Hayden
The crowd roared as Hayden jogged back to the sideline after a tackle that had stopped the opposing team two yards short of a first down. Sweat dripped down his temple, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. This was his element: the noise, the impact, the clarity of purpose that only existed between the white lines.
He grabbed his water bottle from the bench, squirting some over the back of his neck, when he caught the unmistakable red hair out of the corner of his eyes. He looked up at the student section.
And there she was.
Daisy.
Sitting three rows up, wearing a school sweatshirt that looked two sizes too big, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She had a notebook balanced on her lap, of course she did, but her eyes were on the field. On him.
Hayden froze, water bottle halfway to his mouth.
She came.
She actually showed up to his game. The pre-med student who probably had a hundred better ways to spend her Saturday afternoon had chosen to sit in the cold October bleachers and watch him play football. His chest tightened in a way that had nothing to do with the physical exertion of the last three quarters.
Their eyes met across the distance, and even from here, he could see her smile, that same genuine grin she'd given him when he'd solved the calculus problem. She raised her hand in a small wave.
Hayden's lips curved into something that might've been an actual smile. He lifted his chin in acknowledgment, his usual stoic mask cracking just enough for her to see.
"Matthews! You're up!" Coach's voice cut through his thoughts.
He turned back to the field, pulling his helmet on, but something had shifted. The familiar emptiness that usually filled the spaces between plays, the reminder that no one in those stands was there for him, just the jersey, had disappeared.
Because Daisy was watching.
And suddenly, he wanted to show her exactly what he could do when he was in his element, the same way she'd shown him he wasn't hopeless in hers.
--
Hayden pushed through the locker room doors, the familiar post-game exhaustion settling into his muscles. Most of his teammates had already scattered, some heading to parties, others meeting up with girlfriends or family who'd come to watch. He'd planned to do what he always did: walk back to his apartment alone, ice his shoulder, and try to sleep through the noise of his upstairs neighbors.
Then he saw her and froze.
Daisy leaned against the tunnel wall, still in that oversized school sweatshirt, phone in hand, but her attention was focused on the players filtering out. Waiting. For him?
Hayden's steps slowed as he approached, his heart doing something complicated in his chest. The stadium lights cast shadows across her face, but when she looked up and met his eyes, that warm smile appeared-the same genuine grin she'd given him when he'd solved the calculus problem. She raised her hand in a small wave.
"Hey," he said, stopping in front of her. His voice came out rougher than intended, surprise and something deeper threading through it. "You came."
"Hey. Yeah, I wanted to see you operate on the field, too," she said with a smile.
He shifted his gym bag on his shoulder, suddenly hyperaware of how he must look-hair still damp from the shower, a bruise already forming on his jaw from that second-quarter hit, exhausted in a way that went bone-deep. Nobody came to his games. Not anymore. Not since his dad had stopped pretending to care, not since he'd burned every bridge he'd ever had.
Vulnerability crept into his expression, and he rubbed the back of his neck. "That tackle in the third quarter-did you see it?"
"I did. You were quick. Like, really fast." She looked down at the ground, kicking the gravel softly at her feet before looking back up at him. "You hungry?"
Hayden's stomach tightened at her question, every defensive instinct flaring to life. This was getting personal. But this was Daisy, the girl who'd shown up to the game to watch him. The girl who'd waited for him after the game. The girl with the red hair and freckles who grinned at him like he was worth knowing, not just watching on the field.
"I-yeah. Yeah, I'm hungry. I'm always hungry after games." He adjusted his bag, hyperconscious of the green notebook visible at the top that he knew she probably saw because Daisy saw everything. "There's a diner off campus. Nothing fancy. They make decent burgers. If you want. I mean, you probably have studying or-"
"I spend ninety-eight percent of my time studying. I get hungry sometimes, too," she said, her tone light and teasing. "Let's go get some greasy burgers. I might even share my fries with you."
Something dangerous bloomed in Hayden's chest at her words. Hope. The corner of his mouth lifted into what could almost be called a smile. "Might share your fries? That's generous of you."
He started walking toward the parking lot, instinctively adjusting his pace so she could keep up easily. The campus lights illuminated their path, and he was acutely aware of how close she was walking beside him. Close enough that their arms occasionally brushed.
"Fair warning, I eat a lot after games. Like, an embarrassing amount. So you might want to reconsider that fry-sharing offer." He glanced at her as they walked. "Thanks. For coming today. And for... this." He gestured vaguely between them. "You didn't have to."
"Well, it's a good thing they have an endless supply at the diner." She laughed, then shook her head, dismissing his thanks with a wave of her hand. "I wanted to."
Hayden's steps faltered for just a second. I wanted to. Three words said with such simple certainty. No one wanted to spend time with him. Not really.
"Yeah. Okay," he said quietly, voice rough with something he couldn't name.
They walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, the campus gradually emptying as students dispersed to parties and dorms. The diner's neon sign glowed in the distance, but Hayden found himself walking more slowly.
"You know, when you were explaining calculus the other day, using football... that was the first time in a long time something academic actually made sense to me." He kept his eyes forward, but his voice softened. "Made me feel like maybe I'm not as hopeless as everyone thinks I am. So thanks for that too." He finally looked at her, vulnerability unmistakable in his steel-gray eyes. "For seeing something in me worth the effort."
