“I didn’t peg you for a sports kind of person,” Isla muttered, glancing at the field before looking at Carmen again.
“Just here to show my support.” Carmen smiled. “Won’t say I’m a diehard fan.”
Isla hummed in acknowledgement and looked away again, staring at the field—or maybe nothing in particular.
Carmen’s eyes, however, remained fixed on the girl’s face, finding it hard to recognise her as the same person she met more than half a year ago.
“You’ve gotten a haircut,” Carmen said softly, repeating the very first words she’d spoken to Isla around seven months back. Without really registering what she was doing, Carmen lifted her hand and grazed her fingers across one of the uneven locks that fell just above Isla’s right cheekbone.
Blue eyes flashed to her own ones again.
“What?” Isla blinked, a little startled.
“Your hair.” Carmen gestured with her free hand towards Isla’s shaggy strands. “It’s different now. Did you cut it yourself?”
This time, the smile that Isla offered was genuine, and yet, sadder than when she’d been staring longingly at the cheer team she’d once captained.
“You noticed,” Isla mumbled, but it sounded like she was speaking to herself more than she was addressing Carmen.
“You noticed”. Those were the exact words Isla had responded with back then too.
Something nagged at the back of Carmen’s mind—but it was a wisp of smoke, floating around aimlessly, something she couldn’t quite grasp to make sense of right now.
“Yeah.” Carmen shrugged. “Falls around your face differently.”
Recognition flickered in Isla’s eyes; she was recalling their first ever conversation, too.
Isla’s smiled widened the slightest bit. “Makes my cheekbones more prominent?” she joked, repeating Carmen’s comment about her haircut back then.
Carmen let out a short laugh, but didn’t say anything as her eyes roamed over the platinum blonde mane that was cut in uneven lengths, no longer flowing below Isla’s shoulders but stopping just past her pointed chin. It didn’t make Isla’s cheekbones look more prominent, it made Isla look…messy.
“It was nice running into you,” Isla said after a few minutes, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. “I’ll s—” Her eyes fell on what Carmen was wearing, and they flashed with surprise before going back to being impassive.
Carmen looked down at herself, forgetting for a moment what would be so extraordinary about her clothes when she suddenly remembered she was wearing the jersey.
“Past few months have really been about huge changes, huh?” Isla mused, eyes fixed on the lettering of the jersey.
“I guess.” Carmen shrugged, not knowing what else to say. Hunter’s name wasn’t printed on the front, but she had a feeling Isla knew whose number she was wearing anyway.
Isla opened her mouth, raised her eyes to Carmen’s, dropped her gaze back to the Vikings printed on the front of the dark material, then met her eyes once again. “I hope he doesn’t let you down,” Isla finally said, her voice sounding oddly thick with emotion.
Carmen blinked, obviously taken aback. There was probably a thousand things she could’ve said in return. Instead she just smiled softly and said, “I hope so too.”
Isla’s eyes grew glassy, and she tore her gaze away, tilting her head back and looking at the starless sky. Carmen looked up at it, too.
It must have been raining heavily somewhere else, because there was a flash of lightning in the distance. Then they heard the low rumble of thunder.
“You’re a good person, Carmen West.” Isla sighed heavily, a ghost of a smile on her lips.
Carmen’s eyes left the sky and found the side of Isla’s face.
“So are you, Isla Martin.”
Another beat of silence passed, and Isla shook her head before turning to face Carmen. “Let me walk you to the bleachers,” she offered before frowning slightly. “You should’ve gone to get the drinks with a friend or two. It’s not the best idea walking alone in this crowd here. The guys from this school don’t have the best reputation, you know.”
Carmen waved her off. “It’s all right, really. I can—”
“It’s not all right,” Isla said patiently. “You’re wearing the jersey of the opposing team’s captain. Not the smartest idea, Carmen.”
Carmen didn’t argue any further, allowing Isla to escort her back to the bleachers and leave her side only once she’d seen Joyce and Willa seated a few rows above.
•••
There was still a few minutes for halftime to be over, so it was still nearly impossible for Carmen to push her way through the groups of people chatting excitedly in between rows of seats, moving from one corner of the bleachers to the other in order to greet their friends.
Carmen was just a few feet away from reaching Joyce when she got sandwiched between the backs of two students who obviously didn’t care about making room for people to walk through as they remained standing instead of settling in their seats.
Gritting her teeth in frustration, she was about to ask one of them to move when an eerily familiar hand grabbed a hold of hers and pulled her forward, away from the suffocating position she was stuck in.
Carmen didn’t have to look to know who it was; she’d recognise the feel of his calloused palm and firm fingertips wrapping around the skin of her wrist anytime, anywhere.
In any version of an alternate reality, she’d know his touch, his warmth. She’d know the sudden unsteady beats of her heart, the knot in her stomach as if all the butterflies had gathered right in the centre of it. She’d know him.
It felt like another eternity in which she steadied herself and dared to meet his eyes.
And, there they were. Liquidised gold.
Carmen’s heart skipped a beat.
It took copious amounts of willpower to suppress the giddy smile that was threatening to take over her
