My Secret Deal 24

The championship buzz felt electric. The halls of school were draped in rivalry banners, students wore face paint, and chants echoed across classrooms like war drums. But underneath all the noise, my mind was quiet.
Too quiet.
Because today, I was telling the truth.

I sent a text to Erin: “Meet me outside the library before homeroom.”

She came with Maisy and Willow, their arms crossed, faces curious but patient.
“I need to tell you something,” I said.

They watched me, giving me the space I needed.

So I told them everything. I told them about Jake, about the bridge, about how my world cracked open and how he was the one who caught the pieces. When I got to the part about the bridge — about how close I had been — none of them moved. There were no interruptions, no questions, just three sets of wide, watering eyes.

Erin pulled me into a hug first. “We had no idea,” she whispered.

Maisy’s voice broke as she said, “You almost died and we… we didn’t see it.”

Willow wrapped her arms around both of us. “We’re so sorry, Lily. We should’ve—”

“I’m okay now,” I whispered, squeezing them tighter. “I really am.”

“And Jake?” Erin asked softly.

I nodded, feeling a small, fragile smile form. “I think I’m falling for him.”

Maisy sniffled and said, “Then we’ve got your back.”

Willow’s expression sharpened with fierce determination. “Let’s get you to that game.”

My parents, of course, were no different. They were still strict, still distant, and still insisted on updates for every hour of my day.

But Erin had a plan.

“Lily wants to volunteer,” she told my mom sweetly, putting on her best innocent voice. “It’s for extra credit. There’s a local outreach project.”

My mom raised a skeptical brow. “Where?” she asked.

“The community center,” Maisy piped up quickly. “My mom’s driving. We’ll send pictures.”

I nodded along, doing my best to look earnest. “I really want to help. It matters to me.”

She stared at me for a long moment, as if trying to figure out whether I was being sincere or just desperate. Finally, she nodded once. “Be back by five.”

I breathed out, my chest loosening with relief.
Victory.

We pulled up to the stadium and parked a few blocks away, the air already vibrating with energy. The bleachers were packed, and students and parents from both schools filled the space like a riot waiting to explode.

Erin handed me my hoodie with a grin. “We’ll meet you inside. Go check on your boy.”

“Thanks, guys,” I said, my heart beating faster for reasons that had nothing to do with the game.

Willow winked as she added, “Win or lose, he’s already your prize.”

I laughed and slipped away, weaving past the practice fields and supply sheds, making my way toward the locker room tunnel. I wasn’t supposed to be there, but no one stopped me.

That was when I heard it — the coach’s voice, rough and cutting through the air.

“You’re not here, Jake.”

There was a pause before Jake answered, “I’m here.”

“No, you’re not. You’re acting like you’re dragging something behind you,” the coach said.

There was another pause. Then, the coach’s voice softened.

“Is today the day?”

I held my breath, straining to hear.

There was silence — tense and still — before Jake finally said, “Yeah.”

I couldn’t move, barely able to process what I was hearing.

The coach sighed heavily. “He wouldn’t want this, you know.”

Jake’s voice cracked when he answered, “I know.”

“You were just a kid,” the coach said gently, almost like he was trying to lift the weight off Jake’s shoulders. My chest tightened at the sound of it.

“You couldn’t have changed it,” the coach added after a long, weighted pause and a deep breath.

There was another stretch of silence before the coach asked, “Do you want to play tonight?”

Jake didn’t answer right away, and for a moment, I thought maybe he wouldn’t. But then I heard him say, “I don’t. But I need to.”

The coach nodded. “Then I’ll give you ten minutes. Lock in. Play for him.”

And then the coach walked away, his footsteps fading into the stadium noise.

I stayed hidden in the shadow of the tunnel, frozen in place. Jake stood by the locker door, his helmet hanging loosely in his hands, his eyes fixed on the ground.

Finally, I stepped out into the open.

He looked up, startled at first, but his expression softened the second he recognized me.

“Hey,” I whispered.

He didn’t say anything. He just crossed the distance between us and pulled me into him without hesitation.

I wrapped my arms around his waist and held on tight, feeling his heart hammer against mine.

“I didn’t know,” I said into his shirt, my voice muffled by the fabric.

“I didn’t want you to,” he replied quietly.

“That’s okay,” I said, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes.

He searched my face like he was afraid of what he might find there. “You’re not scared?”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” I answered.

He exhaled, slow and shaky, like my words were the only thing keeping him upright. “You always know what to say,” he murmured.

“No,” I said, brushing my hand against his jaw. “I just finally know how to mean it.”

He kissed me then. It wasn’t like the last kiss — not soft, not desperate. This one was real. Steady. Certain.

His hands cupped my cheeks as mine tangled in the collar of his hoodie, both of us clinging to each other like the world beyond didn’t matter.

When we finally pulled apart, I rested my forehead against his chest, feeling the solid beat of his heart under my skin.

“You’ve got this,” I whispered.

“Only because you’re here,” he said.

“I’ll be waiting after.”

“You better be,” he said, the tiniest ghost of a smile flickering at the corners of his mouth.

Then he jogged off toward the tunnel, disappearing into the bright stadium lights.

I stayed where I was, watching him go, feeling a strange, fierce kind of peace settle over me.

I realized something in that moment. I didn’t know everything about him. I probably never would.

But love isn’t about knowing all the answers.

It’s about choosing someone even when you don’t.