed a few steps behind, breathing deep.

Focus, Walker. Don't let him get in your head.

Jane trusted me. She was mine. We didn't need to tell the world for it to be real.

Still, as I dropped back into formation and waited for the whistle, I knew one thing:

If Kyle thought Jane Riordan was just another girl to flirt with, he was about to learn real fast...

She wasn't.

After practice, I got home sore and starving. I downed two protein bars, showered until the water turned ice-cold, and collapsed into bed like a deflated sack of laundry. My phone was charging on my desk when it buzzed once... then twice... then lit up with a FaceTime ring.

Jane.

I scrambled to grab it.

I clicked "accept," and there she was — hair damp from her own shower, wrapped in a cozy gray hoodie, legs tucked up in bed. She looked sleepy and soft, the kind of effortlessly pretty that made my chest feel weird and full.

"Hey, dumbster." she said with a smile that crinkled her eyes.

"Hey, jeans." My voice came out tired, but real. "You look cute."

She giggled, scrunching her nose. "You always say that when I look like a marshmallow."

"You always do look like a marshmallow," I said. "A really pretty one that I want to keep forever."

Her cheeks pinked, and she looked down like she always did when I was too direct. I liked that about her. She didn't even realize half the time how much she glowed.

"So," she said, holding up her phone screen, "I'm having a crisis."

"Oh no," I said dramatically. "Is it academic? Existential? Avocado-related?"

She narrowed her eyes, turning the phone to show her Pinterest board. It was titled 'Nail Ideas That Are Gonna Stress Me Out'.

"Oh," I nodded seriously. "We're in the war zone."

"Exactly!" she said. "Look — chrome pink or minimal black French tips? I want to do something fun for when you come this weekend but I also don't want to look like I'm trying too hard, but I also do want to look like I care. You know?"

"100%," I said, nodding like a therapist. "So what I'm hearing is... chaos."

She groaned and flopped back on her pillows. "Yes. Literal chaos."

I laughed, shifting on my bed so I could prop the phone on my knee. "Okay. Let me help."

We scrolled through her top five choices. I actually got weirdly into it. I didn't know the difference between "aura nails" and "glazed donut finish," but she explained like I was cramming for an exam.

"So," she said, turning the camera back to her face. "Be honest. Which one do you actually like best?"

I studied her for a second. "The minimal French tip. It's clean, sharp, and it looks like something a cool indie singer would wear while casually getting discovered by Jack Antonoff."

She grinned. "Good answer."

"And also," I added, smirking, "because I wanna see you holding my hand with those on."

Her eyes flicked up, soft and warm. "You're sappy tonight."

"You bring it out of me."

She looked quiet for a second — not sad, just thoughtful. "I miss you."

"You saw me yesterday."

"I know," she said with a sigh.

"I miss you too," I said, not even trying to joke. "Only a few more days."

She smiled again, quieter this time. "Yeah."

I didn't mention Kyle. I probably should've — the way he brought her up, the DM, all of it. But tonight... she looked happy. Calm. Like she finally wasn't spiraling about her music, or set stuff, or being good enough.

And I didn't want to take that away.

Not yet.

I'd deal with Kyle later.

Tonight, I just wanted to be here, on FaceTime, listening to Jane overanalyze nail shapes like it was the most important decision in the world.

Because honestly?

In my world—it kind of was.

JANE'S POV
It was Thursday morning, second period, and my school day so far had been... meh. We'd just finished a surprise pop quiz in Spanish that I definitely under-prepared for (blame Pinterest nail spirals and FaceTiming with a certain blue-eyed boy), and now I was sitting in Personal Finance — aka the class everyone took to get easy credit.

The teacher was showing a slideshow about credit cards and compound interest, but honestly, it felt like background noise. I wasn't even pretending to take notes at this point. I had my AirPods in (music low, just for comfort), my phone hidden under my binder, and one knee pulled up in my chair like always when I got fidgety.

I pulled up my messages and clicked on "My Dumb Bumbler 🔱".

Me:
are u alive or did lacrosse claim u forever
👀💀

My dumb bumbler 💬 (less than a minute later):
barely alive
coach made us do wall-ball like we offended him personally
what's up?

Me:
i'm in finance class learning how to not die broke
but mostly i'm just thinking about how you're gonna fail this test 😌

My dumb bumbler 💬:
rude.
i'll have u know i got a 74 on my quiz yesterday which is technically a win

Me:
barely
anyway
i need ur help with something v serious
life or death tbh

My dumb bumbler 💬:
oh no. is this about your nails again?

I giggled quietly, ducking my head so the teacher wouldn't notice me smiling at my binder.

Me:
worse
i'm doing a tiktok trend
u don't know which one
and i'm not gonna tell u
just answer honestly

I opened my photo gallery and uploaded two princess pictures — one of Rapunzel and one of Belle — both looking sparkly and iconic. I sent them with zero context.

Me:
choose.
no overthinking.

My dumb bumbler 💬:
rapunzel. 100%

I blinked. Then grinned so hard I had to fake-cough to hide it.

