Every Little Thing

Setting Things in Motion?

The week flew by—both painfully fast and agonizingly slow. How that's even possible, I couldn't tell you, but it's the only way I can describe it.

Most of the conversation all week centered around homecoming, the game, and the dance. Well, Amy and Lily mostly talked about the dance. They buzzed about decorations, dress fittings, and how the cheer squad oversaw setting up the gym. Thank the Gods for a large squad, or the football team would've had to pitch in. Not that I'd personally mind helping, but the rest of the team? Absolute drama queens. Sophomore year proved that. You'd think we were being sentenced to hard labor the way they whined.

The girls really leaned into the theme days as well. There was a back to the 60's day, and they took it seriously. Poodle squirts, pink lady jackets. It was adorable, honestly. The only day I got into was Zombie Day. I went all out. Ripped clothes, makeup, fake blood. It was fun. Jace and I stalked the halls, making zombie noises between classes.

What threw me was the number of girls eyeing me like I was a piece of meat and stopping to talk to me at random. Jace kept telling me that Lily was starting to look pissed when it happened, but every time I looked over at her, she would smile and wink at me.

Did big idiot grins happen? Yes. Did I think Jace was on something again? Absolutely.

Now it was Friday morning, and the whole school was buzzing with excitement. Jace, Kole, and I stood near the lockers waiting for the girls, same as we had the first day of school—and pretty much every day since. We wore our home jerseys—like we always did on game days—but today had a different kind of energy. Being homecoming, there was a tradition I'd never actually taken part in... until now.

The double doors swung open, and the cheerleaders made their grand entrance. Every one of them was decked out in their uniforms, faces bright with school colors—mostly gold and blue eyeshadow. My eyes immediately found Lily.

And just like that, I forgot how to breathe.

Her hair was tied back off her face, soft gold liner framing those unreal hazel-green eyes. The blue eyeshadow made them pop in a way that should probably be illegal. I had to force myself not to stare—or grin like an idiot.

"Hey, stud," she teased, nudging my arm.

"Was that a Grease reference? Still on the whole 60's theme?" I asked, raising an eyebrow, ignoring the way Jace and Amy were practically glued together beside us.

"Maybe," she said with a laugh, adjusting the strap of her backpack. "Was it bad?"

I rolled my eyes, trying not to smile. "I'll give you an A for effort."

She smiled wider. "You ready for the big tradition?" I questioned

"Oh, totally. Well... I might be. If someone would tell me what the hell it actually is." Her light laugh followed as she started walking toward her locker.

I shrugged, catching up with her while glancing back at Jace and Amy, who trailed behind. "It's sort of a football thing. Certain people don't find out ahead of time, so it doesn't ruin the surprise."

"That's dumb. You know I hate surprises," she chuckled, shooting me a sideways glance as she spun the dial on her locker.

Her fingers froze as she opened it. Confusion crossed her face for a beat before her eyes lit up, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Slowly, she reached in and pulled out a navy-blue jersey—my away jersey. My number, 14, and my last name stretched boldly across the back.

She traced her fingers across the name, her smile softening slightly. The look in her eyes, I couldn't place it, but it made me a bit nervous.

My heart thudded once, hard. I had never let anyone wear that jersey... not once.

"Caleb... you're giving me this to wear?" she asked, lifting it carefully like it was fragile.

"Only if you want to."

"Of course I do!" she squeaked, practically launching herself at me.

I laughed as I caught her, holding her tight before setting her gently back on her feet. My face hurt from smiling so hard.

"This is the tradition," Jace chimed in, grinning. "The players give their away jersey to the person they're closest to for the day of the homecoming game. This is actually the first year Caleb's played along."

Lily's eyes flicked to mine. "Wait—really?"

I wanted to smack Jace.

"Uh... yeah," I said with a shrug, trying to seem casual as I leaned against the lockers.

That unreadable expression crossed her face again—soft, thoughtful. But then Amy clapped her hands.

"Well? What are you waiting for, girl? Put it on!"

Giggling, Lily pulled the jersey over her head, being careful not to mess up her hair. She was swimming in it. I suppose that happens when there's about a foot height difference between us.

"Gods, you look like a toddler," I teased as I stepped behind her.

"Don't be an ass," she laughed, shaking her head while I tied the back of the jersey to cinch it a little. I tucked the extra fabric up neatly.

"It's my default setting," I said, stepping back to admire my handiwork.

"Remember when Jace first gave me his to wear?" Amy asked, already rocking his jersey.

I glanced over, chuckling. "Hard to forget. Dude was sweating bullets that entire week."

"Was not!" Jace protested, but the grin on his face gave him away.

"Right. How many times did you ask me if I thought she'd actually wear it?" I asked, smirking.

"No clue what you're talking about," he shot back, mirroring my expression.

"I think it's cute how nervous you used to be," Amy said, kissing his cheek.

That stupid grin came back full force, his neck turning red.

Then Lily looked at me—something warm and soft behind her smile.

"Ready to tackle this half day?" I asked, nodding toward our classroom.

Her answering smile lit up her whole face.
And just like that, the doubt crept in.
What if I ruin everything?
But I pushed it down.
Yeah... tonight I was going to tell her. I'd decided sometime last week that I couldn't keep holding back.

Seeing her in my jersey today was just step one—building the courage to finally say the words I've wanted to say since she came back.

Now all I had to do was not fall apart.