My Secret Deal 20

Jake’s POV

Game day used to be sacred. There was a rhythm to it — the thud of cleats against concrete, the locker room vibrating with loud music, the tightness in your chest right before the announcer called your name. It always meant something before. It used to make me feel alive.

Tonight, none of it touched me.

All I could think about was her. About where she was. If she was okay. About the way her voice had trembled when she told me she was going to confront her mom, and how the line had gone dead after. No reply since. Not one word.

I sat on the edge of the bench, my helmet forgotten at my feet. Around me, the locker room buzzed like it always did — guys hyped up, tossing gear, shouting jokes across the aisle — but it felt miles away from me. I kept flicking my eyes down to my phone, checking again and again even though I already knew there was nothing there.

Mike noticed first. Of course he did. He jogged over, a crooked grin already on his face.

“Yo, Jake,” he called, plopping down beside me with a thud. “You alive over there or what? You’ve barely said ten words all week.”

I forced a nod, trying to look casual. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Mike snorted. “Liar. You’ve been moody as hell. Withdrawn. Like, ‘he’s-writing-poetry-in-his-truck’ weird.”

I gave him a half-hearted shove with my shoulder, earning a grin, but it didn’t wipe the concern from his face.

“Seriously, man. Post-game party at Spencer’s. I can guarantee very friendly girls and probably at least two kegs of crap beer. Perfect rebound setup.”

I shook my head. “I’m good.”

Mike squinted at me. “You’re too good. Who is she?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. He saw it on my face anyway.

“Bullshit,” he muttered. “You’re gone, dude.”

Before I could come up with a weak comeback, Coach’s whistle pierced the room, sharp and commanding.

“Let’s go!” he barked. “Warm-up game or not, this is the start of our playoff run. Play clean, play smart, play hard.”

The locker room erupted into motion — helmets snapping on, shoulder pads thudding together, war whoops bouncing off the concrete walls. One by one, the guys funneled toward the tunnel, leaving me sitting there, feeling heavier by the second.

Coach’s gaze swept the room and landed on me. “Roberts! You coming?”

“In a minute,” I said.

He gave me a look but didn’t argue. Just nodded and disappeared down the hall with the others.

I was left in the sudden quiet, the pounding in my chest louder than anything else. My hand found my phone one more time, almost without thinking. I pulled it out, heart in my throat.

Still nothing.

My thumb hovered over the keyboard before I finally typed: Are you okay?

I hit send and stared at the message until the screen dimmed. No reply. No movement. Just a gnawing pit growing deeper in my stomach.

Slamming my locker shut harder than necessary, I grabbed my helmet and started walking. The hallway outside was cooler, calmer, the roar of the crowd muffled by thick concrete. My cleats echoed against the floor with every step.

I hadn’t gotten far when I heard it — a short, sharp whistle, cutting through the hallway noise like a tether pulling me back.

I turned instinctively.

And there she was.

Leaning against a pillar, half in the shadows. Hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands. Her hair was a little messy, her shoes scuffed. But it was her eyes that hit me hardest — wide, shining, locked right on me like I was the only thing left anchoring her to the world.

My whole body stilled. Everything else fell away.

I dropped my helmet without thinking and crossed the space between us fast, faster than I probably should have. I didn’t say a word. I didn’t ask questions. I kissed her.

The second my mouth touched hers, everything inside me snapped into place. Her hands fisted into the front of my shirt, pulling me closer with a desperate urgency that mirrored everything I’d felt all day. I kissed her again, deeper, pushing all the fear, all the need, all the relief into her until my chest ached with it.

When we finally pulled apart, I pressed my forehead to hers, my breathing harsh and uneven.

“You didn’t answer me,” I muttered.

“My phone died,” she whispered. “Right after I hung up.”

The knot in my chest loosened just a little. I closed my eyes briefly, just to feel her closer. “I was losing my mind.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

I pulled back just enough to see her face. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, her lips kiss-swollen, her hands trembling slightly against my chest. She looked so small and so strong all at once that it broke something in me.

“You okay?” I asked, voice low.

“I’m not going home tonight,” she said, and her voice cracked on the last word. “I screamed at my mom. Told her everything. She looked at me like she didn’t even know me.”

I wanted to punch a wall. Instead, I cupped her face gently, my thumb brushing over her cheekbone.

“I’m proud of you,” I said.

She bit her lip, blinking hard. “I don’t know where to go.”

“You’re coming with me.”

Her eyes flicked up to mine, searching, as if she was trying to figure out if I meant it.

“Meet me at my car after the game,” I told her, my voice leaving no room for argument. “We’ll figure it out. You’re not alone.”

“Jake—” she started, but I shook my head, silencing her.

“I’ve got you,” I said, because there was no other truth.

Coach’s voice boomed down the tunnel, calling for me again. I kissed her quickly, fiercely, letting her feel all the promises I didn’t have the words for yet.

“Tomorrow,” I said against her lips, “no school. Just you and me. Amusement park.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

She laughed, that soft, breathless sound that made my chest ache in the best way.

“Ride or die, remember?” I reminded her.

She smiled, and it lit up her whole face. “Then I’m riding.”

“Good. Because I’m already dying,” I muttered, making her laugh again.

I pulled away, grabbing my helmet, forcing myself to jog toward the field even though every part of me wanted to stay wrapped around her.

But as the crowd roared and my cleats hit the turf, I felt it — solid and sure inside my chest.

She was real.

And she was mine.

Even if the rest of the world didn’t know it yet.