Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the stars refuse to shine
Out of the back you fall in time
I somehow find
You and I collide.
- Howie Day.
____________________________________________
Three weeks had passed since that night.
Three weeks, and Camila was no closer to putting a name or face to the boy who'd taken her virginity.
Tonight was the tournament game for the city championship between the Whitecastle's Knights and the Ashford's Jaguars. Camila's father could think of nothing else, speak of nothing else, except handing Roy Mendes his ass on a silver platter. There were signs and decorations up everywhere declaring which team each household or business was rooting for. Predictions were being made all across town, most going to Ashford, which pissed Camila's father off even more. But he really couldn't spin a convincing argument. Ashford had an advantage over every other team in the state. Their quarterback, Shawn Mendes, was the best the state had seen in twenty years.
Camila didn't know him, had never seen him off the field or out of uniform, though she'd watched him play in every game against Whitecastle in the past four years. She had to admit, he was phenomenal. The Knights had a lot of work ahead of them if they wanted to best Mendes's arm. He would, no doubt, be awarded the MVP trophy for the fourth year in a row, even winning out over her own brother, Carlos, two years prior when Mendes was only a sophomore. This was the biggest game of the year. Everyone who was anyone would be there, sporting their team's colors and waving banners over their heads.
But Camila didn't care about football or championships or MVP player awards tonight. She couldn't concentrate on any of that because all she could think about was the fact that she was eight days late.
She tried to reason with herself, that eight days wasn't that bad. She'd been late before, but before she never had cause to worry.
"You're probably just stressing yourself out," Hailee had told her. "Relax and I bet it'll come."
But as the days passed, Camila felt none of the usual cramping, bloating, or fatigue, not a single headache or bout of dizziness. She didn't need a test to tell her, because deep down, she already knew. But she peed on the stick anyway, and now, twenty minutes before she was to leave for the biggest game of her dad's career, she paced in front of her tiny attached bathroom, wringing her hands in front of her, the tiny timer on her desk clicking away the longest three minutes of her life.
Hailee sat on Camila's bed in her matching white and gold cheerleading uniform, her face drawn. Camila knew Hailee didn't know what to say or how to comfort her. But Camila didn't want any of that anyway. The only thing she did want was for her gut to be wrong.
"This waiting sucks," Hailee said.
Camila couldn't help but agree. "Yeah, but you know what really sucks?"
"What? Besides you maybe being knocked up?"
Camila nodded. "Yes, and I don't even get the pleasure of remembering how I got that way."
Hailee snorted and slapped her hand over her mouth. "Don't make me laugh, this isn't funny."
"I never said it was. I just think it would at least be nice to have some memory as to how I got myself into this situation—other than the vague recollection of a guy sticking his hands down my pants."
"Hey, bright side? At least you got that out of it. Most guys our age don't know what the hell they're doing down there. It's like our parts are some cosmic mystery or something. I'm tempted to draw a diagram or something for next time—except, well, after all this I'm considering becoming celibate."
"Nice, Haiz—"
A loud buzz sounded and Camila startled. She took in a shaking breath and glanced at Hailee. Hailee nodded and Camila turned to enter the bathroom. The tiny stick rested on the sink, its blue cap jutting just a little bit over the side. Slowly Camila moved across the room, her eyes fixating on the cap and refusing to move. When she reached the edge of the sink, she finally allowed her eyes a glance. And there it was, just as she knew it would be.
A giant blue plus sign right in the results window.
She reached out a trembling hand and picked it up, holding it between two fingers, as if it might bite her if she touched it with any more. The result didn't change no matter how far or close she held it to herself. It was still the largest plus sign, in the most vibrant blue, she'd ever seen. It didn't matter that she'd already sort of known, having it confirmed was so much worse than she'd imagined. Her head spun and her stomach squeezed. Camila lowered the test back to the sink and abruptly fell to her knees. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Hailee was at her side in seconds.
"Oh, God. Oh, God," Hailee said. "Are you sure? Maybe it's wrong. We should get another. Take another." Her hands flailed in front of her, like she didn't quite know what to do with them or like she was magically going to produce another pregnancy test out of thin air.
