I could barely keep my footing as I lunged through the mud, my running shoes slipping beneath me like I was running on melted soap. The cold, wet sludge splashed up my legs as I slammed into the guy with the ball, dragging him down with all the force I could muster. He hit the ground hard, cursing as I tore the ball from his hands.
Somewhere behind me, I heard a roar- cheering. My team. That adrenaline-pumped shout that made your chest swell even if you were soaked to the bone and freezing your ass off.
Typical June day. Cold, drizzling rain. The sky was this depressing sheet of grey, and every now and then a gust of wind would cut through my uniform like a knife. I could barely feel my fingers. But none of it mattered. The teachers stood on the sidelines in their windbreakers, half paying attention, pretending to give a shit. As long as they got their weekly paycheck or their Thursday duty box ticked, they'd let us play in hail if it meant less time in the staffroom.
I tightened my grip on the ball and charged. Mud clung to my shoes, trying to drag me down, but I powered through it. The field blurred around me, just the sound of my breath, my teammates shouting, the squelch of wet grass underfoot. I saw the try line coming up and just threw myself forward.
With a grunt, I slammed the ball down right over the line, chest heaving. Cold rain pelted my back as I shoved myself up, arms raised like a goddamn gladiator.
"YES!" I shouted, not that anyone could hear me over the noise.
My teammates rushed in, half of them slipping in the mud on their way over, but none of us cared. We were soaked, bruised, filthy and we had won again. And in that moment, freezing and covered in mud, I felt unstoppable.
I turned toward the seating area under the rusted tin roof, where the rain tapped a steady rhythm like a thousand tiny fingers drumming against metal. It was a dull, grey afternoon—sky hanging low, the air thick with mist—but even from across the field, I spotted it right away.
That unmistakable hot pink umbrella.
I would've seen it even if I was blind. Phoebe always brought that thing out when it rained. It was impossible to miss—bright, flashy, totally out of place against the sea of dull black and navy ones. And it suited her perfectly.
A soft laugh slipped out as I jogged toward her, shoes squelching through mud. I was still catching my breath, lungs burning from the run, jersey soaked and clinging to my skin. But none of it mattered—not the cold, not the grime, not the fact that my thighs felt like jelly. I was already grinning.
And there she was—Phoebe, standing just under the umbrella, holding it like she was the queen of the field. Her eyes lit up when she saw me, lips pulling into that signature smirk of hers.
"That was awesome, babe," she said, her voice light and warm despite the chill in the air.
She was wearing my school hoodie; two sizes too big for her, the sleeves nearly swallowing her hands. Paired with her usual skirt and tights combo, she looked both winter-ready and casually perfect in that way only she could pull off.
I walked up with my arms open wide, ready to pull her in. My whole body was buzzing from the game, from the cold, from the pure high of winning, and all I wanted in that moment was to bury my face in her neck and stay there.
But she took one step back like I was some wild creature charging at her.
"Nuh uh," she warned, pointing a finger at me with exaggerated seriousness. "You are not touching me with your muddy ass."
I froze, hands still in the air, and gave her a dramatic eye-roll. "Seriously?"
She nodded, lips twitching like she was holding back a laugh. "Dead serious. You're covered in enough mud to plant crops."
I glanced down at myself. Yeah… I looked like I'd gone swimming in a swamp. Jersey stained, legs splattered, arms streaked with dirt from the tackle. My hair was soaked and sticking to my forehead. I was a mess.
"You're no fun," I teased, flashing her a grin.
Phoebe leaned slightly closer, enough to tip the umbrella so the edge covered me too, just a little. "And you smell like a wet dog."
I chuckled, brushing water off my face. "Romantic."
She smiled, that soft kind of smile she only gave when no one else was watching. The kind that made me feel like, despite all the chaos, mud, rain, whatever, I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
"Five-minute cuddle ban," she said, still pretending to be stern. "Then, maybe."
I nodded solemnly. "I'll wait."
"Good," she replied, then added, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, "and try not to die of hypothermia in the meantime."
~~~
The bus bays were packed, a chaotic mess of wet uniforms, heavy bags, and students jostling each other to squeeze under the narrow metal awnings. The rain had picked up again, slanting sideways as the wind pushed it through the open gaps. The smell of damp concrete and wet socks lingered in the air.
I sat under the shelter, my legs stretched out, soaking from the game. The rain beat down just inches away from my shoes, but under the metal roof, it was almost peaceful. Phoebe's head rested gently on my shoulder, her breath warm against my arm. She traced idle patterns on my thigh with her fingers, the soft contact helping to distract me from how uncomfortable I was in this itchy, too-big office uniform. The shirt clung awkwardly to my skin and the pants were at least a size too long.
Principal Callas had chewed me out for not bringing a change of clothes after the game. Gave me one of her infamous guilt-trip lectures while tossing me a loaned uniform like I'd personally insulted her entire career. Honestly, the woman had a talent for making stubbed toes sound like federal crimes.
I was halfway into zoning out to the rhythm of the rain when a voice cut through the hum of buses and student chatter.
"Um, hey Phoebe… you forgot your notebook from class..."
I looked up, and just like that, the peace evaporated.
Victor stood a few feet away, his uniform neat despite the weather. One hand gripped his cane, the other holding Phoebe's notebook close to his chest like it was something fragile. His eyes flicked between the two of us, more specifically, between me and her.
My jaw tightened. I felt the shift in my chest; something hot, quick, territorial. Before Phoebe could even react, I stood and snatched the notebook from his hand.
"Why do you have her notebook, hmm?" I demanded, staring him down. I loomed over him without meaning to, but didn't back off. The guy was barely reaching my chin; his posture all bent from the cane.
Phoebe sighed and stood up behind me. "Babe, just leave him-"
"No." I didn't even take my eyes off Victor. "Why do you have Phoebe's notebook? Did you steal it from her or some shit like that?"
"I didn't-" he started, but I cut him off.
"Oh shut the fuck up," I snapped, my voice sharper than I'd meant it to be. "Leave us alone before I beat your disabled ass right here in front of everyone-"
"Aaron!" Phoebe grabbed my arm, pulling me back with a mix of alarm and fury on her face. "That's enough!"
I felt my breath coming fast. My hands clenched. For a second, I just stood there, breathing hard, jaw twitching with every muscle screaming for a fight. But I looked at her, like, really looked, and saw the hurt in her eyes. Disappointment. Anger.
Reluctantly, I exhaled and backed off, letting the tension drain just enough to pull away from Victor.
"Fine," I muttered, my voice cold. "Get lost, Victor."
I gave him a hard shove, not enough to knock him down, but enough to make my point. He stumbled back, his cane catching his weight at the last second as he limped away without another word.
I watched him go, my blood still simmering. "I bet he's even faking that limp," I muttered under my breath.
Phoebe turned to me, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. "Aaron, stop being an asshole."
The words hit harder than I expected. She didn't raise her voice. She didn't need to.
Before I could say anything, her bus pulled into the bay with a hiss of brakes and squeal of wet tires. She stepped away without a word, walking toward the doors without looking back. No kiss. Not even a quick glance.
I stood there like an idiot, watching the bus drive off with her in it.
Then I groaned and dropped back onto the bench, leaning against the cold wall, rain still falling just beyond the shelter.
And for the first time all day, I didn't feel like I'd won anything.