PART ONE: FIRST LOVE
CHAPTER THREE: Under the Bleachers
Lucy never planned to become part of John Carter's world.
It just happened quietly, the way most dangerous things do.
By the middle of October, their conversations had become routine in the most unexpected ways. It started with small moments-John dropping into the empty seat beside her in English class, asking to borrow a pen he didn't need, walking just a little slower so they could talk between buildings. Nothing dramatic. Nothing that screamed romance. But Lucy felt the shift all the same.
She felt it in the way her mornings became lighter.
In the way she started paying attention to her reflection a little longer than usual. In the way her notebooks slowly filled with stories that looked a lot like him, even when she tried to pretend they didn't.
One afternoon after school, Lucy lingered in the hallway longer than necessary, pretending to organize her books. She knew football practice was ending soon. She didn't know why she was waiting-only that she hoped, quietly, that John might appear.
"Lucy."
She turned, startled.
John stood a few feet away, backpack slung over one shoulder, sweat darkening the collar of his shirt. His hair was slightly damp, his usual confidence softened by exhaustion.
"Hey," she said, her voice gentle.
"You heading home?" he asked.
"Yeah."
He hesitated, then nodded toward the back of the school. "Wanna sit for a bit? It's loud everywhere else."
Lucy followed him without asking questions.
They ended up under the bleachers, where the noise from the field faded into a distant echo. The space smelled like dust and grass, shadows stretching long across the concrete. Lucy had never been there before-not like this, not with someone like him.
John sat down first, stretching his legs out in front of him. Lucy hesitated, then sat a careful distance away.
"Is this your secret hideout?" she asked lightly.
He smiled. "Something like that. I come here when I want to disappear for a minute."
Lucy nodded. She understood that more than he knew.
They sat in comfortable silence at first. Lucy wasn't used to silence that didn't feel heavy. This one felt calm, like the world had paused just for them.
"You're always writing," John said suddenly. "What do you write about?"
Lucy tensed instinctively. "Stuff."
He laughed softly. "That's not an answer."
She sighed. "People. Feelings. Things that don't always get said out loud."
John leaned back against the metal beam above him. "Sounds deep."
She shrugged. "It's easier than talking."
"Yeah," he said quietly. "I get that."
Lucy looked at him then, really looked at him. The golden boy image didn't quite fit here, in the shadows, away from the noise. He looked younger. More human.
"Everyone thinks you have it all figured out," she said before she could stop herself.
John scoffed. "They're wrong."
Her heart skipped. "How?"
He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's like... everyone already decided who I'm supposed to be. And if I don't follow that, I'm disappointing someone."
Lucy listened, her chest tightening.
"They don't ask what I want," he continued. "They just assume."
Lucy smiled sadly. "I think people do that a lot."
John glanced at her. "What about you? What do they assume about you?"
She swallowed. "That I'm quiet because I don't have anything to say."
He shook his head. "That's stupid."
She laughed softly. "Yeah. It is."
Something shifted then-something fragile and real. Lucy felt it settle between them like an unspoken agreement.
From that day on, under the bleachers became their place.
They met there after school, sometimes just for ten minutes, sometimes for an hour. They talked about everything and nothing-music, teachers, dreams they didn't usually say out loud. Lucy told him about her parents, about watching them work themselves into exhaustion. John told her about the pressure, the expectations, the fear of failing publicly.
No one interrupted them there. No labels followed them. It was just Lucy and John.
At school, people started noticing.
"You and Carter been getting close?" a girl asked Lucy one afternoon, her tone sharp with curiosity.
Lucy shook her head quickly. "We're just friends."
The words felt safe. Necessary.
Melinda noticed too.
She watched from across the cafeteria, eyes narrowed slightly as John laughed at something Lucy said. Melinda had always assumed John would end up with someone like her-someone confident, visible, obvious.
Lucy was none of those things.
And that made her dangerous.
One Friday afternoon, John found Lucy already waiting under the bleachers, sitting cross-legged with her notebook open.
"Writing again?" he teased.
She smiled. "Always."
He sat beside her, closer than usual. Lucy felt the warmth of him immediately, her breath catching without her permission.
"Can I read something?" he asked.
Her heart raced. "I don't think so."
"Why not?"
"Because it's personal."
John nodded. "I won't judge."
She studied his face, then slowly turned the notebook toward him.
He read silently, his expression unreadable. Lucy watched him anxiously, wishing she could snatch the pages back.
When he finished, he looked up at her, eyes softer than she had ever seen them.
"That was... really good," he said quietly.
Lucy's throat tightened. "You don't have to say that."
"I know. I want to."
Something in her cracked open then-something she had kept tightly guarded for years.
"Thank you," she whispered.
The moment stretched. John's gaze lingered on her face, then drifted to her lips. Lucy felt her pulse hammer in her ears.
She leaned forward before she could think.
And then she stopped.
They both did.
John pulled back slightly, breath unsteady. "We should... probably not."
Lucy nodded, embarrassed but relieved. "Yeah."
They sat there, hearts racing, pretending nothing had happened.
But everything had.
As Lucy walked home that evening, she felt lighter than she had in years. Hope bloomed quietly in her chest, fragile and dangerous.
She didn't know it yet, but under those bleachers-hidden from the world-Lucy had begun falling in love.
And love, she would soon learn, doesn't stay hidden for long.