Jessa

The second the final whistle blows, the stadium erupts.

It’s not just noise—it’s vibration. The bleachers shake. The band crashes into the fight song like they’ve been holding it in their lungs all night. People scream, jump, spill onto the track, and suddenly there are bodies everywhere, rushing the field like the grass itself is magnetic.

We won.

I barely have time to process it before Mariah grabs my wrist. “Come on!”

I don’t even question it. We’re ...