Desperate Times, Bookish Measures

by alysnpc

Summary:

Alex is a rising gridball star with a lie that spiraled: he told the press he had a small-town girlfriend. He didn’t expect to come home and catch his actual girlfriend cheating on him with a redheaded artist. He also didn’t expect Penny—quiet, bookish Penny—to step in and pretend to be his girlfriend when two reporters showed up.

Now they’re fake-dating for the media. Penny lives in a trailer and doesn’t understand why someone like Alex would choose her, even just for pretend. Alex is trying not to fall for someone who looks at him like he's more than just muscle and a gridball jersey.

Chapter 1: Late Spring

Notes:

Content Warning: it includes cheating (but just this time okay!)

The stadium lights were still fading behind him when Alex sat down for the post-game interview. His sweat-slick hair was pushed back beneath his cap, strands curling at the edges, cheeks still flushed from the final sprint that won the match. The crowd was gone, but the adrenaline buzz hadn’t left him yet.

A mic hovered near his jaw. “Another two goals tonight, Alex. That makes twenty this season. How do you stay focused?”

Alex shrugged, a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I just think about home. My girlfriend, actually. Everything I do out here is for her.”

The reporter chuckled. “Ah, the mystery girlfriend. When are you finally going to let the spotlight meet your famous sweetheart?”

Alex rubbed the back of his neck, glancing down, trying to look sheepish instead of full-on panicked. “She’s from a small town,” he said carefully. “She’s not ready for... all this. I wanna protect that a little longer.”

“Next season, maybe?”

He looked up, flashed a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Next game. I’ll show the world.”

[---]

The bus ride back to Pelican Town was quiet, just the rumble of tires on cracked asphalt and the bass of his headphones. Alex leaned his head against the window, watching the blur of fields and dusty roads pass by. His playlist pulsed low—beats heavy enough to drown his thoughts. Kanye. Drake. A little Kendrick. The stuff that used to hype him up in locker rooms, back when he needed noise louder than the fear.

Now, it just filled space.

He tugged his hoodie tighter and let the music vibrate in his chest. Home was close.

When the bus finally hissed to a stop near the old tunnel on the edge of town, Alex stood and slung his duffel over his shoulder. The air hit him warm and green—late spring, thick with the smell of cut grass, turned soil, and the sweet blossoms drooping off the wild trees. Birdsong cut through the quiet hum of the countryside, and a soft breeze tugged at his sleeves.

He took a deep breath and held it for a moment, letting it anchor him.

He was home.

The walk from the bus stop took about fifteen minutes downhill, sneakers crunching against gravel, the weight of his bag slung across his back and the late sun casting gold over the rooftops. He passed the hospital, the Saloon just coming into view on the right, and the Mayor’s house tucked neatly across the square. Familiar things. Familiar paths.

When he reached the little blue house tucked beneath the slope, Alex paused at the gate for a moment; just long enough to let the air settle in his chest. Then he looked to the right, toward the small fenced-in square where a familiar shape stirred.

“Dusty,” he called gently.

A giant gray-brown head lifted from the old doghouse, ears perking up. The Great Dane lumbered out with a huff, tail already thumping against the wooden slats. Despite his age, he moved like a puppy when he saw Alex: shoulders swaying, tongue lolling, eyes bright with recognition.

“Hey, champ,” Alex said, grinning as he crouched down. He dropped his duffel outside the gate and let Dusty lean all his weight into his chest. “Missed you too, big guy.”

Dusty let out a happy groan as Alex scratched behind his ears, rubbing that soft spot beneath his collar. His fur smelled faintly of sunshine and dry grass.

“You been taking care of them, huh?” Alex murmured. “Keeping Gran company in the garden? Scaring off rogue squirrels?”

Dusty barked once, low and content, before flopping onto his side with a dramatic grunt.

Alex laughed quietly, gave him one last scratch, then rose and picked up his bag. “Good boy. I’ll see you after lunch.”

He turned back to the porch, climbing the two shallow steps and pressing his palm against the doorframe. The hinges gave a soft creak as he eased the door open.

