Archive of Our Own ^beta

The moment the football team rips through the paper banner and onto the field, Sam can feel that something is going to happen. Something in the air, like a storm on the horizon. And she feels on edge.

With every touchdown scored, every tackle crunching into the grass, the electricity seems to grow, crackling under her skin. And when the fourth quarter is set in motion, green and red fighting for dominance of the ball, with the fate of the team resting on the star quarterback, Sam feels the snap.

“Carter,” she blurts out, “I thought I could handle this—but I really can’t.” She feels close to crying, even as the cheers around her only grow stronger.

He’s been enjoying himself the whole night, cheering until he’s hoarse, and she’s never seen him have this much fun since they were kids. So there’s a pang of regret when Carter looks at her with an expression of dawning realization, mouth opening to say something.

But she doesn’t let him say anything. Sam jerks up out of her seat and flees out of the stadium. How she wishes she hears footsteps, a voice calling her name.

But no one comes.

In another world, there is a disturbance down on the field and Austin Ames comes running up the bleachers after her. He would catch her arm and beg for her forgiveness, blue eyes desperate even as the rest of his team shouts after him. And she would feel that bloom of happiness, knowing he would willingly give up his dreams for her.

And someone does come after her. But the hand on her shoulder is as familiar as her old sneakers, much loved but not what she wants. She doesn’t look at him but her hand curls over his where its rests on her arm. It’s Carter who always comforts her, and it’s Carter who walks with her out of the stadium and into the parking lot.

The game’s finally into the fourth quarter and everyone’s inside to watch North Valley’s Homecoming triumph, leaving the area abandoned. Sam feels that emptiness.

She looks at her best friend, wonders why he’s left his seat to chase her down when the game’s not nearly finished. (why he’s still here) But she doesn’t ask.

Drops darken the hot asphalt under the parking lot’s lights. Rain, for the first time in months. It should feel like a miracle, but it’s a reflection of something left unfinished inside. Behind them the stadium echoes with cheers and whistles, the muffled sounds of the pep band. But she bites her lip and stares out into the darkness, resolutely ignoring the ache left behind.

She wasn’t good enough for him.

It’s truly raining now and they both crane their necks to look up at the night sky washed a rusty black with light pollution. Carter’s glasses are swiftly spattered and his grey shirt is now black but they don’t move. He doesn’t make any attempt to intrude in her thoughts, for which she’s glad.

And she’s glad for the rain too, because it hides the tears she knows are there. (Carter knows it too)

She hadn’t expected Austin to give up everything for her, but she just wanted—she’s not sure. Ever since she was nine she’s known exactly what she wanted in life. She had Princeton, that fixed star by which she charted her life. And once she met Austin, it had started to shift a little, to welcome the idea of another person with which to share that life. But now—no Princeton, no Austin, no North Stars to guide her. An ugly sound escapes her and she covered her mouth with a soaked sleeve. Her hair is plastered to her face and despite everything, she just wants to be home.

Carter’s voice is soft when he finally breaks the silence, using his damp jacket sleeve to scrub the tears from her cheeks. “He never deserved you.”

She gives a hiccupy laugh, wishing she was anywhere but here since it means she has the whole drive home to think about her failures. The dark road ahead of her feels like more than a metaphor. “Guess I was never really cut out for that kind of life, anyway.”

She tips forward and Carter’s hugging her tightly.

Sam can pretend the arms around her are Austin’s, but that’s a rain dream: useless and disappointing. Carter’s no jock prince but he’s better than any fairy godmother. He doesn’t disappear when the clock strikes midnight and all she’s left with are rags and a smashed pumpkin. He’s the one who makes sure she gets home safe and warm, carriage or no.

But she says none of this, merely leans against him and lets it all out.

Warm rain patters around them, the asphalt shimmering and glittering in the parking lot lights. There’s the distant sound of cheers and the brassy sound of the marching band. But they’re no longer a part of that world.

They draw apart finally and Sam rakes her soaking hair out of her eyes. She feels lighter than before, barely. She reluctantly glances up to meet Carter’s eyes, worried behind his dripping glasses. “You good?”

She nods once, sharply. She is. She’s seventeen, nearly eighteen. It’s not as though this will be her last heartbreak.

His hand slips into hers like they’re seven years old again, their parents telling them it’s safer to cross the road if they’re together. “C’mon. I’ll drive you home.”

Sam feels another sob threaten to cut through her but she catches it, her jaw hardening. She’s a big girl, she’s had so many disappointments all her life. This is just one more. Her fingers twine just a little tighter through his and she can feel that he understands what she’s not saying. “Thank you, Carter.”