"You're not hopeless. You were just never given the tools you needed to succeed." She looked up at him briefly, then down at her feet. "You're human."
Hayden stopped walking entirely. You're human. Two words that shouldn't have hit him like a freight train, but they did. He turned to face her fully, gym bag sliding off his shoulder to the ground.
"Daisy." His voice was barely above a whisper. "I don't-... People don't usually talk to me like that. Like I'm worth... anything beyond what I can do on the field." The vulnerability in his expression was raw, unguarded. "You make me want to try. Not just at calculus. At... everything."
She held his gaze for longer than necessary, and his heart stuttered in his chest.
"Let's go eat." She nudged him with her elbow. "Then you can walk me to my dorm."
"Yeah. Let's go eat," he said, voice steadier now.
They started walking again, and this time when their arms brushed, he didn't pull away. The diner's neon glow grew brighter as they approached, but all Hayden could think about was the fact that she'd just casually mentioned him walking her to her dorm afterward.
"Fair warning- if you're expecting me to be charming dinner company, you're gonna be disappointed. I'm better at tackling people than small talk."
But there was something lighter in his tone now, almost playful. As he pulled open the diner door for her and they slid into a corner booth, Hayden realized he couldn't remember the last time he'd looked forward to something that wasn't football.
--
After they ate, and Hayden had stolen over half of Daisy's fries while she'd demanded he supply her coffee in the mornings for the next week as payback, they walked out into the cool night air.
"Can I ask you something personal?" she said after a few moments, glancing up at him.
Hayden's stomach knotted at the word personal, but he forced himself to nod. "Yeah. You can ask."
She pursed her lips for a second, looking up at the stars. "Do you... Do your parents ever come to games?"
Hayden's steps faltered, and for a moment, the only sound was the crunch of gravel under their feet. "No. They don't." His voice was flat in that way that meant he was working hard to keep emotion out of it. "My mom left when I was twelve. Just... packed up one day and didn't come back. And my dad... Well, he used to come. Freshman year, maybe half the games. But we had a falling out, and now he doesn't even return my calls."
He stopped and turned to face her fully, vulnerability raw in his eyes. "So no, I don't have anyone in my corner. Haven't for a long time. That's why... When I saw you today from the field, in the student section... that meant something. More than you probably realize."
She looked up at him, not with pity, but with something that looked almost like admiration. "Then I'll be there every Saturday," she said simply, like it was the easiest decision in the world.
Hayden felt something break open in his chest. "Daisy. You don't have to-"
But even as he said it, he knew he wanted her to. Desperately.
"I know I don't have to. I want to. Rule Number One?" A small smirk played at her lips.
His hand lifted halfway, hesitating, before his fingers brushed against hers; tentative, testing. When she didn't pull away, he let his hand settle around hers. Hayden let out a breath that was halfway to a laugh, shaking his head. His thumb brushed across her knuckles. "Rule Number One. You're really gonna hold me to that?"
Daisy nodded, smiling up at him like he hung the moon and stars. Looking at him in a way he never deserved.
"Thank you," he said quietly, and the words carried more weight than two syllables should ever hold. "I've never had anyone. You make me feel like maybe I'm not as alone as I thought I was."
The corner of his mouth lifted into something genuine, a real smile.
She smiled back at him, and he couldn't help but notice how the starlight caught the golden flecks in her eyes, making them shimmer like constellations.
"Alright then. No acting like it's a burden on you." He stepped closer, closing the already-small distance between them. "You're dangerous, you know that? Walking into my life with your color-coded notes and your football analogies and your... kindness. Making me think I deserve good things."
The dorm building glowed in the distance, but neither of them moved toward it.
"Every Saturday. I'm gonna look for you in those stands. And when I find you..." He paused, vulnerability flickering across his face. "That's gonna be what I'm playing for."
"You do deserve good things," she said softly, pulling her hands away and tucking them into her pockets. "I'll be in the stands cheering you on."
Hayden's hand felt suddenly cold, empty. She looked toward the dorms, and he caught something in her expression; reluctance, like she didn't want the night to end either.
"I'll bet you're exhausted," she said, starting to walk again.
"Yeah. Exhausted," he said, though it was a lie. He was more awake than he'd ever felt in his life.
They walked in silence until they reached her dorm. At the entrance, she smiled up at him.
"Tuesday and Saturday," she said, confirming their routine. She paused, looking up at him. "Text me when you make it back safe. Night, Hayden."
And with that, she walked inside and up the stairs, disappearing from view.
Hayden stood frozen, watching until she was completely gone. Text me when you make it back safe. Nobody had asked him to do that in years.
The walk back to his apartment felt shorter somehow, lighter. He dropped his gym bag by the door and pulled out his phone, typing: Made it back. Thanks for tonight. For all of it.
He hesitated, then added: See you Tuesday. And Saturday.
For the first time in longer than he could remember, Hayden fell asleep thinking about something other than surviving the next day. He fell asleep thinking about Daisy's smile in the tunnel, her hand in his under the streetlights, and the promise of every Saturday for the rest of the season.