Camila closed her hands over Hailee's, bringing them to rest on her thighs. "No. I'm sure."
"But you can't be Mila. It was just once. Once! Who gets pregnant their first time? I mean ... you just can't be!"
Camila found it odd that Hailee was the one freaking out, when Camila was the one whose life had just ended. She stood slowly, her mind and body numb, and picked up the positive test, carrying it back into her room. Stopping in front of her desk, she placed the test down next to the timer and on top of her calendar. A bright red circle surrounded today's date and written in the square were the words: Happy birthday to ME!
Camila stared at the date for what seemed like a long time before repeating in a monotone voice, "Happy birthday to me," and shoving the test, calendar, and timer off her desk and into the trash can in one swift movement.
____________________________________________
Energy was high that night in the locker room. It usually was rowdy and loud on game nights, but tonight it had a current going through it like Shawn had never felt before. This was the game everyone in town had been waiting for. It was the one he'd been waiting for.
In the stands tonight would be three college scouts, all of whom were there for him. He knew, even without the win tonight, he would have at least two, most likely all three, offers before the game was even over. He knew he was good. Outstanding even. There was no need to question it. Although, he had been playing a bit more distracted these last few weeks.
For some reason, he couldn't get the night of the party out of his mind. It didn't sit well with him leaving things as they were. He knew he should, that it really didn't matter in the long run. People had one night stands all the time, and it really wasn't a big deal. But it bothered him that he didn't even know her name, couldn't recall her face. He didn't know why it bugged him so much; it never had in the past. In fact, there were some girls he wished he could forget. But not this time. Not this girl.
Alex had been no help, claiming he hadn't really paid attention to the girl's face. All he knew was that she seemed 'super tiny' and had dark brown hair. Thank you very much, Captain Obvious. As previously stated, no help at all.
Shawn hadn't tried to get any information outside of Alex. He couldn't risk anything getting back to his father. If he thought Shawn was hooking up with some girl, there would be hell to pay at home and at practice. Shawn didn't need that right now, so he tried the best he could to keep his head out of his thoughts and in the game. After the season, if he still couldn't get it out of his mind, he could look for her then.
"Mendes!" Alex plopped down on the bench beside Shawn, still only dressed in shorts and a tee-shirt. "You ready for this?"
Shawn pulled his shoulder pads over his head and worked on strapping them on. "Are you? You're not even dressed yet." He stretched one of the elastic straps from the back under his arm and attached it to the front chest portion of his pads, then repeated with the other side.
"Don't you worry about me, Sunshine, just make sure you get that ball where it needs to go."
Shawn shoved Alex, causing him to almost fall off the bench. "I told you not to call me that anymore."
"You know, it hurts me that you don't like the nickname I slaved and slaved over."
"You didn't come up with Sunshine, jackass. So knock it off."
"I can't help it. You are like the holy ray of light in our team, I just can't stop my mouth from calling out Suuuuuuuunshiiiiiiiine," Alex sang the last word.
Shawn laughed and shoved him again. This time Alex toppled over the edge and lay sprawled across the floor. Gabriel Morgan peeked around the corner of the lockers and asked, "Are we calling him Sunshine again?"
"NO!" Shawn said at the same time Alex shouted, "YES!"
But it was no use. A chorus of "Sunshines" chanted throughout the locker room in the same sing-songy voice Alex used, which Shawn was pretty sure he'd stolen from some movie.
Shawn leaned over Alex and said, "You're an ass," before grabbing his jersey and helmet and making his way toward the doors.
"Awww, come on, Sunshine! Don't be like that!" Alex called out after him, laughter shaking his voice.
Shawn walked away and held his hand up over his head, flipping Alex the bird without looking back. His retreat from the locker room was followed by more laughter, more singing of his supposed nickname, and catcalls. For as much as his teammates seemed to want to ride him tonight, none of them followed. They knew Shawn needed these few minutes to center himself, to get himself ready for what was to come. It was his ritual. They thought he needed it for concentration on the field, but that wasn't it at all. It was mostly to avoid his father.
Being the son of the coach lent to some pretty shitty playing conditions. Shawn had received ribs his whole playing career about being coach's pet, but what none of them realized was, Shawn was probably his father's least favorite player.
