The bell above the coffee shop door chimed softly as Athena stepped inside, brushing hair out of her face. It was Sunday at 11:59 a.m., and her heart felt like it had been racing since sunrise.
She wasn't wearing red. Not even a hint of Lincoln High. Instead, she wore a soft beige sweater and jeans—normal, neutral. Nothing that would say I'm here with the enemy.
The place was quiet, just the way she liked it: wooden floors, cozy armchairs, the smell of fresh espresso. It had always been her escape from school pressure, practice, and being "the perfect Athena Jacobs."
Now, it was the setting for the riskiest thing she'd ever done.
She spotted him instantly. Mason sat at a small corner table near the window, a cup of coffee in front of him, head turned toward the glass. He looked different out of uniform. Calmer. More human.
And somehow, that made this feel even more dangerous.
He looked up as she approached, and his face broke into that soft, lopsided smile she remembered. "I thought you weren't coming."
Athena slid into the chair across from him. "I almost didn't."
"But you did."
"Yes," she said, voice quieter now. "I did."
They sat in silence for a moment, neither knowing how to start. Without jerseys, without school colors and roaring crowds, they were just two people sitting across from each other, unsure how much of themselves they were allowed to share.
"So," Mason finally said, "what do you drink when you're not leading a cheer squad to victory?"
She arched a brow. "When you're not crushing my school's hopes and dreams?"
He grinned. "Touché."
"Vanilla iced latte. Light on the syrup."
He raised a hand, called over the barista, and ordered it without asking again. Like he'd memorized her from the banquet.
"Do you do this often?" she asked once the barista left.
"Do what?"
"Invite girls from enemy schools on secret coffee dates?"
"No." His answer came easily. "Just the one who kept me awake more nights than I'd like to admit."
That shut her up.
Not because she didn't believe him, but because deep down, she wanted to believe him. And that scared her more than anything else.
Mason leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "Why did you come, Athena?"
She looked at him for a long second. "Because I couldn't stop thinking about you either."
His face softened. "You have no idea how good it is to hear that."
"But this is crazy. You know that, right? If anyone from Lincoln saw us—"
"Same goes for Ridgeway," he said. "But I don't care."
Athena bit her lip. "I do. I care about my team. My squad. My reputation. I've worked hard for it."
"And I'm not trying to take any of that away from you. I just…" he paused, exhaling. "I want to know you, Athena. You, not the cheer captain. Not the girl who's supposed to hate me. Just the girl from that banquet who laughed at my dumb story about getting tackled by my own teammate."
She laughed softly despite herself. "That story was pretty dumb."
"But you smiled."
"I did."
He smiled again, but this time it reached his eyes. The coffee came, and the tension loosened, slowly melting into conversation—real conversation. They talked about everything: movies they liked, their siblings, the pressure of being role models for their schools. He told her how he almost quit football last year. She admitted she sometimes wished she could just be anonymous, just for a day.
Hours passed.
By the time they stepped outside, the sun was already drifting lower in the sky.
"I should go," she said, glancing toward her car.
"Can I walk you there?"
She nodded.
They didn't talk as they walked, but their hands brushed once. She didn't pull away.
When they reached her car, she turned to face him. "We can't tell anyone."
"I know."
"Not your teammates. Not my girls."
"I won't."
"And if we keep doing this…" she hesitated. "We need rules."
He grinned. "You gonna make me sign a contract?"
"I might," she said, smiling despite herself.
"I'll agree to anything if it means I get to see you again."
That earned him a real laugh. Then, suddenly unsure of herself, she looked away.
But Mason gently touched her wrist, grounding her.
"I'll see you next Sunday," he said. "Same time?"
She hesitated—then nodded. "Same time."
And as she drove away, heart racing, one truth sat heavy and thrilling in her chest:
She was falling for her rival.
And it was only just beginning.