“Gran?” he called softly, stepping inside. “Grandpa?”

Evelyn turned from the kitchen, her hand still holding a ladle dripping with stew. Her eyes widened.

“Alex!” she gasped, nearly dropping it. “Oh my goodness, you’re here!”

He grinned and dropped his duffel with a thud, wrapping her in a careful but warm hug. She smelled like cloves and garden soil, like she always had.

“You said next week,” she murmured, hugging him tight. “We weren’t expecting you ‘til Friday.”

“Figured I’d come to surprise you.”

From the living room, George looked up from his recliner, eyebrows lifting. “Well I’ll be damned,” he muttered, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “Look at you. Star athlete back from the battlefield.”

Alex walked over and bent down slightly to clasp his grandfather’s hand—strong, dry, familiar.

“Good to see you too, old man.”

George gave his hand a squeeze. “We saw the game. That final goal? Perfect placement. You’ve still got it.”

“Thanks,” Alex said, throat tight around the simple word.

They had lunch at the kitchen table—stew this time, not chicken, but still hearty. Evelyn fussed over how thin he’d gotten. George kept poking fun at the way Alex kept checking his phone, like someone was waiting to hear from him.

Alex just smiled and said nothing.

After lunch, he ducked upstairs to his room, dropped his duffel on the floor, and sat heavily on his bed. The same posters were still taped to the walls, a little faded now—his high school team photo, a folded-up banner from the summer tournament. And on the bookshelf, right where he always left it, was a photo of his mom.

He picked it up, thumbing the corner gently. Her smile hadn’t changed.

“Hi, Mom,” he whispered. “I miss you. Hope you're playing catch with Rusty up there.”

He kissed the glass, rested it back in its place, then stood to brush his teeth, shower, and pull on a clean shirt. Haley would want to see him looking good. They hadn’t texted much this week, but he figured she was just busy—she always got caught up in photoshoots or planning her summer trip ideas.

They’d been together since they were sixteen. Six years. She knew him better than anyone.

(...)

Haley lived in a cozy house by the river. Her sister, Emily, was locking the door when Alex jogged up the path.

“Oh, hey!” Emily said, stuffing her keys into her bag. “You're back! Haley’s inside—probably reading that trashy fashion magazine with the glossy perfume samples. I’m late for my shift, but come inside!”

Alex nodded, smiling. “Will do.”

The house smelled like cinnamon candles and hairspray. His heart ticking fast—not from nerves. From excitement. From comfort. From homecoming.

He heard the faint sound of something playing—maybe a movie, maybe music. A low laugh.

Alex pushed open Haley’s door, already smiling.

The smile died on his lips.

Haley was on the bed. Her golden hair was a mess across the pillow. Her face was flushed, mouth parted—

And Leah was between her legs.

“—what the fu—?”

The words slipped out before his brain caught up.

Haley and Leah both flinched at the sound of his voice.

The room was quiet, except for the hum of the laptop on the dresser. Haley sat up, pulling the bedsheets with her. Her cheeks were flushed, but not with embarrassment. Leah didn’t look at him—just grabbed her shirt off the floor, cheeks red, shoulders stiff.

Alex’s gaze flicked away fast. Haley cleared her throat. She didn’t even look guilty.

“Alex,” she said, calmly. “We should talk.”

She closed her eyes. Took a deep breath. Sat straighter. There was a finality in her posture, like a script she had rehearsed a hundred times.

“We should break up.”

The silence fell hard.

Alex stood there, still half inside the doorway, hand on the knob. He opened his mouth. Nothing came out. Closed it again.

His mind went somewhere else. Somewhere far away.

He remembered the times she looked... bothered when they were together. The way her eyes wandered when he kissed her neck. The way she sometimes pulled away when he touched her like he thought she’d want him to.

The way she used to ask, while staring at other women across the bar, "Do you think she’s hot?"
And how he’d shrug, say "I guess?"
And she’d smile—kind of—and say, "It’s okay if you do. She is."

He remembered when they watched Jennifer’s Body and Imagine Me & You back-to-back. Haley had rented them from that tiny movie shelf at the general store, saying they looked fun.