There was no one his father was harder on. No one he pushed the way he pushed Shawn. Football was everything to Roy Mendes. Nothing and no one came before it. Not his mother when she still was alive, not his job, and certainly not Shawn. He was just a means to an end, a way to achieve the dream his father's injured knee never let him reach. This was his way in, his way to play in college and to maybe go pro. This was everything.
Out in the hall, a chilly breeze wafted down the corridor from the open double doors at the end. The fresh scent of approaching winter clung to the gust. Shawn's father liked to leave them open to give him the feeling of running out an actual tunnel. Yeah, it was pathetic, but Shawn could see why he did it. Exiting a tunnel onto the field with fans chanting their name was the dream for every serious football player. They all wanted it, craved it. And Shawn was determined to get it. If he could just keep on this track, keep his nose out of trouble, he'd be right there ready to take it all.
The moment Shawn exited the building, he wanted to turn right back around. Standing against the side of the building, in the nook he usually used, stood Kiera Kien, his on again, off again ex-girlfriend. She grinned and wiggled her fingers hello when she saw him. Shawn took a breath and moved toward her.
"What are you doing here, Kiera? You know this is where I come to unwind before the game."
She moved out of the shadows, her short skirt showing off a generous amount of thigh. She'd always been a gorgeous girl: long blonde hair, blue eyes, a body with just the right amount of curves in just the right size. But Shawn was tired of her, tired of the shit he had to put up to be with her.
"I thought maybe you could use some help with that." She bit her lip.
Shawn dropped his helmet to the ground and pulled his jersey over his head, straightening it across his pads. "Not during the season. You know that."
This was where Shawn had always had a problem with their relationship. Kiera just couldn't grasp the fact that when it was time for football, he couldn't have any distractions—including her. She said it made her feel like football was more important to him than her, and he'd told her in no uncertain terms that it was. She just refused to listen.
She took another step toward him and walked her fingers up his arm. "That's not what I heard."
"What are you talking about?" Shawn asked, becoming frustrated with her taking up his alone time. He only had precious moments before he needed to be back in the locker room for Coach's pep talk.
"Oh, don't pretend like you don't know." Kiera ran her hand down his side and started to walk around him, her hand following until it rested right on his ass and she stood on his other side. Rising up on tip-toes, she touched her lips to his ear. "Did you really think I wouldn't hear about your little sex-ban break a few weeks ago?"
Shawn stiffened at her words.
"I'm only disappointed you didn't call me. You know I would have taken care of you." She nipped at his ear. "Better than that Whitecastle cheerleader skank you had all over you."
Shawn pushed her away. Wait. What did she just say? "What?"
"Come on, Shawn." She grinned. "Stop acting like you don't know what I'm talking about. Alex's party? You and the trashy brunette in the stripper boots?"
Shawn's brows rose and his heart beat faster. "How do you—? You weren't even at that party."
"My cousin was there." Kiera moved in closer again, pressing her body against his and hooking her fingers around his hip bones to pull him into her. "It's okay, baby, I'll forgive you if you ask nicely."
Shawn couldn't think. A Whitecastle cheerleader? He didn't normally go for the cheerleader type, but ... If she was a Whitecastle cheerleader, that would mean she'd be there tonight. He glanced toward the field, where he could hear the sounds of spectators filling the stands. The lights shone bright over the field, and to one side he saw them: their uniforms consisting of white short skirts and tight half-shirts. Was she over there? His mystery girl?
"Shawn," Kiera's voice broke him out of his thoughts. "Are you listening to me?"
Shawn shook off her hold and bent to retrieve his helmet. "I've got to go." He turned to walk back to the locker room, his head even more jumbled now than it had been, when Kiera grabbed his arm.
"But—"
He pulled his arm out of her grasp. "No, Kiera. I don't know what you think you heard, but there's been no lift of the ban. I—I have to go."
Kiera called his name again, but he ignored her. He entered the building and thrust his hand into his hair. If what Kiera said was true, then the girl would be on the sideline tonight, watching him. Would she say anything? Had she already? Would he recognize her when he saw her?
