Something About You

B

The stadium was nearly empty now, save for a few distant voices of staff finishing their cleanup after the evening training session. The sky above was a deep navy, dotted with stars, and the floodlights bathed the field in a cold, artificial glow. Layla stood alone on the grass, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Her frustration was bubbling over—boiling, in fact—and she needed to let it out.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” she muttered to herself, pacing back and forth. “Why do I act like this every time he's around?”

Her steps were hurried, her heart still racing from earlier. Images of Aaron kept flashing through her mind—the way he smiled that lazy, half-smile, the way his stupid bracelet still dangled on his wrist, and worst of all, the way he’d hugged Alaia. That one hit her the hardest.

“Seriously, what’s your problem, Layla?” she groaned, dragging her hands down her face. “He’s just a guy! A guy with... ridiculous timing and... stupid dimples.” She exhaled sharply.

She kicked a stray water bottle on the ground, sending it tumbling across the grass. “And for the love of everything, why do I get all flustered around him?!” Another kick sent the bottle rolling farther.

“Why do I act like I forgot that he hugged Alaia? Like it didn’t matter.” She gave the bottle one more kick, frustration laced in her voice. “For all I know, she really is his girlfriend.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, and it annoyed her even more. She gritted her teeth. “Get it together, Layla. You’re making this all up in your head. He’s just... Aaron.”

She scuffed her shoe against the ground and sighed heavily, glancing at the bottle she’d been kicking. “He’s totally out of your league anyway.”

Without thinking, she swung her foot back and gave the bottle one last, aggressive kick—only this time, it didn’t just skid harmlessly across the field. The bottle bounced off someone’s leg.

“Shit.” Layla froze.

Standing a few feet away was Alea—the most senior player on the team and someone who was rumored to be incredibly close to Aaron. Alea crossed her arms, one brow arched as she stared at the bottle on the ground, then slowly shifted her gaze to Layla.

Layla’s heart plummeted into her stomach. “Oh no.”

Alea tilted her head slightly, her expression calm but with an undertone of authority that made Layla’s palms sweat. “Did you just kick that at me?”

“Uh…” Layla’s voice cracked. “That… wasn’t intentional?” She offered a nervous smile, which Alea did not return.

Panic surged in Layla’s chest. Crap, crap, crap. Think, Layla. Do something!

She took an instinctive step back, only to collide with something—or someone—solid behind her. She turned quickly, and there he was.

Aaron.

He stood right behind her, his expression unreadable, his hands tucked casually into his pockets.

Layla’s pulse skyrocketed. How long has he been standing there?!

“Having fun?” Aaron asked with a slight smirk, amusement flickering in his eyes.

Layla’s brain short-circuited. She was too stunned by the fact that he had been right there the whole time—watching her kick bottles and rant to herself—to properly respond.

But then she heard Alea shift, as if she was about to approach.

Without thinking, Layla did the first thing that came to mind—she grabbed Aaron’s hand. “Come on!” she whispered urgently, tugging him away from the open field.

Aaron stumbled slightly as she yanked him behind the nearest equipment shed. “B, what the—”

“Shh!” Layla pressed her back against the side of the shed, pulling him close beside her. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears, and she squeezed her eyes shut for a second, hoping Alea wouldn’t follow. '

Aaron leaned closer, his face inches from hers, clearly confused but amused. “Are we... hiding?”

“Yes,” Layla hissed. “Be quiet!” She peeked around the corner of the shed, spotting Alea scanning the field with a mildly curious expression.

Aaron tilted his head, his lips twitching with suppressed laughter. “You do know you could’ve just... walked away, right?”

Layla shot him a glare. “Do you ever stop talking?”

Aaron chuckled quietly, glancing down at their still-intertwined hands. “Didn’t know we were doing secret missions now.”

Layla’s face burned as she realized she was still holding his hand. She let go quickly, shoving both hands into her jacket pockets to avoid fidgeting. “Just... stop being so smug.”

Aaron leaned casually against the shed, his posture relaxed. “So, what exactly are we hiding from? Alea?”

Layla exhaled sharply. “Yes. I—Look, she caught me kicking a bottle, and I panicked, okay?”

Aaron raised a brow. “You panicked... and dragged me along?”

“Yes! I didn’t want her to think I’m some weirdo who talks to herself at night!”

Aaron laughed softly, the sound low and infectious, making Layla’s heart flip in her chest. She hated that it made her feel warm inside.

“You do talk to yourself, though,” he teased, his grin widening.

“Shut up,” she muttered, crossing her arms and avoiding his gaze.

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the air between them charged but oddly soothing. Layla could still feel the lingering warmth of his hand in hers, and it unnerved her more than she cared to admit.

Aaron glanced down at her again, his expression softening. “You know, you didn’t have to run from Alea. She’s not as scary as you think.”

