I cough out a laugh. Suddenly I’m the priority, about five years too late. ‘The whole school won’t shut up about it. It’s spreading like wildfire. If your PR team can fix that, I’ll take it.’

I’m not sure if I hallucinate the tiny flash of disappointment in Colt’s eyes, but he gives me a curt nod. ‘They’ll be on it within the day. I’m sure of it.’

I walk the rest of the way to the locker room in silence, Colt striding off in the opposite direction with his cones. As I pull on my jersey and kilt, slap some kinesiology tape on my calves, and lace up my cleats, I ready my explanation to the team once the questions hit – ‘Someone took a video that got blown way out of context,’ I mentally repeat. I’m not ready to address it yet, and maybe that’s why I decide, in a move out of the normal, to haul my ass to the field a full half-hour before the team’s usual call time.

I grab my goggles and mouthguard and leave my hair in its loose ponytail for now; Brianna is the member of our team that does everyone’s matchday hairstyles. I shut the door to the lockers behind me and start the walk from the tunnels out to Chester Johnson Memorial Field.

I had prepared my speech to the team, but by the time I’ve reached the tunnel, I start to realize I won’t need it.

The bleachers, normally empty save for our bags during practices and small crowds during home games, are filling up fast. I’ve never seen the front rows as full as they are, and from the glimpse I get, plenty of phone cameras are out and at the ready, prepared to capture the source of all the lore that’s infected Okie campus.

‘Spreading like wildfire.’

Colt leans against the left wall of the tunnel, eyebrows raised, and brushes a stray lock of hair back with a dismissive hand. ‘That’s what you said, right? You weren’t kidding.’

I guess he also found time to change out of his usual shorts and sweatshirt. He wears the Riders coaching staff half-zip with a pair of well-ironed khaki pants. It’s a weird contrast to his usual frat-boy demeanour.

‘Guess I wasn’t.’ I tip my head towards the tunnel exit. ‘Better stay in here. They’re waiting for you outside. Might jump you if you’re not careful.’

‘Aww.’ The corner of his mouth tips up, etching a dimple in his cheek that stabs at a button in my chest I thought I’d long since destroyed. ‘You’d care if they jumped me.’

‘Yo!’ I’ve never been more grateful for Jordan when she barrels into the tunnel. I wish I was exaggerating, but the girl is quite literally bent over, out of breath, still in her street clothes.