The spring wind danced through our hair and on our skin.

I did it.

I asked him.

Conor kept my hands in his as he looked at two seagulls flying over the school building. They seemed close and far away at the same time. Just like Conor somehow.

Now all I can do is wait and see what his answer will be.

“There is something I want to tell you before I answer your question.”

The seagulls flew around each other as if they were playing some sort of game humans will never understand. We both followed their path as they set toward the other end of the field, uttering raucous calls at each other as something else moving underneath them drew my attention.

Someone was walking down the sideline.

Shit. I knew that someone must have noticed we were there. And, of course, this person had to interrupt us at the one moment when I didn’t want to be interrupted.

“Do you know who that is?” Conor asked.

Concerned about being caught, we slid away from each other.

I squinted to see the woman moving toward the white wooden shed at the end of the field more clearly. As she spotted us, too, she waved in a familiar way, and that’s when I noticed.

“That’s Mrs. Damaris! Our coach.”

I raised my hand to signal that we had noticed her too. She corrected her direction toward us. When she was close to the buildings, her unusual red sweater hid her well, but now with only the green green grass and deep blue skies, she stood out. And this was the first time I saw her wearing her brown, shoulder-long hair open.

“She is your coach?” Conor asked, his voice sincerely surprised.

“Yeah, why?”

“I… never mind.” He shook his head as if he had some form of revelation.

“She’s all right,” I softly said to Conor, walking a couple of steps toward her. It might be good that if anyone found us here, it was her. When I got into that heated discussion with Damian about whether or not we should keep on bugging this short blond sophomore nerd a couple of weeks ago, she was the one to step between us. But instead of just sending us to detention, she actually talked to me and Damian, trying to find out what was happening. And even though we both didn’t confess anything (I couldn’t just snitch on Damian, no matter how much I hated all of this), we could reason with her.

“Why are you here, coach?” I yelled at her as she was still about fifty feet away, more to find out if she heard the ruckus we made earlier and if this could be biting me in the ass later.

“You know that we teachers sometimes have to work during the smaller breaks, don’t you?”

“I hadn’t really thought about that until now,” I replied.

“The better question is: What are you doing here, Blakely?” She yelled over the field and raised her arms wide open as if she was either baffled about meeting us or wanted to welcome us like a late-night show host. ”It’s still almost half a year until the next season!”

“Sorry to just barge in, Coach. My… friend stays at my place over the week and, for some reason, had the urge to see my school.”

Oh, how I would have liked to say ‘boyfriend.’ But he hasn’t given me an answer yet. And thanks to Mrs. Damaris, it will probably be quite a while until I get one.

She arrived before us, scrutinizing Conor and me.

“Is he telling the truth?” She pointed at me while scanning Conor’s reaction. Oh no. That’s one of her specialty moves, which she also uses in class and training. This way, she found out quite often if someone was lying because the other person had way more trouble hiding that. I still remember how much easier it was to keep things hidden from her when I figured this out and told Damian. But Conor didn’t know about it! Good thing I didn’t lie.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he replied. “He told me so much about how amazing this place ought to be and how top-notch the football team is. I just wanted to see it with my own eyes.”

Mrs. Damaris’ head was slightly pushed back by what Conor said. She opened her mouth wide as if she was surprised that I like to attend this school. I can’t blame her, though, because of all the grumpiness she got to experience from me over the years.

“Well, he’s one of the most capable quarterbacks I've ever trained. So,” she fixed her eyes on me, “I’m glad to hear you like it here as well, Blakely.” Her eyes moved back to Conor. “But why not come and see him play during the season?”

“Oh, because I live in LA. But I used to live here until the end of middle school.”

“Yeah, imagine that,” I added. “He was a linebacker on our middle school team and, dare I say, a pretty talented one. Gave that up in high school to join the theater group!”

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me!” Mrs. Damaris replied, and all of us had to laugh about that. “Because with a sprint like yours, you would be an invaluable asset to any team!”

The laughter instantly decreased. Conor and I glanced at each other, having finally confirmed that she had spotted us earlier.

“No need to hide it, boys. You were so loud I would have noticed it from outer space. So what were you thinking about doing when you opened that door?”

