The office of the Sports Journalism department smelled like old paper and cold coffee. Audrey sat on the edge of a plastic chair, gripping her bag.
Mrs. Higgins tapped her desk with a silver pen. "Audrey, you’ve landed the premier assignment for the semester. You’ll be covering the Westbridge football team. You’ll handle the media day interviews, the match recaps, and the behind-the-scenes profiles."
Audrey’s face went pale. "Is there... another team? Maybe the chess club? Or the track team?"
Mrs. Higgins smiled. "No. The football team generates the most readership. Besides, you already have excellent access."
Audrey felt a headache forming behind her eyes. Excellent access. She knew exactly what that meant. She was going to be living in the football team’s shadow for the next four months.
By the time Audrey made it to the athletic center for her first day, the place was a zoo. A media coordinator was scurrying around, trying to arrange the giant players for promotional photos.
"Captain, where’s your girlfriend?" one of the photographers shouted. "We need her for the campus life promo shot!"
Audrey opened her mouth to say, I’m not his girlfriend, but Coach Miller boomed over the crowd.
"Ellis is shadowing the team for the internship this semester anyway. She’ll be around. Let her do her job."
The team cheered, and suddenly, Audrey wasn’t just a random student. She was the media girl. It was a weird shift. Players who used to ignore her were now asking if their match kits looked clean or if their hair was too messy for the camera.
"You’re a natural, aren’t you?"
Audrey turned. A guy with a messy mop of brown hair and a heavy camera strapped around his neck was leaning against the bleachers.
"I’m Ben," he said, holding out a hand, though he was frantically patting his pockets with his other hand. "Third-year journalism. Higgins told me I’m mentoring you this semester. Have you seen a black lens cap? I swear I had it five seconds ago."
Audrey relaxed instantly, shaking his hand. "Audrey. And thank god. I have no idea how to handle these guys. And your lens cap is in your front pocket."
Ben looked down, pulled out the cap, and sighed in relief. "You’re already doing better than me. It’s easy, though. Just treat them like golden retrievers. Give them a compliment, show them a shiny object, and they’ll do whatever you want."
They spent the next hour breaking down match stats. Ben was actually funny. He completely botched the pronunciation of half the tactical setups, calling a high press a high stress, but he somehow knew more about the opposing team’s historical stats than the coaching staff. It was the first time Audrey felt like she was actually doing journalism instead of just dodging campus rumors.
Mason walked into the media room, glanced around once... and immediately changed direction toward Audrey.
He walked over, his shadow falling across the table where she and Ben were laughing at a botched clearance on the screen.
"Audrey," he said.
She looked up, her smile still lingering. "Hmm?"
"Coach was looking for you a minute ago."
She frowned, closing her notebook. "He was? I just talked to him five minutes ago."
Mason shrugged. "I don’t know. He’s at the front."
Audrey stood up, grabbing her bag. "Okay. Sorry, Ben. I’ll catch up with you later."
Ben waved a hand, already looking for his lens cap again. "No worries. We’ll go over the interview schedule tomorrow."
Audrey walked out into the busy hallway and navigated her way to the front desk. Coach Miller was standing by the tactical board, arguing with an assistant coach about training times.
"Coach?" Audrey asked. "You needed me?"
Coach Miller stopped talking. He looked at her, entirely confused. "Ellis? Why are you here? I already talked to you."
"But Mason said..."
Audrey turned around. Mason had wandered out into the hallway behind her, a water bottle in his hand.
Mason blinked. He looked from Coach Miller to Audrey. A genuine frown creased his forehead. "...Didn’t I hear someone say your name?"
"No," Coach Miller grunted. "Get back to the locker room, Calloway. Your hearing is going."
Mason looked completely baffled. He wasn’t lying. He actually thought he had heard it. He rubbed the back of his neck, muttered an apology to Coach, and walked away.
Audrey stood there, feeling a weird, prickling sensation in her stomach.
Ten minutes later, training was officially starting. Audrey stood near the touchline with her clipboard, trying to organize her interview questions.
A few feet away, Mason was talking to another girl, some student from the spirit club. He was doing that thing where he leaned in, listened like she was the only person in the world, and gave her his full, undivided attention.
Then, mid-sentence, his eyes drifted across the pitch.
Audrey was standing near the touchline, struggling to uncap a stubborn pen.
His attention snagged for a split second. His face went completely blank.
"Sorry," Mason said to the girl. "I’ll catch you later."
He cut the conversation short, leaving the girl looking highly disappointed, and walked straight toward the pitch.
He really is like this with everyone, Audrey thought. He just... moves on when he’s done.
As he walked past Audrey, he reached out, snatched the pen right out of her hand, and kept walking without breaking his stride.
"Calloway!" Audrey shouted. "That’s my pen!"
"Borrowing!" he yelled back, not looking over his shoulder.
"You didn’t ask!"
Audrey looked down at her empty hand.
"...He’s unbelievable."
Audrey watched him jog onto the grass. He was arrogant, he was oblivious, and he was the most confusing person she had ever met.
Two hours later, training was winding down. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the pitch.
Coach Miller dragged a tactical whiteboard out to the halfway line to go over a botched defensive set piece. The exhausted players gathered around in a massive, sweaty semi-circle.
"Alright, look here," Coach Miller barked, tapping the blank board. "Calloway, hand me a marker."
Mason, standing in the front row, reached absently into the pocket of his training shorts. He pulled something out and handed it forward.
Coach Miller stared at it.
The entire front row of the defenders fell dead silent.
It was not a thick black dry-erase marker.
It was a very slim, very bright blue gel pen with a tiny plastic daisy on the cap.
Coach Miller looked from the pen...
...to Mason...
...and back to the pen.
"Calloway," Coach Miller said slowly.
"Yes, Coach?"
"Unless this daisy writes defensive formations, I suggest you find me a marker."
Mason stared at the daisy.
Leo, standing right next to him, slowly turned his head. "Captain."
Mason didn’t move.
"Captain," Leo repeated, his voice laced with pure, unfiltered amusement. "Why do you have Audrey’s pen?"
Mason blinked. He looked at the tiny plastic flower, then looked across the pitch to where Audrey was packing up her camera gear.
"...I borrowed it," Mason finally said.
Leo raised an eyebrow. "For what?"
Mason opened his mouth. He closed it. He stared at the gel pen again.
"...I don’t know."
Mason looked genuinely confused.
He couldn’t remember taking it.
He also couldn’t remember why he hadn’t given it back.
Leo slowly looked toward Audrey across the pitch.
Then back at Mason.
"...You’re in trouble."
Mason frowned. "For borrowing a pen?"
Leo sighed. "No. For being you."
Coach Miller pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Calloway."
"Yes, Coach?"
"Give Ellis her flower pen back before you forget you stole that too."