Page 36 of It's Only Ever Been You

“Ethan,” I say, my voice soft but insistent. “It’s incredible. You’ve been working for this… since forever. You’re… you’re gonna do amazing things.” My heart hammers in my chest as I say it, the weight of it pressing down on me.

His lips tug into a faint smile, something almost vulnerable. “Thanks, Em.” He pauses, glancing around like he’s debating something before finally looking back at me. “You know… we’ve got a game this Friday. I can leave a ticket for you at the booth if you want to come. I mean, no pressure, but…”

He pauses for a moment, “Coach says a few scouts have been sniffing around, even though it’s early for juniors like me. They’re talking about fast-tracking some of us if we keep performing well.”

I blink, taken off guard by the offer. We’ve both been so busy, so wrapped up in our separate worlds, that the thought of watching him play—seeing him in his element—feels oddly intimate, almost nostalgic. Like going back to a simpler time, before everything got so… tangled.

“Yeah,” I say, nodding, unable to hide the smile tugging at my lips. “I’d love to come. Really.”

“Cool.” His smile mirrors mine, and for a split second, we’re back in high school, sneaking glances at each other from across the stands. But then his expression shifts, his gaze growing distant, and the moment slips through my fingers before I can grasp it.

The reality of it sinks in—this might be one of the last games I’ll see him play here, on this field, before everything changes. Before he leaves, chasing a life I’m not sure has room for me in it.

“Just, uh, tell them your name at the booth,” he adds, clearing his throat like he’s brushing off some of the weight between us. “They’ll have a ticket waiting for you.”

I nod, trying to ignore the strange ache in my chest. “I’ll be there. Promise.”

There’s a moment of silence, and it’s heavy, filled with everything we’re not saying. I want to ask him—about his plans, about what he wants, about us—but the words get stuck in my throat, too heavy to say out loud right now.

Instead, I offer a smile, trying to make it feel easy, natural. “Guess I better bring my lucky charm then. Don’t want you choking with scouts watching,” I tease, forcing a lightness I don’t feel.

He chuckles, the sound low and warm. “Yeah, I wouldn't want that.” But there’s a hint of something else in his eyes, a vulnerability that tugs at my heart.

As we part ways, a strange sense of finality settles over me. I tell myself I’m being dramatic, that it’s just a game, just a ticket. But deep down, I know it’s more than that. It’s a glimpse of the future—the one where he’s moving forward, and I’m left here, watching from the sidelines.

And I wonder if I’ll ever be able to catch up.

……………………………………………………………

It’s game night and I sit in the bleachers, surrounded by the buzz of the crowd. The field looks enormous under the floodlights, every blade of grass illuminated as if this were more than just a college game. Maybe it is—there’s a hum of something bigger in the air. I can’t stop scanning the sidelines, looking for him, even though I know exactly where he’ll be.

And then I spot him. Ethan.

He’s locked in, focused, his movements fluid as he warms up. The jersey clings to him, his name and number bold on the back, and I can’t help but feel a pang of pride that I shouldn’t let myself feel. Because this version of Ethan isn’t just my best friend—he’s someone bigger, someone destined for something far beyond me.

The game kicks off, and I cheer when I’m supposed to, clap when everyone else does, but I feel like an outsider. The crowd erupts as Ethan makes a big play, and I catch a glimpse of him glancing into the stands. For a second, I think he might be looking forme, but then he’s swept up in the momentum of the game, his teammates pounding his back and shouting in celebration.

When the final whistle blows, the energy in the stadium is electric. I make my way toward the edge of the field, weaving through fans and parents, my heart thudding in my chest. But as I near the players’ tunnel, I see him—surrounded by coaches, teammates, and men in suits who can only be scouts.

He’s laughing, his smile wide and easy, but there’s something about him that feels… out of reach. Like he’s already stepping into a world I don’t belong to. I hang back, clutching the railing, and watch as he shakes hands, nodding at whatever they’re saying.

I think about waving, about calling his name, but the words stick in my throat. He’s so caught up in their conversation that I might as well not even be here. And maybe that’s for the best.

……………………………………………………………

A few days after the game, I get a text from him inviting me to get coffee. I can’t help but think this is a good sign. He’s making an effort. The bell above the coffee shop door jingles as I walk in, and I spot him immediately. Ethan’s sitting in a corner booth, his long legs stretched out under the table, his hands wrapped around a mug. He looks tired but happy, like he’s been carrying a secret too big to hold.

“Hey,” he says, his face lighting up when he sees me.

“Hey,” I reply, sliding into the seat across from him. My stomach twists, and I can’t shake the feeling that whatever he’s about to say is going to change everything.

He doesn’t waste any time. “So, I’ve got news,” he starts, leaning forward. “I got an offer from an NFL team.”

My heart sinks, even as I force a smile. “That’s amazing, Ethan. Who’s it from?”

“The Portland Sentinels,” he says, his excitement spilling over. “They want me. Like, really want me. I signed the deal yesterday.”

Portland. That’s across the country.

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