The Beautiful Truth

** 11

It was halftime, and he felt like he could fly to the moon and back on his own power. This is what he lived for.

But, despite telling himself he wasn't going to think about her again until after the game—which had worked with every other girl he'd ever known—Talyn couldn't help but look twice as he approached the field house after walking off the field. His teammates were slapping him on the back as they passed, but he was 1400 miles away...in his mind of course.

Last year at homecoming, he was sure that Sawyer wasn't going to make it to the game. She'd promised to be there, but he hadn't seen her in her normal spot in the stands while he was warming up on the sidelines. His dad had even caught him looking for her sometime during the second quarter—and only rolled his eyes before reminding him to pay attention to what was happening on the field.

He'd half-heartedly lead the team to a 14-10 advantage at half-time, and he was dragging his feet on the way back to the locker rooms behind the stadium bleachers. Everyone else was practically skipping—they weren't supposed to be beating Faulkland, anyway...although they did, and then won the state championship afterwards, he reminded himself in a flurry of digressing thoughts.

Anyway, he was dragging his feet, shrugging off the praise of his coaches and teammates, and wishing Sawyer was around. She'd never let him down before.

And then he'd looked up to see her standing against the field house corner, one boot up on the wall, and her hands pressed in fists into the pockets of that stupid Abercrombie coat she loved so much, with the fake fur around the collar. All she could give him was half a grin before he ran to her and picked her up in a sweaty bear hug.

"Fourteen to ten? That's the best you can do?" she'd said after he put her down.

Of course, never wanting to talk about herself first. Never mind that she'd just gone to her dream school for an admissions interview. She wanted to know why he wasn't beating the hell out of the other team.

He knew just what to tell her, though. "Nah, I was just waiting on you before I started showing off. I didn't want you to miss all the action."

She had only laughed...

Talyn smiled sadly to himself, but let the memory linger only a second longer. She wasn't here, but the girl whose initials he'd worn on both wrists since he was fifteen was surely watching on TV. If she was paying close enough attention—and he knew she would be—she'd notice that this time, he'd left the letters on the outside...rather than layering over them, and keeping his secret all to himself.