Brad hadn’t expected to enjoy himself.That was the first thought that crossed his mind as he jogged across the grass toward the east field, the late afternoon sun hanging low in the sky. The field was already alive with movement—half a dozen guys stretching, laughing, passing a ball back and forth with careless ease. Music played faintly from someone’s speaker, blending with the sounds of shouts and sneakers scuffing against turf.And there, standing near the sideline with his hands on his hips, was Sammy Jo.Brad slowed his pace, his chest tightening slightly as their eyes met. For a split second, he considered turning around. Becky’s words echoed in his head, sharp and insistent. This is a bad idea. Don’t let him back in.But something stubborn rose up in Brad instead.He was already here.Sammy Jo’s face broke into a brief smile—not smug, not triumphant, just… relieved. He lifted a hand in a casual wave.“Glad you came,” he said when Brad reached him.Brad shrugged, keeping his to

Becky leaned against the brick wall outside the café, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, the crisp autumn air biting through the fabric of her jacket. She glanced at her watch for what felt like the hundredth time, tapping her foot impatiently. She hated waiting. It made her feel powerless, and right now, she had zero tolerance for feeling powerless about Brad.When Jared finally appeared, jogging slightly to catch up, she straightened, immediately letting her irritation show.“Finally,” she snapped, her voice sharp. “Do you even know what time it is?”Jared raised his hands in mock surrender. “Relax. I’m here. Better late than never, right?”Becky didn’t answer. Instead, she looked at him like he had just grown an extra head. They moved to the nearby bench, and he flopped down with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. Becky stayed standing, arms still crossed, a silent storm waiting to unleash.“Okay,” Jared began cautiously. “Here’s what happened at the café.”Becky narrow

It was another crisp Friday afternoon, and the field was buzzing with the usual energy. Brad jogged onto the grassy pitch, the familiar scent of freshly cut grass mixing with the slight tang of late autumn air. The boys were already scattered around the field, kicking the ball between themselves, calling out playful taunts, and laughing. Sammy Jo waved when he saw him approaching, a cheeky grin on his face. “You’re finally here! Thought you’d get lost in the city traffic again!”Brad rolled his eyes, smiling despite himself. “Yeah, yeah. Traffic. We’ve been through this.”The game began with the usual flurry of movement—sprints, passes, and playful tackles. Brad felt that familiar rush of adrenaline, the one that came from running full speed, weaving between players, and feeling the ball at his feet. Sammy Jo was surprisingly competitive today, moving with precision and calling out plays like he had been on the team for years. Brad had to admit, the boy had talent.As the match went o

The lecture hall was still filling with students when Jared slipped into the classroom, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He spotted Becky already seated near the front, her notebook open and pencil poised. He slid into the seat beside her, lowering his voice so only she could hear.“Becky,” he began, leaning in slightly. “You won’t believe what happened with Brad today.”Becky turned to him, a frown immediately forming on her face. “What now? He’s been acting fine the past few weeks.”Jared shook his head, frustration obvious in his eyes. “Fine? You call what happened today fine? Brad tried to use the favor I gave him for… Sammy Jo. And when I told him it was a bad idea, he practically exploded at me. It got heated—he even yelled at me. He hates me right now, Becky.”Becky’s frown deepened, and she placed her pen down. “Wait… are you serious? Sammy Jo? The same Sammy Jo that’s been the biggest pain in all of our asses. He wants to use your favor for him?”Jared nodded grimly. “Ex

The morning sun filtered through the large glass windows of Skyrun Inc., casting a warm glow over the open-plan office. The hum of computers and soft murmur of colleagues talking filled the room, but Brad barely noticed. He was focused, scanning through a spreadsheet of upcoming projects, double-checking numbers, and noting down a few adjustments he wanted to discuss with his supervisor, Matthew.A light tap on the edge of his desk made him look up. Sammy Jo was standing there, a stack of folders in hand and a tentative smile on his face.“Morning,” Sammy Jo said, trying to sound casual. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”Brad looked up fully now and offered a small nod. “Morning. No, you’re fine. Just going over some schedules for the new projects.”Sammy Jo set the folders down on the corner of Brad’s desk. “Mind if I sit? I thought it’d be easier if we went over these together.”Brad hesitated briefly, then gestured toward the empty chair across from him. “Sure. Makes sense.”As Sammy Jo