Noah

The field was chaos.

Everyone was celebrating the win, cheering and shouting as the crowd spilled from the bleachers. The lights glared overhead, bright against the dark night sky, and the smell of sweat, turf, and concession stand food hung heavy in the air.

But all I could see was Jessa.

She stood off to the side, her hair a little messy, cheeks flushed, Noah’s number painted proudly on her face. My number.

And for a second, the rest of the world disappeared.

I’d ...