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On jittery legs, I make my way out of the locker room, the noise dimming behind the closed door. The stadium is nearly empty now, just a few stragglers on their phones and the cleanup crew beginning their work. The air has cooled, and the sky has deepened to a velvet blue, the first stars peeking through.
I gravitate toward the stands, to the very spot I found her in. I can almost still see her there, standing and cheering, a fixed point in a shifting world. I rub the back of my neck, bearing the weight of everything unsaid between us, all the years and changes.
“Thinking hard or hardly thinking?”
The voice startles me, and I spin around to find Lila herself, leaning against the railing, a knowing smile playing on her lips. She’s swapped her game-day attire for something casual—a soft sweater and jeans that remind me of our high school days.
“Bit of both,” I admit, stepping closer. “You stuck around.”
She shrugs, her smile widening. “Wanted to beat the traffic. Plus,” she adds, her eyes flickering away before meeting mine again, “I figured you’d be out soon.”
The undercurrent of her words tugs at something deep inside me.
She waited. Forme.
“So,” she says, her voice a gentle tease, “is this where you take me out for that celebratory dinner?”
I chuckle. “Only if you’re ready for the finest dining this old town of ours has to offer.”
“Lead the way, Galloway,” she says, and there’s warmth there, a shared history that no amount of time or distance could erase.
CHAPTERTWO
LILA
THEN
“Lila, how many fries do you think I can fit in my mouth at once?”
“Yeah, I’m not answering that.”
My best friend picks up a handful, sizing them up. “At least, like, twenty, right?”
“If you try that shit, I’m walking out of this diner without you.”
Callum feigns hurt, placing a dramatic hand over his heart. “Such a buzzkill.”
“Such a show-off.”
NOW
The neon sign of Joe’s Diner flickers like a beacon in the night, promising greasy comfort food and a tiny slice of nostalgia. I follow Callum inside, the bell above the door announcing our arrival.
The smell of fried onions and coffee grounds hit me, and for a moment, I’m fourteen again, without the weight of term papers and thesis projects on my shoulders.
“Looks the same, doesn’t it?” Callum says, his voice low as he scans the diner, a small smile playing on his lips.
“Yeah, like it’s frozen in time,” I say, taking in the red vinyl booths and the faded movie posters on the walls. I remember us, young and carefree, discussing our future dreams over milkshakes and shared fries.
Somehow, through fate or friendship, we both ended up staying near home, ensnared in this old college town.
“Pick your poison.” Callum grins, gesturing to the vinyl menu as we slide into a booth that’s seen better days. We’re not here for gourmet—Joe’s is about the memories, those innocent confessions and tentative first steps away from adolescence.
I order a cheeseburger and a vanilla shake, the same as I used to, and Callum echoes me. Our knees brush under the table, a spark of warmth, a faded ember of our chemistry. It’s comfortable, familiar, and for a second, it’s easy to forget the distance college has put between us.
“So, how’s the architecture life treating you?” Callum asks, his elbows resting on the table, eyes fixed on me with genuine interest.
“It’s ... a lot,” I admit, tracing the rim of my water glass. “But it’s what I’ve always wanted, I guess.”