There were too many questions, too many variables. That same part of him that had been telling him this whole thing was no big deal, was barely a whisper anymore. The part that screamed "you're in deep shit now, asshole" took over everything else.
He could just hear the chatter now: Whitecastle cheerleader screws Ashford quarterback—literally!
Shit.
He didn't need this now. Not with the way his father had been all over him, more so than usual, and especially not when he had college scouts watching him tonight. He would never hear the end of it if his father found out he'd jumped one of the enemies. He needed to find that girl. Needed to figure out what she knew and what kind of gossip she'd already spread. And most of all, he needed to make sure that, for at least the rest of the season, she kept her damn mouth shut.
____________________________________________
"Mila! God, pay attention!" Ailee, the head cheerleader, growled. "We're going to drop you on your ass in front of Ashford's entire crowd if we don't perfect this toss."
Camila forced herself to focus on Ailee. Like all the rest of the squad, Ailee's strawberry blonde hair was pulled back into a high ponytail with white and gold ribbons tied around the band, and it bobbed back and forth as she talked.
"Sorry," Camila said, unable to pull herself completely out of her head. Her eyes kept dipping to her stomach, roving over the flat surface, her thoughts consumed by the fact that there was something in there. Something growing and living that someone she didn't know put there.
Ugh.
She felt sick.
"What's up with you tonight?" Ailee asked. "You've been spaced out since you got here."
Camila opened her mouth to speak, but Hailee answered for her. "Lay off, Ails. It's her birthday."
"So, what? You hitting the bottle early or something?" Ailee scowled. "I don't care if it's her birthday. I don't want to look like complete morons in front of Ashford. You know we have to face them again in a few weeks at semi-finals."
Hailee's eyes narrowed into slits so small they almost looked closed. That look meant nothing good, so Camila interjected before things could get ugly.
"I'm sorry," she repeated. "I'm fine. Let's go."
Hailee gave her a concerned look, but Camila shook her head. She couldn't act any differently around anyone. No one could know. No one could even suspect anything was wrong. Not yet.
Camila moved up behind two of her teammates and placed her hands on their shoulders. They grasped each other's wrists, forming a small, square platform with their fists. Another girl stepped in front and one moved behind Camila, placing her hands at Camila's waist. The girl in the back counted off. When she hit two, the three girls in front squatted down, and on three, Camila jumped straight up. Her feet hit the platform and a second later she was thrust into the air, wind whipping around her as she rose and rose, flying high above the other girls. When she felt herself hit her peak height, she arched her back and kicked her feet into the air, doing an upside-down scissor split before flipping over completely.
It felt like minutes instead of seconds that she was in the air. Up there, she felt like herself. Like everything in her world was right again. There was no ridiculous feud turning her father into a monstrous ass, no drunken sex with a stranger against a bathroom door, no human being trying to grow in her womb. There was just her and just the sky.
And then, she started to descend, and with her went that feeling of rightness.
The girls below caught her, one hooking her arms under Camila's, and two cradling her butt and legs. They set her down carefully, and Ailee peered at her with scrutiny.
"I suppose that'll do," she said. "Well, come on, it's time to form up."
Camila gathered her poms from the ground and jogged after the rest of her squad to the entrance of the locker room. In just a few moments, her team would burst through those doors, run through the tunnel the cheerleaders created, and onto the field. Camila always loved the adrenaline it gave her. How the lights shone down and made the field feel like its own special little universe. She loved the smell of the concession stand, the sound of the crowd shouting and cheering, the crack of the helmets and pads as the players collided on the field. Maybe if she could just concentrate on that, just for tonight, she could forget about everything else. Could forget that her life was about to change. Could forget all the things she didn't, and would maybe never, know.
The door to the locker room opened with a slam, and boys in white pants and gold jerseys came rushing out. Camila jumped and cheered with the rest of her squad, poms shaking and twisting in the air. The boys hooted and hollered, pumped up and ready to give their all on the field. Last out the door were her father and his assistant coaches. His face was drawn and determined. He didn't spare her a glance as he passed by.
Her squad chased after the boys, facing the crowd and pumping them up with cheers and flips. Camila trailed behind, but with much less enthusiasm. Hailee walked with her.
