Between Two Worlds

Chapter 8 | Setting Into Routine

"Thanks," Madison said, seeming genuinely pleased by the compliment. "I always get nervous before Tyler's games. I want to look supportive but not like I'm trying too hard."

"You definitely hit the right balance."

The soccer complex was impressive—a full-sized field with professional lighting, bleachers that could easily seat several hundred people, and a concession stand that smelled like popcorn and hot dogs. Parents, students, and community members were already claiming seats, and the energy was building toward kickoff.

We found spots in the bleachers with a good view of the field, and I settled in to watch my first American high school soccer game. The atmosphere was more intense than I'd expected—students had painted their faces in school colors, parents carried homemade signs with players' names, and someone had brought a drum that was already setting up rhythmic cheers.

"There's Tyler," Madison said, pointing toward the field where players were warming up.

Even from the bleachers, Tyler Matthews stood out. He moved with the fluid confidence of a natural athlete, and his teammates clearly looked to him for leadership. When he jogged over to the sideline to grab a water bottle, he spotted our group in the stands and waved.

Madison waved back enthusiastically, and I couldn't help but notice the way Tyler's gaze lingered on me for just a moment longer than strictly necessary before he returned to warm-ups.

"He looks focused," I said to Madison.

"He always gets like this before big games. Completely locked in on strategy and execution. I love watching him play—he's so confident and in control."

The pride in her voice was unmistakable, and I felt a pang of guilt for the way Tyler had been looking at me. Madison clearly adored her boyfriend and was genuinely excited to show him off to her exchange student.

The game itself was everything I'd hoped for from American high school athletics—fast-paced, competitive, and loud enough to make conversation difficult. Tyler was clearly the star player, controlling the midfield with the kind of vision and skill that made it obvious why college scouts were interested.

West Valley took an early lead on a goal that Tyler set up with a perfectly weighted pass, and Madison cheered so loudly that people in the surrounding rows turned to look at her.

"That's my boyfriend!" she announced to anyone within hearing range, her face glowing with pride and excitement.

By halftime, West Valley was leading 2-0, and the crowd was in high spirits. Madison had relaxed completely, laughing at Jake's commentary on the opposing team's fashion choices and sharing popcorn with her parents.

"Having fun?" she asked me as the players headed off the field for halftime.

"Definitely. Tyler's incredible to watch."

"He really is," she agreed, her expression soft with affection. "Sometimes I can't believe how lucky I am."

The comment made my chest tight with guilt. Here was Madison, completely trusting and happy, celebrating her boyfriend's success and trying to include me in her world. And I was sitting here fighting attraction to the same boyfriend and hyperanalyzing every glance he sent my way.

I needed to get my head straight before I caused real damage to this family's dynamics.

The second half was even more intense than the first. The opposing team came out aggressive, clearly frustrated by their deficit, and the play became more physical. Tyler took several hard tackles but bounced back each time, his determination evident even from the stands.