She was mesmerized. Couldn’t stop talking about how powerful they were, how deep. She said Jennifer’s Body was misunderstood and Imagine Me & You was “actually kinda perfect.”

Alex didn’t get it at the time. He thought she just liked edgy stuff, or that she was in a rom-com phase. But looking back... maybe he should’ve noticed something.

Maybe it wasn’t just about the movies.

He thought about how they started dating at sixteen, and how, back then, it just made sense. He was the golden boy, she was the popular girl. He’d walked her home after a party one night, nervous, palms sweating, and she had stood on her porch staring at him like he was some science project.
"You gonna kiss me or what?" she asked.

It wasn’t a bad kiss. He remembered thinking, Damn. I’m the luckiest guy alive.

He remembered texting her, waiting hours for her to reply. Sometimes days. He thought that was just Haley being Haley—detached, aloof. Mysterious.

Now, it felt more like... apathy.

He thought of that one wedding she photographed—two women from out of town. Haley had come home buzzing with energy, talking about how one was a CEO and the other was her intern, how they fell in love and defied everyone, how beautiful they were, how cool they were. She wouldn’t shut up about them for hours. She didn’t even know them, but she seemed obsessed.

At the time, he figured it was just a fun break from boring engagement shoots. There weren’t a lot of queer people in Pelican Town. At least, not openly. Small towns didn’t make space for that. He was pretty sure Sebastian dated Sam for a while, quietly. But Haley?

He had never thought to question it. Not until now.

Did the way she avoided intimacy mean something? The way she sometimes looked at him like... she was trying to feel something she couldn’t?

Was she...?

It hit him slow, like watching something heavy slide off a table in slow motion.

Maybe it had always been there. He just didn’t see it. Or didn’t want to.

He blinked. Swallowed.

Then, after what felt like hours, he finally spoke.

“I guess... good for you?” He winced at how it sounded, then added, more awkwardly, “Uh—Leah, sorry—I can see your, um... breasts.”

Leah made a noise that might’ve been a laugh or a groan.

Alex stepped backward out of the room, out of the house, the door clicking shut behind him like the end of a chapter.

He didn’t cry. Didn’t scream. Didn’t throw anything.

He just walked.

Down the road. Past the Saloon. No destination, just motion. The kind of walk you take when you don’t know who you are anymore. The kind of walk that says if I stop, it’ll catch up to me.

The sky was soft and bruised with early dusk. His shadow stretched behind him. The town probably didn’t know yet. 

And it was enough to make him feel utterly, stupidly alone.

(...)

The house was quiet when Alex got back, just the soft clatter of Evelyn washing dishes and the low hum of the TV in the living room. George glanced up from his recliner, one brow raised beneath his glasses.

"How was Haley?" he asked.

Alex blinked. Just for a second. Then he smiled, easy and practiced. “Wasn’t home. Might’ve gone out with Emily or something.”

Evelyn called from the kitchen, “You should bring her by tomorrow if she’s free! I’ll bake something sweet.”

Alex nodded, already halfway to the stairs. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

He closed the door to his room behind him and leaned against it, pressing his back to the wood until it stopped feeling like it was caving in. The late afternoon light slanted through the curtains, and the air smelled faintly like laundry detergent and dust.

He looked over at the bookshelf. Still the same. Still untouched.

He crossed the room and picked up the photo of his mother.

“Hi, Mom,” he whispered.

His thumb brushed the edge of the frame. Her smile felt softer now than it had earlier—like she already knew.

“So,” he muttered, sinking onto the bed, still staring at her face, “Haley dumped me. She’s gay.”

The words came out flat. Not bitter. Just... there.

“She said we should break up like she was ordering lunch. Like it wasn’t a big deal. And I just stood there. Like an idiot.”

He closed his eyes.

“When I got signed, she said she was happy. Said we could make the distance work. I told her she could move in with me, that we could live somewhere big and exciting. Be that couple. I even said she could enjoy the perks—press passes, VIP stuff, whatever she wanted.”

He laughed, but it sounded hollow.