Layla scoffed. “Says the guy who’s apparently best friends with her.”

Aaron shook his head, amused. “She’s not that close to me.”

Layla gave him a skeptical look. “Right. And the whole team just imagines you two are practically inseparable?”

Aaron shrugged, his eyes glinting mischievously. “People see what they want to see.”

Layla rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the wisdom, Confucius.”

Aaron chuckled again, his laughter soft and genuine. For a moment, they just stood there—two people hiding behind a shed in the middle of the night, as if they were kids sneaking away from trouble.

Layla glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, her heart still racing but for entirely different reasons now. There was something about him—something infuriatingly complicated and yet disarmingly simple at the same time.

And as much as she wanted to keep her distance, she knew it was already too late for that.

Aaron nudged her shoulder lightly. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before Alea comes looking for us.”

Layla sighed, pushing off the shed and following him back toward the field. As they walked side by side, she couldn’t help but wonder if Aaron had any idea how much space he occupied in her head.

Somehow, she doubted it.

As they stepped out from behind the shed, the field lay eerily silent under the floodlights. The cool night air brushed against Layla’s skin, and the distant hum of the city was the only sound filling the space. She glanced around—just as she feared, the field was completely empty now.

No Alea. No staff. No one.

She exhaled, feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment swirl in her chest. Her heart was still pounding from the adrenaline of hiding—and from the way Aaron’s hand felt so natural in hers.

Aaron, walking ahead of her, hadn’t let go. His fingers remained wrapped gently around hers, as if it were the most casual thing in the world. Layla, on the other hand, was hyper-aware of every second that passed. Each step made her thoughts swirl even faster, weighing down her movements until her legs felt like they were stuck in quicksand.

Her breathing became uneven. The warmth of his palm against hers felt far too intimate, far too confusing for her muddled emotions.

Why hadn’t he let go?

“Aaron…” she started softly, unsure where she was going with her words. But Aaron, still holding her hand, glanced over his shoulder at her.

“What is it, B?” he asked.

There it was again. That name.

Layla’s footsteps faltered, and she came to a complete stop. She blinked, frozen in place as his voice echoed in her head. B. The nickname, so familiar yet so confusing, hit her like a tidal wave. It wasn’t just a word—it carried weight. It felt personal. It made her feel seen in a way she wasn’t ready for.

She stared at him, her heart pounding against her ribcage. She wanted to ask—Why? Why did he keep calling her that? Did it mean something? Was it a habit? A joke? Or... something more?

The words sat heavy on the tip of her tongue. But she couldn’t bring herself to say them.

Aaron turned fully toward her now, his brows furrowing slightly as he noticed her hesitation. “What’s wrong?”

Layla swallowed hard, her throat tight with unsaid questions. “I…”

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. The weight of her emotions—her confusion, her frustration, her fear—was too much to unravel in one moment. She couldn’t do it. Not now.

Aaron tilted his head, still holding her hand with a quiet patience that made it harder for her to breathe. His thumb absentmindedly grazed the back of her hand, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

Say something, her mind screamed. Ask him! But the words wouldn’t come. They were lodged in her chest, stuck behind the walls she’d spent so long building.

Finally, she exhaled sharply, forcing the tension out of her body the only way she knew how—by retreating.

“I…” she muttered, pulling her hand from his grasp. “I need to go home. Now.”

Aaron blinked, clearly taken aback by her sudden shift in tone. “B—”

“No, really,” she cut him off, her voice sharp and unsteady. “I have to go.”

Aaron stood still for a moment, his brows knitting together in concern. He didn’t try to stop her. He didn’t call her name. He just watched as she turned around and walked away, leaving him standing alone on the empty field.

Every step away from him felt heavier than the last, but she kept moving, forcing herself forward, even as her heart begged her to stop.

Because if she stayed, she knew she wouldn’t be able to resist asking the question she feared the most. Why, Aaron? Why do you call me that? And worse, she wasn’t sure she was ready to hear the answer.

As Layla walked toward the exit, a creeping realization began to settle in her chest like a knot she couldn’t untangle. Why did she even follow him earlier? Sure, Aaron had been the one holding her hand, but... why did she let him? Why did she keep walking alongside him as if it made sense to be there—when it clearly didn’t?

She huffed under her breath, frustration bubbling to the surface. What am I even doing here? she thought bitterly. Her steps slowed, and she clenched her jaw, feeling ridiculous. I’m such an i***t. What was the point of following him, holding onto something she shouldn’t, when it was obvious Alaia was the one waiting for Aaron?

And right on cue, Alaia appeared near the exit, her face lighting up when she saw them. “Aaron!” Alaia called out warmly, her voice carrying an easy familiarity that twisted something deep in Layla’s gut.