"You okay?" she asked.
Camila shrugged. "I don't know. I'm just ... trying to forget about it for now."
Hailee tucked her arm around Camila's shoulder and pulled her into her side just as the other locker room doors slammed open. The band on the opposite side of the field started up with Ahsford's school song and cheers erupted from the stands. The sound of feet pounded over the ground, and Ccamila turned just in time to see the Ashford Jaguar's explode through their cheerleader made tunnel, led by their star quarterback, number seven. Just the way he ran was confident, so sure he could lead his team to victory.
Camila groaned internally, thinking he was probably correct in thinking that and also dreading the ride home if her team did, in fact, lose. Fantastic. A wonderful ending to such a wonderful day. God, could it get any worse?
____________________________________________
Shawn's back hit the ground with a thud, and all the air in his lungs whooshed out. Two guys lay on top of him, lingering almost as if they were afraid to let him up. He heard his father yelling at him from the sidelines to "get his head out of his ass and throw the damn ball." Slowly, his chest lightened as the weight lifted from his body. Alex leaned over him, his hand out to offer him help up. Shawn took it and dropped the ball where he'd fallen.
Six yards lost.
Damn it.
"Sorry, man," Alex said. "I couldn't hold 'em. It's like these guys injected a bunch of adrenaline before coming on the field tonight. They're insane."
Shawn was irritated and his shoulder hurt from the numerous hits he'd received that night. "Don't give me your bullshit excuses, Ludwig, just hold the damn line! If I go down once more, I'm going to hand you your ass when we get back to the sideline."
Alex's face contorted in anger, but he didn't say a word. He just nodded and ran up to take his position on the line. Shawn rolled his shoulder, trying to work out the stiffness and made the mistake of glancing at the sideline. His father's eyes bore into him, burning straight through flesh and bone to his heart. Shawn looked away immediately. It wasn't that they were losing, they were actually ahead 14-6, but Shawn just wasn't on his game tonight. He'd already thrown one interception and had been sacked twice in the first half. His eyes kept drifting to the other sideline, wondering if he might spot her, but the cheerleaders were too far away and it looked as if they had a couple brunettes.
Shawn shook the thoughts from his head and lined up behind the center. He studied the formation of the defense, noticing the way they played heavily to the left, expecting him to throw to Gabriel. Quickly, he searched his mind for a different play and called out his cadence, the new play mixed with the normal nonsensical color and number combos. The ball snapped into Shawn's hands and he backed up a few steps. His eyes roved over the field, those precious seconds feeling like hours as he searched.
Damn it! The receiver wasn't there. Whitecastle defense had everyone covered. Shawn was just about to tuck the ball in and run it himself, when someone slammed into his side. Pain spread across his ribs and he fell to the ground once more. He groaned as the ref blew his whistle.
Forth down, over.
Shawn rose from the ground, smacking away the hands of his teammates as they tried to help him up. He slumped his shoulders and started toward the sideline, afraid to look up and see the fury in his dad's eyes.
Unfortunately, he didn't need to look in order to reap the consequences. The moment he stepped over the line, he felt his head jerk to the side.
"What in the hell was that?" his father seethed, his fingers hooked through Shawn's face mask. "You call that football? That was one of the most disgusting displays I've ever seen!"
Shawn tried to pull his helmet out of his father's grasp. "The offensive line—"
His father tightened his grip and pulled Shawn's head forward until his face mask touched his father's chin. "Don't you try to pass blame. This is your team. You're their leader. How do you expect them to get behind you when you're playing like shit? You look like you have no idea what you're doing out there! Your job is to throw, not stand around looking like a little lost puppy." He shoved Shawn's face to the side and smacked the back of his helmet, hard. "Get your ass on the bench and pray I don't send Michael in for you next time."
Shawn pushed his way through the players on the sideline, ripped off the chin strap, and tore the helmet from his head, throwing it to the ground next to the bench. He sat and immediately dropped his head to his hands. His father was right, he was playing like shit. And he had no excuse. His mind was jumbled and he couldn't concentrate on what was happening around him. He needed to get a grip. If he didn't, he could potentially lose this game. Not to mention, he was not putting on a very good show for the scouts in the stands.
