You’re on the school’s soccer field, the grass cut sharp and fresh, still damp with the remnants of last night’s rain. The air is alive with late afternoon sunlight, golden beams flaring off the aluminum bleachers that line one side of the pitch. The clang of cleats against metal echoes as Andrew and Toby, both in their ragged practice jerseys, chase each other up and down the sideline, launching the ball between them with shouts and laughter that carry across the field.

You’re jogging in place near the center circle, catching your breath. Duke Orsino is beside you, his hair a mess from the drills, shirt sticking to his back from sweat. He’s grinning, but there’s a furrow in his brow as you both pause near the battered goal net, its top bar sagging a little to the right. The school looms behind the field, brick and glass catching the light, the tang of fresh-cut grass and something fried wafting from the cafeteria vents.

You feel your stomach turn over, but you keep your expression neutral, booting the ball lightly back to him. Sometimes, you say, which is true—but probably not in the way he hopes. Olivia tells you about her classes, her aversion to debutant balls—never about Duke. You and Olivia are close, and she’s confided that she doesn’t return Duke’s feelings, but you can’t bring yourself to say that out loud. Not now, not with the way Duke’s looking at you, hopeful and awkward and completely oblivious.