Me:
WHY???

My dumb bumbler 💬:
she's an anxious creative person who hides behind her hair
but also will stab someone with a frying pan
she's literally u.

My fingers froze for a second. He didn't even know the trend and he nailed it.

I bit the inside of my cheek, heart doing a little dumb flutter. I typed:

Me:
ok fine u win.
that was the whole test
and u passed w flying colors

My dumb bumbler 💬:
so what did i win?

Me:
my undying affection
and probably a tiktok with your face in it this weekend 😌

My dumb bumbler 💬:
does my face get a filter?

Me:
no. your dumb bumbler face will be raw and real.

My dumb bumbler 💬:
great. can't wait to go viral for blinking weird or something

I smiled so hard it hurt. The bell rang suddenly, jolting me out of my warm little bubble. As I packed my things, a thought hit me:

This was the best part of everything — the weird little in-between moments. The 5-minute check-ins, the shared jokes, the way he got me without needing a map.

I texted one last thing before heading into the hallway.

Me:
also ur Rapunzel too
ur hair is unreasonably pretty and u have
✨ golden retriever ✨ vibes

My dumb bumbler 💬:
you take that back.

Me:
never 🤗

The last period of the day was dragging. I kept glancing at the clock like it might magically skip ahead if I stared hard enough. It didn't. Ms. Landon was walking us through some group project instructions for Monday, but I already had my notebook out with an empty page doodled with daisies and tiny cartoon cats.

And that's when my phone buzzed in my pocket.

Not once.

But five times.

DropBox notification.

My stomach flipped — the photoshoot.

I instantly unlocked my phone and opened the folder: "Jane R. – Feb Bloom Set."

And there I was.

Wearing that dreamy, soft pink floral outfit I'd loved so much — the long skirt, the off-shoulder top with little blooming prints, the fingerless sleeve-mittens that hugged my arms like they belonged there. My dark curls were down and wild, framing my face. And the makeup? Soft blush, subtle shimmer, and the glossy lip I swore I couldn't pull off — but I so did.

...more 50

I actually gasped.

Not in a fake "omg me?" kind of way — but in a legit "wait... that's me?" kind of way.

I spun my desk slightly toward Emma, nudging her arm. "You have to look at these. Now."

She leaned over, already chewing gum like she was waiting for this kind of gossip drop. Then I showed her the first photo.

Emma's jaw dropped so fast I was worried it would dislocate. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW?!"

She flicked through five of them, aggressively zooming on the third one.

"Jane. This is not okay. Like, you have no business being this pretty. You look like a Pinterest board had a baby with a fashion angel."

I laughed, flushing. "Stop."

"No you stop," she whispered sharply. "Post these. Post them right now. The people need to see. This is not a want. This is a public service."

I blushed harder, then opened my chat with Walker.

Me:
just got my photoshoot pics...
sending you my top 3
pls don't pass out 🤍🌸

I dropped the photos into the chat and slid my phone away, trying to act chill.

Then I waited.

Class ended. I packed up. Emma hugged me goodbye. I popped in my earbuds and started walking home with music low in the background, heart fluttering with that soft rush of anticipation.

It didn't take long.

Walker 💬:
WHAT
THE
HECK

JANE.
I just lost consciousness.
You're not real.
This is AI. I've been catfished by a flower goddess.
Send help. I'm down bad.

I just stopped in the middle of the hallway and almost got bulldozed by Kyle
WORTH IT

you look like spring. no
you look like the entire season
like if blooming flowers could take human form
or if sunlight had curls and perfect lips and—

ok i'm spiraling. you BROKE my brain.

I stopped walking and stood there under a streetlamp, one foot halfway off the curb, blushing so hard I felt it in my knees.

Me:
you are so dramatic 😭

Walker 💬:
i'm being honest
post one. now. or i will actually riot

Me:
but I can't pick 😭😭
which one do u like best?

He typed. Then paused. Then typed again.

Walker 💬:
The 3rd one.
Your hair's wild, and your eyes look straight-up magical
Also that sleeve thing?? You're out here inventing fashion.

I grinned — because the third one? The third one was my favorite too. The one where I was looking straight into the camera like I was in a painting.

I opened Instagram, selected the picture, picked a soft rose-tinted filter — barely there — and typed my caption.

🌸 tried to make the sun jealous 💫

I hit post, took a deep breath... and smiled.

Then my phone buzzed again.

Walker 💬:
I hope you know I'm making that my phone wallpaper
can't believe i get to hang out w a fairy princess this weekend

Me:
just wait til you meet my cat
he's the real boss

Walker 💬:
can't wait
also can't believe you didn't warn me you were going to be illegal levels of pretty today
rude.

I laughed to myself as I stepped to the left of the street and headed toward my house, my earbuds in, the chilly February breeze tugging gently at my hair. My cheeks were warm, my phone was buzzing with story reactions, and my heart felt full.

The day hadn't started perfect — but it was ending just right.

I HAVE SO MUCH PLANNED OMG😭