“She said she wasn’t ready to be known. Didn’t want fans to know who she was. Said she needed time.”

He looked at the picture again.

“I thought she was scared of the pressure. That she wanted privacy. I was trying to respect that.”

A beat passed.

“But now I think... maybe she was just waiting for a way out. Or maybe she never really wanted in.”

His throat tightened.

“What should I do, Mom? Was it me? Should I have noticed? Should I be different?”

The room stayed silent.

Then, from the shelf, something shifted.

With a dull thud, a paperback tumbled onto the floor near his feet.

Alex stared at it.

He leaned down. The Picture of Dorian Gray.

He huffed through his nose. “Okay. Was that... a sign?”

He looked up at the rest of the books. Dusty spines. Hard covers. Paperbacks with cracked edges. He couldn’t remember reading any of them. Maybe one or two in high school. Some had belonged to his mom. Some were gifts he never opened. Some, he honestly had no clue where they came from.

They felt out of place in his room. Like relics. Or ghosts.

“Maybe someone else would get more out of these,” he said aloud. “Would that be okay?”

He watched the shelf.

Another book tipped forward slightly. Pride and Prejudice. Didn’t fall, but shifted. Enough.

Alex gave a small, sad smile. “Got it.”

(...)

It didn’t take much. One box was enough. He didn’t own that many. Just enough to weigh down his arms and make the walk to the museum library slightly annoying.

Gunther was just locking up when he arrived.

“Whoa there,” the middle-aged man muttered, nearly dropping his keys. “It’s five minutes ‘til closing, Alex. Don’t you athletes have dinner plans or something?”

“I brought books,” Alex said, setting the box down. “For donation.”

Gunther peered inside. His eyes actually lit up. “Well, damn—I mean, well done. Thank you.” He sifted through them, pulling out a few worn titles and nodding. “These’ll be great for the community shelf. But we’ve got enough Jane Austen here to resurrect her. You can keep Emma and Persuasion.”

Alex shrugged. “Sure.”

He tucked the two books under his arm and left just as Gunther flipped the sign to CLOSED. The sky had gone watercolor-soft, that in-between haze of early evening where everything felt gentle. The air smelled like rain that hadn't arrived yet.

He was halfway down the steps when he saw them.

Two people, standing just outside the old café. One with a microphone, the other adjusting a heavy camera. City types. Polished. Tall. Out of place.

Journalists.

His stomach dropped.

No— fuck.

They saw him almost instantly, and the one with the mic perked up like a bloodhound.

“Alex!” she called, smiling. “Perfect timing! We’re doing a quick feature—Alex from the Valley! Your fans want to see where you came from. Meet your small-town muse. Got a minute?”

He backed up a step. “Uh... actually...”

“You mentioned a girlfriend last interview,” she pressed. “Said she was from here. Is she around? We’d love to get a glimpse of the girl who’s captured the heart of the league’s rising star.”

His heart thudded. He couldn't tell them. Not that he was single. Not that he was a joke. Not that she left him for someone else.

He opened his mouth, ready to say something, anything. And that’s when he saw her.

Penny.

Walking slowly down the path, head tilted slightly, red hair tied in two messy buns, books clutched to her chest. She wore that thoughtful, quiet look she always had—like she lived two inches to the left of reality. Her skirt swayed with each step. She hadn’t seen him yet.

He acted without thinking.

“She’s actually right there,” Alex said suddenly, voice loud, hand gesturing.

The reporter turned.

Alex walked quickly, straight up to Penny.

She blinked at him in surprise. “Alex?”

He leaned in, pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, and whispered, “Please, please, play along, okay?”

Then he turned back to the reporter with a bright, camera-ready smile.

“This is Penny,” he said. “My girlfriend.”

Notes:

okay, i know the way Haley and Leah got together is kinda messed up.
but my friend (and beta reader) Gab said something about how it reminded her of 'Imagine Me & You', and honestly… she had a point.
some love stories start in the wrong place, and that’s okay.