“Sorry, Mrs. Damaris,” I said, now thinking about how not to get into trouble for this.

“It was my fault,” Conor intervened. "I was so eager to see the school from the inside, to figure out if I wanted to transfer here when we move back in the summer.”

I froze for a second and then turned toward Conor as fast as possible.

What was he talking about? Moving back in the summer? Transferring? Is he for real? Or is he that good of an actor?

“And when I found that door unlocked, I was just tempted. But Ash actually held me back, so please don’t punish him.”

Her eyes wandered between the two of us. I have to be careful now. She is doing that thing again: searching for my reaction to see if he is telling the truth! I bit my tongue to focus on something other than what Conor had just told her, so she couldn’t read my facial expression that easily. And since her eyes wandered back to Conor, it seemed it was working.

“You think about transferring here?” she interrogated Conor.

“Yes.”

She peeked at me again, but I was more focused on Conor because I couldn’t tell if he was telling the truth or not. And somehow, I wanted to believe that it was the truth. That there really might be a chance he would move back here in the summer, even though it was so unlikely.

“And if you did that, would you… consider trying out for the football team?”

I bit my tongue harder, even though it seemed she had given up on reading my expressions. It was almost as if she was mesmerized by Conor for some reason. What is going on?

“Oh, for sure! I haven’t played in a while, but I miss being on the field!”

I felt as if we had caught ourselves in a web of lies that might prove difficult to get out of.  Conor won’t move here. He won’t try out for the team. And… why was she asking that in the first place?

“I’m tempted to believe you, Mr. … I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name.”

“Um… Conor. Hart,” he said, and for a short moment, I thought he was about to tell her a fake name.

“How’s your strength, Mr. Hart? Are you proficient at tackling?”

“I never played tackle football, Ma’am.”

“Ugh,” her shoulder sank as if she was now out of her teacher mode and a normal human being. "I guess you had one of those trainers in middle school, didn’t you?” She made a face as if she was friends with Conor now. He played along and laughed. “I always say it’s better to start practicing tackling football at least at twelve, so you can learn to defend yourself. But no. Not before the age of fourteen. Bone structure, blah blah blah. Well, you wouldn’t be the first one I would have to push through a tackling crash course!”

She searched for the white shed behind her. That’s where we kept all the training equipment, and I could see a little spark in her eyes. She seemed so interested in Conor that it almost appeared like she couldn’t wait to start practicing it with him.

“Why are you asking all these questions? Don’t we have one of the best linebackers in Damian?”

“None of your business, Blakely,” she grunted without taking her eyes off Conor.

“Do you still wanna have a quick look inside?” She asked him as if they were best friends now. “Asher can show you around as long as you both promise not to do anything stupid.”

“Are you serious?” I asked, still not grasping how Conor could charm her in such a short amount of time.

“That would be awesome,” Conor replied.

“If it helps to get you to enroll here, I think a few minutes won’t hurt. But just to be clear,” she turned back to me again, “If you guys do something dumb, I’ll make sure you will never play a game of anything again as long as you’re a student at this school,” she laughed. But I knew that she was absolutely able to do that. “And as for you, Mr. Conor Hart,” she turned back to him, “you’d better be trying out for the team.”

“I promise.”

Mrs. Damaris nonchalantly pointed over her shoulder.

“Well, boys. I have to head to the shed now and inspect our equipment if I don’t want to upset my spouse by being late home again. You already know which door is open. And I’ll meet you there in ten minutes to lock back up.”

I searched for Conor, and he nodded wildly. Without waiting for an answer, Mrs. Damaris turned around and walked to the shed.

“Thank you so much,” Conor called after her as we ran over the field toward the doors.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Mrs. Damaris yelled over the field. It didn't stop us from gaining more speed so we could use those ten minutes to their full potential.

Needless to say, the idea of having the school for ourselves was more exciting than I initially thought.

We ran across the court and met eyes, joined by smiles. I looked behind me to ensure Mrs. Damaris couldn't hear what I was about to say to Conor.

“Okay, we have to talk about what happened there. You’re not an actor! You’re a straight-up supervillain!”

“Supervillain? Maybe. But I’m certainly not straight.”

We shoved the double door open together, revealing a hall with blue lockers and classrooms to the left and right.

