“...I know, by instinct, his reserve springs from an aversion to showy displays of feeling—to manifestations of mutual kindliness. He’ll love and hate, equally under cover, and esteem it a species of impertinence to be loved or hated again…”

Lockwood’s description of Heathcliff sat with me as I stared at the page where his introduction resided. He seemed confused, considering he had just met the master of the house, Heathcliff coming off as mysterious yet, in a way, strange. He felt some sort of connection to the man that he could not explain, and narrowed it down to something so simple as ‘instinct’. I looked up from the novel, seeing that the bleachers were much more lively than they usually were, students sitting in small groups watching different sports teams go about their practices. 

My eyes traveled to the field before me, taking in the mass of bodies that were the soccer team and football team, the roar of students flooding my senses as I came back to reality. The sounds of whistles and chatter surrounded me from every direction, the students on the bleachers cheering on their friends, significant others or siblings that had inhabited the field in front of us. I had never seen so many students take an unexpected interest in sports, they seemed to be there like they were waiting for something to happen at that moment. It seemed strange like Lockwood’s ‘instinct’ when it came to his reception of Heathcliff, they were under the assumption that something was not what it seemed. They were drawn to it like sharks to blood in the water. It was a frenzy of bodies, some watching the soccer team practice while the majority of the others kept a close eye on the football team.

Out of the corner of my peripherals I noticed a flash of strawberry blonde hair, I looked out into the field once more, seeing Gage traverse about the field keeping the ball from his teammates. His teammates had furrowed brows as they concentrated on taking the ball from their captain, a mischievous smile filling Gage’s face. His skin glowed underneath the light of the sun above us, an almost olive sheen covering his exposed skin to the masses. Many students seemed fixated on him like I was, their eyes watching his every move, following every movement of his muscles, his every decision. I smirked at their intrigue, my eyes following the adonis that was my ‘best friend’—that term now used loosely as I was still figuring out my feelings towards him. 

Gage looked towards the bleachers, many students cheering him on or catcalling him about his skills, his eyes searching the rows of students. His eyes immediately locked with mine, my body stiffening at the sight of his warm gaze coming into contact with mine. I squirmed in my seat under the weight of his stare, a soft smile flashing across his features making my heart flutter in my chest, my body feeling light yet tethered to my spot on the bleachers. It was frustrating that even with my conflicted feelings towards him, he still had the effect that he did on my body and soul; I felt bewitched. 

Was this love?

Was I a fool for loving him even though he didn’t acknowledge his feelings, or mine for that matter? 

Lastly, what was going to be our endgame?

These questions flooded my head like a stampede of horses, a smile adorning my face towards him as his face lit up with the joy of my acknowledgment of him. With his newfound joy, he swiftly eluded his teammates making his way down the field towards the goal. In the moments of his last stride, his leg pulled back before quickly swinging it forward towards the ball. The soccer ball launched from his cleated foot, barely grazing the glove of the goalie suspended in midair as the ball crashed into the net in the uppermost corner of the goal.

The crowd roared. 

Gage looked back towards the bleachers with a triumphant smile as he winked at me, my face setting itself ablaze. The blush made me look away from him, the book in my hands suddenly becoming interesting at that moment, the students still giving him praise around me. It was unlike me to look away when he did those types of gestures, but my feelings were still very much at the surface, I couldn't take the emotions that came with that wink.  The promise it held felt like it was to be dangled in front of me until I was able to get my answer, the answer that I still impatiently waited for from him. I looked up from my book, seeing that he had become distracted by his teammates as they animatedly talked to him, most likely referring to the goal he had just made. 

I sighed in relief.

The students around me continued to chatter excitedly about Gage, their words rapidly firing back and forth as they talked about his movements to the goal. They spoke of the way he had made it effortless, the smile he held on his face during the whole thing making them believe Gage was a natural. A small grin appeared on my face, their admiration of my best friend made me feel proud that, again, in some way his natural talent mirrored my friendship with him. I had always encouraged Gage to follow what he felt was the correct path when it came to anything he did. When we were freshman, I remember his hesitancy to walk onto the soccer team, that he didn’t believe that he was worthy of being a part of the team.

My ambition, even as a freshman, had fueled me to tell him to follow his gut, to show the world his natural talent for soccer, a talent I had seen the few times I had hung out with the boy. I, before I met Gage, never put energy into people that I knew or didn’t know, he had been the first and the only to see that side of me. A side of me I kept closed off due to my ambition to get out of Brindlewood, an ambition I hoped Gage would follow once we were able to leave. 

A commotion from the other side of the bleachers jarred me from my thoughts, a group of people gathering at the bottom of the steps, their hands gesturing to the field on the other side of where Gage and the soccer team were practicing. Out in the distance, I noticed the football team running their plays for their next big game, their helmets gleaming in the sunlight as they moved in their formations. The sea of white jersey’s that flooded the field where there seemed to be a color that didn’t belong, one that seemed to cause the other students to watch the field intently with captivated interest. 

A lone red jersey. 

The player stood with his back to the crowd of students in front of me, observing the field and watching the other players show off their skills. It looked as if they were trying to intimidate him, flexing some sort of massive ego that usually scared away players of all types from joining our illustrious football team. The player remained unphased as he turned to check his gear, his nonchalant behavior visibly irritating the players on the field. His courage was fascinating to me, it was something uncommon in Brindlewood, something that, if it had been just some scrawny kid, I would have ignored blatantly. But he was different. The confidence he seemed to radiate, even from the field, touched me in ways that I didn’t think were possible. He made me feel like, I too, could do anything I put my mind to, that my dreams were worth fulfilling no matter how big or small

Who was this player?