Pretty When We Fall

9 - Scoring

Meghan Leary

Secretly? I was glad they didn't come with me.

Scar and Emmy probably thought I was being moody, but honestly - I just needed a break from the noise. From the questions. From Emmy's voice permanently stuck at full volume.

Showcase Day only came once a year, and even if most people used it to bunk off and loiter in town, I figured I'd do something different. Watch a football match. Cheer on the team. Pretend to be normal.

The sun was at its peak by the time I made it to the fields, the heat pulsing off the grass like a fever. I tried not to be late - but the stands were already crammed full. Elbows, backpacks, someone's sweaty arm pressed against my side. Too tight. Too much.

Then-

"Megs!"

For a second, I thought it was someone shouting at a player. Until a hand slid around my waist and pulled me through the crowd.

I looked up. Cory Matthews.

"Th-thanks. Um... yeah." Real smooth, Meghan.

"Don't worry about it. You looked like you were stressing." He winked, grinning before jogging back down to the team huddle.

I barely had time to process that before someone nudged my side.

"You're going red," Nick smirked from the row behind me. Kit was grinning beside him.

I stammered something unintelligible, which only made them laugh harder.

"You like Cory. It's painfully obvious," Kit teased.

"I do not!" I hissed. (I did. Very much. The photo in my pillowcase could confirm.)

The whistle blew, mercifully ending the interrogation. The match began. I tried to focus on the game.

Nick leaned in again. "She say anything else?"

It took me a second to realise what he meant. Scarlet.

"No. But she went out to the stables earlier. I assume to see Thomas. Even though she said she didn't want to."

He nodded, not saying anything more. I turned my attention back to the field - or, more accurately, to Cory.

There was something about watching someone do what they love. The way he lit up, confident and easy. God, I was doomed.

Half-time came too quickly. Still 0–0.

Kit offered to grab food from the vendor stalls. "You want anything?"

"Cherry Coke, please." I smiled, grateful for the excuse to do something with my hands.

While he was gone, I turned to Nick - only for him to beat me to it.

"Has she said anything about me?"

I blinked. "Oh my god, you are obsessed."

"I'm not! I just... I like the tension, okay? It's not hate. I like arguing with her. Honestly, it's kind of a turn-"

I shoved my hand in his face. "Please. Spare me."

Nick laughed, unbothered. Kit returned with my drink. When he asked what was so funny, Nick just said, "Inside joke."

No one seemed to notice the way Nick's eyes flicked toward the pitch every few minutes.

They should. It was obvious. Just like me with Cory.

And honestly? I was starting to think I wasn't the only one with a hallway crush.

———

Cory Matthews

We should've been two goals up by now.

The passes were messy, our focus off. The sponsors were watching from the shade, all blazers and smiles and not a clue what it actually meant to win.

I dumped water over my head, let it cool the rage simmering under my skin. And then I looked up.

There she was.

Meghan. Up in the stands, cheeks flushed, laughing at something Nick had probably said. Her smile was wide, real. Her blue eyes sharp even from here, catching the light and holding it. The kind of stare that should've left my head ages ago.

But it hadn't. She hadn't.

I'd been trying to flirt my way out of thinking about her since last year. Didn't work. She was still in my head - soft and stubborn and smarter than any girl who'd ever looked at me like I mattered.

And then Friday night happened.

That moment outside the party, just us and the moonlight and the silence between thudding bass lines - that had done it. I wasn't just curious anymore. I was in deep.

The ref blew the whistle. Second half. I jogged back onto the field.

No more distractions.

Except I kept seeing her. Every time I passed the stands. Every time the crowd cheered.

Harris scored halfway through. 1–0.

The whole place lit up, kids screaming like it was the championship. Meghan was on her feet, clapping so hard I thought her hands might bruise.

Then the other team equalised. A clean shot. 1–1. Tension settled again - like a held breath.

Time was running out. The sun was sinking low behind the trees, blinding everyone. I used it. Tackled hard. The ball bounced. Someone shouted. Thirty seconds of injury time.

Go.

I sprinted down the side, passed out to Harris. He kicked back.

I took the shot.

Goal.

Whistle.

We'd won.

I didn't think. Just ran - straight to the stands. Meghan was already leaning over the barrier, clapping wildly.

"You did it!" she laughed, throwing her arms around my neck.

I held her. Close. Warm. Just for a second.

And then she stepped back, suddenly shy.

"I'm really sorry! I just-um. I was happy for y-"

I kissed her.

Her words vanished between us. Her lips were soft. Warm. Sweet.

Cherry.

"Your lips taste like cherries," I murmured, smiling against her mouth.

"Oh my god, I had a drink- Wait, is that bad? Is it gross? I didn't mean-"

"I like cherries," I cut her off, laughing.

She rolled her eyes, but her smile broke through anyway. I pulled her back in.

And this time, she kissed me first.