“If we go straight to the end of that corridor, we end up in the main hall that leads up to the auditorium. Or we could head to the cafeteria on our right. Upstairs are more classrooms, but I don’t know how interesting they will be. Although the art department has quite a few rooms that might interest you!”

My head ran through all the options, and I tried to figure out what would be the most exciting. I didn’t notice that Conor was staring at me until he said my name.

“Ash?”

“Yeah?”

A tremor went through my spine as his eyes pierced me because I couldn’t tell what was happening in his head.

“I know I still owe you an answer.” He looked at the floor and then up at me. “But I need to tell you something before—"

“It’s okay,” I interrupted him, “We can roam the halls first.” And I think I said that because the further we got away from the moment when I asked him if he wanted to be my boyfriend, the more my anxiety grew that he might be saying no. Because, if it would have been a yes, he could have just said that, couldn’t he? And as long as I didn’t have an answer, I could at least hope. On the other hand, he’s still here. We’re still going on with our date. If he had wanted to say 'no,' he wouldn't have gone through all that hassle with Coach, would he?  Or does he want to tell me something so I don’t take his ‘no’ too badly? Ugh. Focus!

“Anything you’d like to see in particular?”

“Your locker,” he answered in a flash.

“We went through all that trouble to get in here, and you only want to see my locker?”

He smirked while shrugging.

“Maybe I just wanna know what dirty little secrets you hide in there.”

I shook my head. I’ve come this far. I might as well go further. If he wants to see my locker, he can do so.

“Okay, then. Let’s get going.”

I led him through the corridor, and about halfway in, we could hear the back entrance closing. It’s wild how much more present sounds like these are when there’s no one else around. Pushing the left door open, I stepped inside. The staircase behind it was spacious, and brown brick stones dominated the walls. Big windows floor to ceiling let it feel bright despite the lights being turned off.

We headed to the second floor and into another corridor with more blue lockers. I turned around the corner to the left and pointed to the one you would call ‘my’ locker.

“This is it.”

“Open it.”

“There is nothing interesting in there besides some books and folders!”

“Just do it!”

I exhaled deeply as not knowing why Conor wanted to see this got a bit on my nerves. But I complied. I turned the small black knob until we heard a little click, and the door flew open.

“Have fun,” I said, walking to the side so I wouldn’t be in his way. But he didn’t move a muscle. He just kept staring at me, still smirking.

“Pretend you’re looking for your books. As if you were late for class.”

“Is this some kind of acting lesson?”

“Please?”

I sighed and looked into my locker, and several books stared back at me. Conor sprinted down the hall, but before I could turn my head, he said, “Keep going.”

This is so dumb. Why does he want to do that? Where is he going now? This is definitely not how I pictured my spring break.

I reached into the locker and said with my most obnoxious voice, “Oh, no… I am… so late—for class.”

With a loud WHUMP, he threw his left shoulder into the locker next to me, his arm raised as if he was James Dean leaning on a door. I laughed hard when I saw his eyes lustily staring at me.

With his most resounding voice, he said, “Hey, babe. I have a special class you have to attend first.” He grabs my hand and twirls me around, shoving my back into the locker. He leans over me, his face only an inch away from me.

This wasn’t what I expected at all. But it’s hard to deny that it was somehow intriguing.

“Sorry,” he whispered, “This was a secret fantasy of mine for so long. And I wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else than you.”

He kissed me deeply, and the thought of doing this during class was intensely addictive. I rushed my arms around him, and before I knew it, his fingers found a way under my shirt, slowly feeling my chest.

This felt strange, risky, almost forbidden. Oh, man!

He leaned his forehead on mine to give our lips a short break. Our breaths melted into each other.

His mouth still dangerously close to mine, he whispered, “Ash?”

“Yeah?” I whispered back, even quieter.

“Thanks for taking me here.”

Our mouths found each other again for a minute before he pulled his hand back and rested his head on my chest, leaning into me like he sought shelter from the world.

I held him tight as if this would be the last time I would hold him.

“And thank you for asking me if I want to be your boyfriend. But…”

This simple word ’but’ sent a shiver down my spine.

“…I want to be entirely honest with you."