“Layla!” Alaia greeted cheerfully as she approached, her eyes bright and welcoming. There wasn’t an ounce of malice in her smile—it was the kind of friendliness that made it impossible to dislike her. “Heading home too? Do you want to come with us? We can drop you off.”

Layla shook her head quickly, forcing a polite smile to her lips. “Oh, no, thank you,” she said, keeping her voice steady even though her heart raced. “I’m still waiting for Sarah. I’ll just head back with her.”

She wasn’t sure where that lie came from, but it tumbled out effortlessly. It was safer to say she had plans, rather than admit she’d been walking with Aaron for no real reason other than her own stupidity.

“Alright,” Alaia nodded with a small chuckle. “Let me know if you change your mind, okay?”

Just as Layla was about to excuse herself and leave, Alaia’s gaze drifted downward—and landed on their hands. Or rather, where their hands had been only a moment ago. For a split second, Aaron’s thumb still rested near his palm, as if it had been curled around something. Around Layla’s hand.

The brightness in Alaia’s smile flickered, almost imperceptibly. Her lips pressed together for a heartbeat, her expression softening into something unreadable—like a forced understanding she wasn’t sure she wanted to have. Then, just as quickly, she recovered, her usual kindness slipping back into place like a well-worn mask.

“That’s sweet,” Alaia murmured, though her smile this time was thinner, quieter. Almost... hollow.

Layla’s chest tightened at the sight, guilt and confusion churning inside her. It was unbearable. She had to get out of here—now.

Before Aaron or Alaia could say anything else, Layla stepped forward abruptly. “I’ll head off now,” she blurted, her voice sharper than she intended. “Nice seeing you both.”

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and walked away, her pulse hammering in her ears. She didn’t look back. She couldn’t. Not at Aaron, not at Alaia, and definitely not at whatever unspoken thing lingered between them.

Her footsteps echoed against the empty halls of the stadium, each step heavier than the last, as if leaving them behind was the hardest thing she had done in a long, long time.

As Layla walked through the quiet hallways of the stadium, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on her, she almost jumped in relief when she spotted Sarah near the exit. Sarah had her bag slung over one shoulder, looking ready to head home. Perfect timing. Layla picked up her pace and caught up to her, tugging lightly on Sarah’s arm.

"Sarah!" Layla called, breathless. "Hey, can you give me a ride home?"

Sarah raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. "Oh, now you need me? Where’s Mr. Football Star?"

Layla groaned, rubbing her temples. "Please don’t start. Just… I need a ride. I’ll explain in the car."

Sarah rolled her eyes in mock annoyance, but a knowing smirk tugged at her lips. "Uh-huh. I saw what happened back there, by the way. That little love triangle scene between you, Aaron, and Alaia? It felt straight out of a rom-com. Seriously, all you guys were missing was a dramatic soundtrack."

Layla buried her face in her hands, groaning louder this time. "God, Sarah, not helping!"

They pushed through the exit doors, and Sarah clicked her car key, unlocking the doors with a beep. She tossed her bag into the backseat, shaking her head with a grin that said she was way too entertained by all of this.

"You’re a mess, Layla," Sarah teased, climbing into the driver’s seat. "But you know what? This is good material. Maybe I should write a screenplay." She winked.

Layla threw her bag into the passenger seat and shot Sarah a glare as she slid in. "Can you not?"

Sarah laughed, starting the engine. "Relax. I got you."

As they drove off, the city lights flashing past the windows, Sarah leaned her arm casually against the steering wheel. "Honestly, though… That whole scene earlier? Chef’s kiss. Aaron holding your hand, Alaia’s awkward smile—classic."

Layla winced, sinking deeper into her seat. "I was not holding his hand. He was holding mine. Big difference."

Sarah gave her a sideways glance, eyes sparkling with amusement. "Sure, sure. And you totally hated it, right?"

Layla opened her mouth to protest, but no words came out. Instead, she slumped back with a defeated sigh.

Sarah chuckled knowingly. "Look, Layla, all I’m saying is: if Aaron’s really into Alaia, why does he keep dragging you into the picture? And why do you keep letting him?"

Layla clenched her jaw, staring out the window as buildings blurred past. "I don’t let him—" she started, but her voice faltered halfway through.

Sarah hummed, as if she knew exactly what Layla was struggling to say. "Right," she muttered, the corner of her mouth twitching in a smirk. "Anyway, I’ll get you home. But next time, maybe try not to get caught in a soap opera, okay?"

Layla exhaled through her nose, half-annoyed and half-grateful. "I hate you," she mumbled, though there was no real bite behind it.

Sarah laughed, shifting gears as they turned onto a quieter street. "No, you don’t."

And she was right. As annoying as Sarah could be, at least she made Layla feel less alone in this whole confusing mess.