"Mendes!" his father shouted.
Shawn looked up, surprised to see they had possession of the ball once again.
"Time to prove you actually know how to play." He gestured to the field. "Don't embarrass me this time."
Shawn grabbed his helmet and jumped off from the bench, avoiding his father's stare and following his team onto the field. They huddled up in the middle, and Shawn called the play.
"Wait," Alex said. "Coach called a pass play."
"I know exactly what he called." And Shawn knew why. The scouts. His father wanted to show off Shawn's arm, but Cabello was not going to let him throw, and Shawn knew it. Their defense had been crowding his receivers all night long, and Shawn was pretty sure they weren't about to stop. "But these guys are all over West and Mike. If I keep trying to throw, they're going to take me down every time."
"So you wanna go with a running play?"
"We're gonna fake the hand off to Taylor, but we're going with quarterback keeper."
Alex raised a brow. "You're going to run it? But we need a full ten."
Shawn nodded, knowing full well the keeper play was only meant for gaining a few yards at a time, but he wasn't planning to stop. "Cabello's not stupid. Everyone knows the scouts are here tonight, and he knows they want to see the pass. That's why he's shutting me down at every turn. If we fake the hand off to Taylor and I run, he's not going to be expecting that. I can get us the first down."
"But we used quarterback keeper against him last time."
Shawn shook his head. "But not with the fake. Trust me. It's going to work."
"This is stupid," Alex grumbled.
"Yeah, well, what I say goes, and I say we're running the play," Shawn said. "Now, are we clear?"
Mumbled affirmatives drifted throughout the huddle. Shawn met Alex's eyes, and even though they were worried, he gave one brief nod.
"Okay, let's get it done. Jaguars on three. One, two, three."
"Jaguars!" the team said in unison.
The center situated himself behind the line, bent, and wrapped his fingers around the ball. Shawn lined up behind him and started his cadence. After the snap, the ball touched his hands and he turned immediately, faking the hand off to Taylor. The defense took the bait and surged to the left to cover Taylor's run. Shawn paused for a few seconds, keeping with the rouse, then took off to the right, slipping through the hole forged by his line. It didn't take long for the defense to see what had happened and they were after him, diving at his feet and swiping at his waist. He managed to slip through their fingers and jump over a few fallen bodies before continuing his run up the sideline. Just as he reached the first down mark, he felt one of the defensive players crash into his side, knocking him out of bounds and into the opposing team's bench. He managed to stay up, but was grabbed by the pads and shoved back several times by a few of Whitecastle's players. They taunted and slapped at him as they jerked him around, his feet barely able to keep him upright, until his back hit a wall.
No. Not a wall.
People. Cheerleaders.
Cheerleaders that toppled like bowling pins under his weight. Screams went up all around him, and he stumbled back, almost tripping over one of the girls under his feet, when another scream sounded above him. Shawn looked up just in time to see a tiny girl falling from the sky. He didn't have time to think before his hands came up and the girl fell on top of him, knocking them both to the ground.
____________________________________________
Camila screamed all the way down. It wasn't like she'd never been dropped before, but coming down from a fully extended cupie with no one to catch you was not what she'd call fun. Her eyes closed automatically and her hands extended in front of her. Too soon she felt them connect with something hard, but that gave and fell the rest of the way with her. Arms wrapped around her back and her face met meshy feeling fabric. She still felt the jolt of hitting the ground, but whoever caught her took the brunt of the fall.
She heard a low groan, and recognized it as male immediately. Her eyes popped open. The first thing she saw was a football lying on the ground beside her, and the rise of a shoulder pad clad arm bearing the colors of black and gold.
"Lord," the person below her said. "I've never been so happy to be wearing a cup in my life." His voice was a strained breath.
But it was familiar.
A shiver worked its way down Camila's spine. She slowly raised herself, her eyes first settling on the large number seven adorning the front of his jersey then rising to his face. His helmet obscured most of his features, but she could still make out his mouth and nose and the black smudges painted across his cheekbones. Something stirred in her mind. His eyes were closed.
"You all right?" he asked, and Camila's breath caught.
