Page 55 of Never Enough

No, Daphne, stay put.That’s not your place.I can almost feel the bruises forming on his skin, the wince that must be hiding behind his helmet.

Then, another tackle, and he doesn’t get up right away. Sharp panic flares in me. I’m half out of my seat, ready to vault over people if I have to. But the coach is already there, bending over him. Alex nods at whatever he says and then walks off the field.

Benched.

I sit back, biting my lip, staring at the sidelined figure of Alex. The coach checks him over, and it seems okay? Maybe? God, I hate this feeling of helplessness. Half-time can’t come soon enough.

My phone feels heavy in my hand as I tap out a message, something to bridge the gap between us.

Me:

Wanna hang after your game? *Heart emoji*

I grip the phone tightly, willing it to vibrate with his reply. I crave that connection, even if it's onlythrough a screen.

The game blurs as I wait. Every tackle, cheer, and whistle is just background noise. Just me and my worry for Alex, hanging heavily in the stands

Chapter twenty

Alex

The air is heavy with the pungent scent of turf and sweat as the deafening roar of the crowd drowns out my inner thoughts. Hunched on the sidelines, my muscles tense in anticipation of halftime. The cheerleaders take the field, their movements sharp and precise as they command the attention of the audience.

I can’t help but feel a pang of annoyance as one of my teammates, Tyler, our quarterback, nudges me, pointing towards my ex-girlfriend. “Bro, look at Celeste, man,” he exclaims with a wide grin. “She’s still got it bad for you.”

There goes my distraction.

I try to force a smile, but it feels like wearing a mask that doesn’t quite fit. My gaze shifts to Daphne, my current girlfriend, who sits in the stands with her hazel eyes fixed on me. Concern cuts through all the chaos.

“Man, you gotta get back on that,” another teammate chimes in, nodding towards Celeste. “You two were Whitmore royalty.”

“Nah,” I mutter under my breath, though my words are lost in the crowd. Thankfully, my teammate gets preoccupied by the game when we score a touchdown.

As the seconds tick towards halftime, a knot forms in my stomach.

Before long, I’m back in the game.

The roar of the crowd fades to a dull buzz as I scan the bleachers, searching for Daphne’s face among the sea of spectators. My heart clenches when I spot her perched high in the stands, her dark waves catching the stadium lights. She’s so far away, yet I feel the pull of her presence like a physical ache.

“Alex, get your head in the game!” Coach barks, snapping me back to reality.

I nod, forcing my attention to the huddle forming around me. As I move into position, Celeste’s perfume wafts over me from her spot on the sidelines. The scent is cloying and overwhelming, a noticeable contrast to Daphne’s subtle floral fragrance.

As we break formation, Tyler claps me on the shoulder. “Your girl’s looking extra hot tonight,” he says with a wink.

I force a tight smile, knowing he doesn’t mean Daphne. “Yeah, sure,” I mutter, unable to correct him.

The ball snaps to Tyler, and I drop back, searching to block the other team.

Unfortunately, in doing so, I inadvertently glance at Celeste, her blonde hair a beacon on the sidelines. She’s bouncing on her toes, waving her pom-poms with exaggerated enthusiasm.

Tyler completes the pass, which leads to a touchdown. As my teammates celebrate around me, I can’t shake the weight of expectations pressing down on me. Everyone assumes Celeste and I will get back together. It’s what they want, what they expect. The golden couple, reunited.

But is it what I want?

I steal another glance at Daphne. Her quiet grace is completely different from Celeste’s flashy presence. She’s too good for me, I think, a pang of regret shooting through my chest. Maybe it would be easier to give in, to be the person everyone wants me to be.

No. I shake my head, dispelling the traitorous thoughts. Daphne’s face swims into focus in my mind—her kind eyes, her gentle smile. The way she looks at me like I’m capable of anything. The sound of her laughter, as melodious as the harp she plays.

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