Chapter 81 : Early Morning Light
STEPHEN’S POV:
I barely slept and it was not because I couldn’t but because I didn’t want to admit why I couldn’t.
The ceiling above my bed had become way too familiar by the time my alarm finally went off. My arm was thrown over my eyes, blocking out the early morning light, but it didn’t stop my thoughts from looping towards the motherfucker next door….Hayden. Of course, it was him. It’s always him.
I exhale slowly, dragging my hand down my face before forcing myself up. My body feels heavy, like I didn’t rest at all, but I push through it anyway. I don’t have the luxury of being off today.
Today matters a lot to me.
It was the tournament selections.
Coach had made that very clear all week that today decides everything. Who starts, who gets benched, who even travels and I’m not about to let anything or anyone mess that up.
Especially not Hayden.
The thought tightens something in my chest, but I shove it down as I pull on my training gear. By the time I step out into the main area, the place is empty.
It was better. I didn’t want to deal with him this early anyway.
The field was already buzzing by the time I got there.
The sharp smell of grass, the sound of cleats hitting the ground, the low chatter of teammates, it all settles into something familiar. Something easier than everything else.
Out here, I know exactly who I am.
“Stephen!” I glance over as Glen jogs up beside me, already grinning. “Big day, man.”
“Yeah,” I reply, rolling my shoulders. “You ready?”
“Been ready,” he says, nudging my arm. “You? Our star striker can’t choke now.”
I huff out a quiet laugh. “I don’t choke.”
But even as I say it, my eyes flick across the field and land on him.
He is already there, talking to Coach, his posture straight, confident, like he owns the place.
Which… yeah. He kind of does.
He is the team captain and everyone listens when he talks and watches him including me.
My jaw tightens slightly before I look away, forcing my focus back where it should be.
Practice starts hard and fast.
There were no warm-up games, no easing into it. Coach goes straight into drills, barking orders, pushing us harder than usual.
It was deliberate and he is watching and evaluating. Every pass, every sprint, every shot—it all matters.
I throw myself into it.
Running drills, positioning, and striking. I don’t hold back. I can feel the rhythm of it, the sharp focus settling in as everything else fades.
This is what I’m good at and this is what I know.
“Again!” Coach shouts.
A ball comes flying toward me.
I don’t hesitate with the control, I pivot to the side and I strike.
The net ripples. “Good!” Coach calls.
I barely register it, already resetting, already moving.
But then the coach yelled. “Hayden, tighter on defense!”
My focus flickers for half a second. Just enough to notice him.
He adjusts immediately, stepping in, cutting off the next play with precision, like always and our eyes almost meet but he looks away first.
And something about that feels wrong.
On the sidelines, the cheerleaders are running through their routine. Music plays faintly from a speaker, their movements sharp and synchronized. Normally, it’s background noise to me.
Today… It’s just another distraction.
Because no matter how much I try to focus, I’m aware of him.
Where he is, what he is doing, the way we are both pretending the other doesn’t exist.
It’s stupid.
By the time practice finally winds down, my shirt is sticking to my back, my lungs burning in that satisfying way that usually clears my head.
We gather around as Coach steps forward, clipboard in hand.
“This is your final week before the tournament,” he starts, voice firm. “I’ve been watching all of you closely.”
No one speaks or moves.
“You’ll get your final positions tomorrow with who are the starters and who are on the bench.”
A few guys shift nervously.
“Tonight,” he continues, “there’s a pre-tournament party. Team bonding. Don’t do anything stupid but show up.”
A few laughs ripple through the group.
Coach’s gaze sharpens. “I mean it. Be there.” Then he dismisses us.
The tension breaks instantly.
Guys start talking, laughing, and already planning the night. I grab my water bottle, taking a long drink, trying to ignore the way my mind is still… unsettled.
“Stephen!” I turn slightly as Glen jogs over again. “The party tonight. You are coming, right?”
“Yeah,” I say after a second. “I’ll be there.”
“Good. It’s gonna be insane.”
I nod absently, but my attention drifts and lands on Hayden again. He is a few feet away now, talking to some of the guys and then…She shows up.
Lilian.
She walks straight up to him as she belongs there, because she does and without hesitation, she leans in and kisses him.
My grip tightens slightly around the bottle.
Hayden doesn’t pull away. He just… goes with it.
Because she’s his girlfriend. A voice echoed in my head.
Right. Of course she is.
Something twists low in my chest, sharp and uncomfortable.
I look away before I can think too much about it, before I can read into it more than I should.
It doesn’t matter.
“Yo, you good?” Glen asks, nudging me again.
“Yeah,” I say quickly. “Just tired.”
He raises a brow but lets it go. “Get some rest, man. Big night.”
“Yeah,” I repeat.
Big night. Right.
But as I walk off the field, as the noise fades behind me and the weight in my chest refuses to go away….I can’t stop thinking about him.
Then I heard it as clear as day.
“Come with me tonight,” Hayden says, low, almost casual. “To the party.”
There’s a pause, then Lilian laughs softly.
“Obviously.”
Something in my chest tightens, sharp and sudden, like I wasn’t ready for that, like I should have been.
I kept walking.
But it feels like I just lost something I never even had.