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“Shit, I’ve left my gloves back at our seats,” I said.

“I’ll go grab them for you,” Wes offered.

“Don’t be silly. You’ve got a date with a Toddy’s burger. You can’t risk being late.”

“It’s no problem,” he said, but I shooed him onward.

“It’s fine. It will take me two minutes to jog back there. I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.” He bent down and brushed a kiss against my cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

As I watched him leave, following the stream of students away from the stadium, I gently touched the place where he’d kissed my skin. He’d done it so naturally, so thoughtlessly. Like giving each other such easy kisses was something we always did. I frowned as I watched him walking away, wondering how I felt about the way things had been changing between us. Our friendship had definitely been developing into something new, and I was trying to decide if I wanted it to change more still.

I walked back to the stadium, passing the few stragglers who were still making their way from the game. It seemed that everyone had left quickly tonight, which was hardly surprising given how cold it was.

I jogged up the stairs to my seat, relieved when I found my gloves waiting for me. I picked them up and put them on before making my way back down the steps. Although everyone had now left the stadium, the floodlights still lit the field. I was just about back to the entrance when I noticed someone alone on the grass, kicking balls into the goal at the far end of the field. It only took me a moment to realize it was Noah, and I stopped to watch him.

He seemed angry as he thumped ball after ball into the net as though he still needed to relieve whatever emotions or aggression had caused him to act out during the game. I hated seeing him like this and wondered if he needed someone to talk to. I stepped onto the field before I could stop myself and started walking across the grass toward him. I was probably the last person he wanted to talk to, but I couldn’t just walk away and pretend I hadn’t seen him.

Noah didn’t notice me as I made my way across the field, but when he struck a ball and it cannoned off the frame of the goal, it bounced back and rolled toward me. He turned to jog after it, but he froze, and his eyes widened with surprise when he saw me.

“You shouldn’t be out here, Isobel.” He quickly regained his composure as he collected the ball and turned back toward the goal.

I tucked my hands into my pockets and came to a stop just a few meters from him. “I just wanted to check on you.”

“Well, you didn’t need to bother. I’m fine.”

People who were fine didn’t get into fights on soccer fields, but I didn’t want to say that. Not when he was already so defensive.

“Should you really be out here practicing when you’ve been out of school sick for days?” I asked.

Noah snorted as he placed the ball on the ground. “If you consider being pulled out of school by your grandfather sick, then sure.”

“Wait, you weren’t sick? But Cress said...”

“Cress covered for me. I don’t need everyone in this place knowing my business.”

I could certainly relate to that. Noah’s absence from school was the least of my concerns right now though. “Noah, what happened tonight?” He shook his head, refusing to answer.

“Look, we may not be together anymore, but you know you can talk to me, right?”

He grunted in reply, his eyes focused on the ball as he kicked it toward the goal. He booted it so hard it soared right over the top, disappearing beyond the fence behind the goal. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it from his face in clear frustration.

As his hair moved, it revealed a red mark on his forehead. I gasped when I realized it was a gash. It must have been from the fight because the area around it was still pink and swollen.

“Shit, Noah,” I said, rushing closer. When I reached him, I lifted a hand to his face and pushed his hair aside to get a better look. The cut thankfully looked shallow, but it seemed no one had tended to it because it was still slightly oozing blood.

“What are you doing?” he asked, going completely still under my touch.

I pulled my hand away, aware I might have crossed a line. I also took a step back because I was standing far too close. “That looks like it hurts,” I said, nodding at his wound.

He frowned and touched his forehead. He seemed surprised when he pulled his hand back and saw blood on his fingertips.

“Huh,” he muttered.

“You’re bleeding from your head and 'huh’ is all you’ve got to say?”

He shrugged and wiped his hand on his shorts. “It’s just a cut. I hadn’t even noticed it.”