In the last two weeks, we’d been so busy we’d barely had time to sleep, let alone come up with a game plan for the little deal we made. Fall camp was brutal, a blur of daily practices that bled into weight training and meetings and watching film. Giana was caught up in her own busy season, fielding reporters and managing the media circus every day, which left only late at night before we both passed out for us to discuss what would come next.

I convinced her that Depth Chart Day would be the perfect day for our couple debut, and she agreed — but that was about it.

Other than her holding true on leaving me alone media-wise, and me holding true on getting myself together enough for the interview I knew I had waiting for me at the end of today, we hadn’t discussed much. We’d planted seeds, sure — lingering in the locker room after practice, walking together on campus, but today…

Today, everyone would know, and the game would begin.

Giana’s hand trembled a bit in mine as we pushed through the doors, the hallway that led to the locker room empty and quiet. I could hear the soft sounds of voices and the distinct clattering of pads and cleats down the hall, and I knew before we got there that everyone would be in their head today.

By the end of practice, we’d know who made the team, who was starting, who was backup, and who was gone.

Chart Day was huge. There would be coverage for it all day on every sports channel, everyone in the nation who gave a shit about college football watching and assessing. Even when I was in high school, my teammates and I would make bets and watch to see if we were right when it came to who started for our favorite teams.

We’d also dream about it being us one day with that number one spot.

Giana and I had made it all of fifteen steps when Leo Hernandez spilled out of the athletic cafeteria, a half-eaten muffin crumbling as he took a massive bite of it and hustled toward the locker room. But he stumbled, doing a double take when he saw me with Giana. He nearly crashed into the wall as he gaped over his shoulder, his eyes widening at where our hands were laced together before they glanced up at me.

But he just grinned, took another bite of his muffin, and jogged the rest of the way down without a word.

“Breathe,” I told Giana, squeezing her hand as we approached the doorway.