Page 69 of Fragile

Hearing Quinn’s voice earlier settled me. That nervous jitter of fear and anticipation, of not wanting to lethimdown disappeared when the sound of her sunshine came down the line. I didn’t even have to say much; she just got it.

But out here on the field, with cameras surrounding us, that fear seeps back in, the worry that I’m still not good enough for my dad. Is he watching right now?

I wipe the sweat from my brow, trying to focus on the game instead of the noise in my head.

“Ready to get back out there?” Seb’s voice pulls me back into the moment.

“Always,” I reply, even though I’m faking the certainty. The crowd’s energy pulses around us as we huddle up for the next offensive drive. Seb calls the play, a deep route for me, and I can see the confidence in his eyes. He believes in this, in us.

We break the huddle and line up. I glance over at Quinn once to hit that serotonin level. She gives me a small nod, and it’s like she’s transferring her strength to me. I dig my cleats into the turf, focusing on the count.

The ball snaps, and I explode off the line, sprinting downfield. My legs pump like pistons, my breath steady. I break past the cornerback, a quick stutter-step leaving him in the dust. The safety’s coming over, but I’ve got a step on him. Seb’s pass is perfect, spiraling through the air, and I stretch out my hands, feeling the satisfying thud of the ball hitting exactly where he intended it.

I tuck it in and sprint for the end zone. The crowd’s roar increases, and I cross the goal line, spiking the ball in triumph. 27-14. We’re pulling away. The team mobs me in the end zone, slapping my helmet, shouting praises, but my eyes search for Quinn. She’s on her feet, cheering with her squad, a wide smile lighting up her face. I want to run to her, to share this moment, but I know there’s more game to play.

Washington fights back, scoring another touchdown, and suddenly it’s 27-21. We’re in the final minute, and they’re driving downfield, desperate to steal the game from us. My muscles ache, my lungs burn, my mind feels tired, but I can’t let up now.

We hold them at midfield, forcing them into a fourth-and-long situation. The tension is palpable as their quarterback drops back to pass. He heaves a desperate throw downfield, and our cornerback leaps, batting it down. Turnover on downs. Our ball.The crowd erupts again, but there’s still time on the clock. We need one more score to seal this.

Seb and I exchange a look as we line up for what could be the final drive. His confidence is unwavering, and it gives me strength I need. He calls a simple play to run down the clock, but I know he’s looking for an opportunity to strike.

The ball snaps, and Seb hands it off to our running back, who plows forward for a few yards. The clock ticks down. We line up again, this time for a pass play. I break out wide, feeling the cornerback’s eyes on me, and then I’m off, sprinting down the sideline.

Seb drops back, scanning the field, and then he sees it. He launches the ball, and I’m there, arms outstretched. The ball is delivered into my palms, and I pull it in, racing toward the end zone. When the cornerback dives, I’m too quick. I cross the goal line just as the final whistle blows.

The stadium explodes in celebration. We’ve won. 33-21. The team engulfs me, and I find Seb in the chaos, hugging him tight. We did it. We actually did it. More importantly, I did it without anything but blood in my veins.

Through the crowd, I see Quinn pushing her way onto the field. She reaches me, throwing her arms around my neck, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

“You did it, I’m so proud of you,” she hums into my ear, eradicating all the noise around us. Right now, there’s nothing but her. I let myself sink into the feeling of having her wrapped around me because I need it, I need her, and I don’t want to let her go.

For the first time in my life, I feel my heart beating outside of my body.

Because she’s holding it in her hands.

“We did it!” Seb shouts next to us, and the cocoon we were in breaks open, letting all the noise back in. Quinn shifts from my embrace to her brother’s, just as Hudson claps my shoulder.

“You were on fire tonight. Actual flames, dude.”

I smile, absorbing his compliment. “You too, Huds. We fucking did it.”

“Party tonight, and I’m going all in.”

“Isn’t that what you always do?”

He snorts a laugh. “No other way to live.” And then he’s gone, swallowed by the crowd, scooping up cheerleaders and celebrating. I take a second to look around and revel in the victory, but something in my stomach sours when the fear of my dad’s impending commentary grips me, clouding me like a storm.No, don’t let him in.

A small, soft hand links into my arm, grounding me. “Stay in the locker room. Make an excuse to stick around, and text me when you’re alone,” Quinn purrs, and my body ignites with a single spark. With a wink, I watch her sway away with her squad, hips swinging, loose hair flowing behind her, and the knowledge that, for right now, she’s mine.

***

Trying to get rid of my team is a lot harder than I had planned. It’s like they knew something was going on. I just told them I had to talk to the physio about a twinge I had during the game. Seb eyed me like I was bullshitting him because, by that point, I was already in my suit, so why would I need to see the physio? But he eventually took my word for it and left. Hudson and some of the others, they weren’t as willing to leave me until they are one hundred percent assured I’ll meet them at the party later. Honestly, I’ve had easier times sneaking away from my dad growing up.

Finally, I’m alone, and I text Quinn.

Miles

Come get me, Queenie xo

---