PART ONE: FIRST LOVE
CHAPTER SIX: Almost, But Not Yet
The week after the Friday night game felt heavier than usual. Lucy couldn't explain why, only that her heart seemed to carry an extra weight whenever she walked the halls of Ridgeway High. She had grown used to seeing John daily, speaking to him under the bleachers, and stealing small moments in between classes. But that week, every glance, every brush of hands, every shared laugh carried an intensity she hadn't anticipated-and it left her both exhilarated and nervous.
John felt it too. He hadn't realized how deeply he cared until the moments became smaller, sharper, and more significant. He caught himself thinking about Lucy constantly-her quiet determination, her sharp sense of humor, the way her eyes glimmered when she was excited about a story or a book or a line of poetry.
It was Wednesday afternoon, and Lucy was waiting for him under the bleachers as usual. The air was cool, filled with the scent of crushed leaves and the faint tang of autumn grass. John jogged toward her, backpack bouncing lightly against his shoulder.
"Hey," he said, breathless from running but grinning as always.
"Hey," Lucy replied, flipping her notebook open.
John leaned back against the support beam, eyes scanning the page with casual interest. "Writing something intense today?" he asked.
Lucy shrugged, cheeks heating slightly. "It's... personal."
He didn't push. He simply smiled, the way he always did when he wanted to make her feel safe.
They fell into their familiar rhythm, talking about school, teachers, homework, and trivial things. But the air felt charged, as if the space under the bleachers had grown smaller, forcing them closer than before. Lucy was hyper-aware of every brush of his sleeve against her arm, every time his knee nudged hers. She felt her pulse quicken, but she pretended to focus on her notebook.
John, too, was struggling with a torrent of unspoken emotions. He wanted to reach out, to close the distance between them, but a small voice in his head warned him not to. Not yet. Not here. Not like this. He wasn't sure why, only that he understood instinctively that some things had to be approached carefully, even if desire screamed otherwise.
After a while, Lucy closed her notebook and leaned back, letting her head rest lightly against the beam. "Do you ever feel like... people don't really see you?" she asked softly, her voice almost lost in the shadows.
John looked at her, studying the way her hair fell across her forehead, the way her lips pressed together in concentration. "All the time," he admitted. "Even people who should... even people who matter. Sometimes I feel like I'm living life through other people's eyes."
Lucy's eyes widened slightly. "Really?"
He nodded. "Yeah. And then... I met you."
Her breath caught. "Me?"
"You make me feel like I'm... just me," he said quietly. "Not the football star. Not the golden boy. Not someone everyone expects me to be. Just... John."
Lucy's heart swelled. She had never been told that she mattered in that way before-not by anyone. Not by teachers, not by friends, not by her parents. And yet, here he was, a boy from a world she barely touched, saying something that felt larger than anything she had ever known.
For a moment, they sat in silence. The distant sounds of the emptying stadium faded into the background, leaving only them and the thrum of their own hearts.
"John..." Lucy began, unsure how to put her feelings into words. "I... I feel the same way. When I'm with you, it's like... I can breathe."
He reached out instinctively, his hand hovering just above hers. She felt the warmth radiating from him, and she wanted-so badly-to close the distance. But for a heartbeat, they both hesitated.
It was unspoken, but understood: this was dangerous. This was new. This was fragile.
John's gaze lingered on her face, searching, hesitant. "Lucy... can I-"
She tilted her head slightly, heart hammering, waiting.
But at that exact moment, the distant laughter of students in the hallway above reached them, snapping the fragile bubble they had created. John pulled back, brushing his hand across his jeans as if to dismiss the intensity of the moment.
Lucy looked down, cheeks flushed, feeling simultaneously relief and disappointment.
"Maybe... maybe later," he said softly, his voice carrying a mix of longing and restraint.
Lucy nodded, understanding. "Yeah. Later."
They talked for a few more minutes, trying to act normal, but the tension lingered in the air, palpable and electrifying. Every glance, every word, every subtle touch seemed charged with unspoken emotions.
When it was time to leave, they walked together toward the street. The cool autumn air brushed against their skin, carrying the scent of damp leaves and distant grills from nearby homes. Their steps were slower than usual, as if neither wanted to end the moment.
"You'll see me tomorrow?" John asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.
Lucy nodded, unable to hide the small, hopeful smile that tugged at her lips. "I'll be here."
As they reached the edge of the field, a voice called out from behind them.
"John! Melinda's looking for you!"
Lucy froze slightly, her stomach sinking. She knew the other girl was already watching, even if she hadn't appeared in person yet. John glanced back, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face, but he didn't immediately respond.
Melinda walked briskly toward them, a confident smile on her face, clearly unaware-or maybe deliberately ignoring-the tension between John and Lucy.
"Hey," Melinda said, leaning casually against a fence post. "You coming to the gym later? A few of us are hanging out."
John hesitated, glancing at Lucy. She could see the unspoken question in his eyes.
"I... I don't think so," he said finally. "Got some homework to finish."
Melinda raised an eyebrow, but didn't press. "Alright... your loss," she said with a smirk, walking away.
Lucy exhaled softly, relief mixing with lingering nerves. "She's... she's persistent," she said quietly.
John chuckled, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "Yeah. But you... you matter more."
Lucy felt her heart skip again, a mix of joy and fear. She wanted to believe him, wanted to trust that under the bleachers was a world separate from Melinda's reach, a space where she could feel safe.
Over the next few days, John continued to navigate this delicate balance. He was attentive to Lucy, finding small moments to be with her, while keeping Melinda and the rest of the school's expectations at bay. It wasn't always easy. Sometimes Melinda's presence was suffocating, her flirtations and proximity a constant reminder of the divide between their worlds.
Yet under the bleachers, they found reprieve.
One afternoon, as the golden light of the setting sun filtered through the gaps in the metal, John finally let himself reach for Lucy's hand.
Her fingers brushed against his, tentative, unsure, but she didn't pull away.
"That's... okay, right?" he asked, looking into her eyes.
Lucy swallowed, heart pounding. "Yeah... it's okay."
Their hands intertwined briefly, fingers lacing together like they had been meant to. The connection was electric, a spark that neither could ignore. But again, they hesitated before leaning closer, aware that rushing could shatter the fragile trust they were building.
"I... I don't want to mess this up," John whispered.
Lucy nodded. "Neither do I."
And so, for now, they stayed on the edge-close enough to feel the heat, the connection, the possibility, but not so close that it could be broken by missteps, jealousy, or the weight of the outside world.
As Lucy walked home that evening, the sky painted in deep oranges and purples, she felt a strange mixture of hope and anxiety. She was falling for John Carter faster than she had expected, and while the feeling was intoxicating, it was also terrifying. First love, she realized, was a delicate thing-beautiful, powerful, but incredibly fragile.
John, too, lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling of his room, replaying every word, every glance, every brush of fingers with Lucy. He had never felt like this before-so connected to someone who seemed so completely different from his world. He knew the path ahead would be complicated, but he also knew that under the bleachers, with Lucy by his side, he had found something he couldn't let go of.
And that night, as autumn winds whispered outside, both of them drifted to sleep with the same unspoken thought:
Almost, but not yet.
Almost love. Almost a kiss. Almost a world where they could be together without fear.
But the outside world was waiting, and soon, almost would have to become real.