As we wait for the game to start, a familiar figure makes its way up the aisle of the bleachers. Mason Byrne’s blue-green gaze is steady on me for a breath, tousled dark hair falling over his forehead, and warmth blooms in my cheeks as he takes in the letterman jacket draped around my shoulders.

Two and a half hours later, Damien is down for the count.

He tumbled with a player from the other team during the third quarter, and it seemed the Pender Falls Lions couldn’t function as well without their beloved captain, resulting in a crushing loss.

The four of us make our way to the Sanchez house, Damien next to me in the backseat this time, face contorted in pain as he clutches his throbbing knee, his free hand clinging to mine. The whole thing feels a tad overdramatic, but I play along anyway, trying to be supportive, knowing it’s only a matter of time before I rip out his heart and stomp all over it. Zoe seems to think it’s serious, what with the way she held her breath, her fingers balling into fists as Damien collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain.

James pulls into the driveway, and between the two of us, we help Damien to his feet. He keeps an arm around each of our shoulders as we maneuver him to the front door. It’s a struggle to keep him upright, and my body feels weak beneath his weight. Zoe scurries ahead of us, punching in the code to unlock the door, and we awkwardly make our way through the entrance.

Damien’s parents are on their way home from some fancy work dinner his father had to attend a couple of hours out of town. They rushed to leave as soon as they heard what happened, but for now, we have the house to ourselves.

“Well, we got through the door,” James remarks, taking a deep breath, clearly exhausted. “Now for the stairs.”

I can’t suppress the groan that escapes my lips when I spot the stairway at the end of the hall.

“Oh, come on,” Damien laments, muttering under his breath, “I’m not that heavy.”

“Have you ever carried yourself?” James asks.

“Yes,” Damien responds haughtily. “I do it every day.”

“My hero,” I say, my voice flat as I move with them to the bottom of the stairs.

“I’ll go get some ice,” Zoe calls, before disappearing to another part of the house. She and James are able to navigate here easily; it reminds me that I’m the outsider.