A small crease formed between his brows and he opened his eyes.
A pair of light brown eyes, one lazy, stared back at her. Why are they so ... familiar? She'd seen eyes that eyes before—once.
As she stared at the boy lying on the ground beneath her, the fog lifted from her mind and he stared back at her from inside her memory. Lazy brown eyes, with a sexy smirk and words and breath and touches that lit her on fire. She tried to push off from him, but his fingers tightened on her back. He was staring at her like she was staring at him, as if someone had reminded him of something he'd forgotten too.
His eyes widened.
Camila didn't have a chance to say anything. A hand wrapped around her arm and yanked her up and off from him.
"God, Mila! Are you all right?" Hailee asked, her hands on Camila's shoulders and face, trying to check her out, to make sure she hadn't been hurt. But Camila couldn't move her eyes from his.
"I—I'm okay," she answered, her voice shaking.
Hailee hugged Camila then turned to the boy on the ground. "You asshole! You could have killed her!"
The boy started to rise from the ground, when Camila felt another presence at her back. "Karla, are you hurt?" her father asked.
She turned. "No, I'm okay. He—he cushioned the fall."
When she turned back around, the boy was unfastening his chin strap and pulling the helmet from his head. His thick brown hair was wet and matted to his skull, a stray curl fell on his forehead. Her heart pounded harder and harder in her chest, as recognition came together like pieces of a puzzle in her mind. Those eyes. Her gaze fell to his hands. Long, slender. She could almost feel them tracing her skin.
It was him. Her mystery boy.
And he was standing in front of her, looking at her like he'd lost and found her too.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I lost my footing when they pushed me—"
"Yes, I'm sure that's exactly what it was, Mendes," Camila's father snapped.
Mendes? Mendes! Camila's gaze fell to the number on his jersey again. Seven. Ashford's quarterback, number seven, Shawn Mendes.
Oh, God, this boy was Shawn Mendes. She'd screwed Shawn fucking Mendes!
"What's going on here?" Another voice called from behind Camila.
The boy—Shawn—groaned. A man stepped up beside them and eyed them all with scrutiny.
"So, this is how you play now? Huh, Mendes?" Camila's father glared at the man. "It isn't enough to play dirty on the field, now you're going to involve our girls too? He just about killed my daughter!"
Shawn's eyes flashed to Camila's and grew even bigger.
"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard, Cabello! My son was playing football, which is what your team should be doing!" Roy Mendes said.
The two men continued throwing insults and jabs at one another, but Shawn and Camila just stood there, looking at each other in disbelief. Camila was surprised by the shock on his face, like he didn't remember either. Didn't he? He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but was interrupted by his father.
"Come on, Shawn, we have a game to win."
When Shawn didn't move, the man grabbed him by the arm and tugged him forward. He stumbled a little as his eyes weren't on where he was going. They were on her instead. Finally, when his father yanked his arm again, Shawn tore his gaze away and stepped onto the field.
Camila's chest hurt. Hailee was fussing with her uniform and hair, saying something about it being "a total disaster", but Camila couldn't pay her any mind. After a few minutes, she felt a pull on her hand.
"Mila," Hailee said softly. "Are you sure you're okay? I mean, what about the ..." She gestured discreetly to Camila's belly.
Camila closed her eyes and shook her head. She felt sick, dizzy, disoriented.
"Come on, you should sit—"
"No. That's not ..." Camila opened her eyes and met Hailee's. "Haiz ..." Her voice sounded small and squeaky, like she was about to cry.
"What?" Hailee's brows drew together. "What's wrong?"
"He ..." Camila pointed in the direction Shawn walked. She couldn't see him anymore, as he was now across the field from her. "He ..."
"I know. The asswipe almost killed you!"
"No, Haiz." She swallowed and met Hailee's stare once more. "He's the one."
"The one?" Hailee frowned.
Camila glanced back out at the field. "He's the one," she repeated. "From the party ... He's the one."
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Author's note:
Hey lovelies! How was Christmas? I hope you guys had a merry and loving one! I swear, you bunch are pretty calm with this story. Anyway, do comment and favourite if you like it!
xoxo
BloomsBelle