(and also, i live for the drama. hope you do too.)

ps: i'm on twitter !! so in case you want to talk about stardew headcanons or anything else lets be friends <3
(sometimes i talk about my fics there)

Chapter 2: Early Summer

“You can hold my hand, but no kissing unless someone’s watching,” Penny said, not looking up from her textbook.

The words were flat, like she was talking about historical dates or the photosynthesis process.

Alex blinked. “Right. Got it.”

It was the first day of summer. Technically a new season, but it felt more like the aftershock of the lie he told yesterday.

Penny had been... surprisingly amazing. When the journalist shoved a mic toward her, she didn’t flinch. She smiled, nodded along, dodged every personal question with the grace of someone who’d practiced for this kind of nonsense in front of a mirror.

When had you fallen in love? Penny giggled and said, “Well, he’s hard not to love, isn’t he?”

How was your first date? She tilted her head thoughtfully and said, “It was warm out. I remember that.”

What’s Alex like when you’re alone with him? Penny gave a knowing, amused smile and shrugged. “Nice.”

She had even clutched the two leftover books— Emma and Persuasion —to her chest like they were a late Valentine’s gift. Her cheeks flushed pink and everything. Alex had almost believed it himself.

She was sweet. Too sweet. She shouldn’t have said yes.

Now they were at the museum, which doubled as the library. Penny was tutoring Jas, while Alex pretended to be there by accident.

Except he wasn’t.

He sat on the opposite side of the table while Penny helped Jas finish a quiz. He didn’t understand most of it, but he tried to pay attention anyway.

Penny was patient and soft-spoken, her finger tracing over the margins of the worksheet as Jas chewed on her pencil and nodded slowly. Alex didn’t know what dialectical materialism had to do with anything, but he caught the words and held onto them.

Later, while Jas was distracted drawing cats in the margins, he whispered across the table.

“I looked up what dialectical materialism means,” he muttered. “Sorta.”

Penny didn’t look impressed. But she didn’t make fun of him either.

She just smiled. “Mm. Progress.”

They started whispering rules between homework review and vocabulary checks.

“No s-e-x,” Penny said clearly, still not looking at him.

Alex choked on air. “Of course not! I’m not— that’s not why I’m doing this!”

“Just making sure,” she said with a small sigh, flipping a page. “I’ve read a lot of books like this. I know how it ends.”

Alex frowned. “Right…”

He had no idea what she meant.

She underlined a sentence for Jas to review, then glanced sideways at him again. “Look, I just need this to stay simple. No drama. I’m not great with attention.”

“I get that,” he said quickly. “I’m not asking for anything weird, I swear.”

“Okay.”

He paused, leaning closer.

“I just need this for a while, okay? Like… maybe until next season? Then we can figure out a way to break up. Something casual. Nothing messy.”

Penny gave him a careful look. “You promised people they’d meet your girlfriend.”

He nodded.

“And telling the truth is not an option because…?”

Alex’s gaze drifted to Jas, who was now drawing a lopsided sun with a smiley face.

He could say it. He should say it. Haley dumped me. For Leah. That’s all it would take.

But the words stuck to the roof of his mouth.

“Not now,” he mumbled. “Not with… the kid here.”

Penny nodded once, like she understood more than she let on. She went back to flipping pages.

Alex sat quietly, watching her work.

He didn’t say it out loud, but something in his chest settled a little.

Penny was calm. Steady. Smart.

And, apparently, terrifyingly good at pretending to be someone’s girlfriend.

Too good.

As Jas scribbled her last answer and dotted the “i” in important with a tiny flower, Penny closed the workbook with a gentle clap.

“Alright,” she said. “Time to get you back to Marnie’s.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Alex offered, already standing.

Penny looked up, surprised.

He extended a hand to her.

She hesitated. But before she could answer, Jas bounced up and grabbed his other hand. “Miss Penny,” she said cheerfully, “no need to be shy!”

Penny chuckled, cheeks pink. With a soft sigh of surrender, she laced her fingers through his.

They walked down the museum steps together, the late afternoon sun warm on their backs.

“So,” Alex said as they strolled toward the path south of town, “what’s your favorite color?”

“Lavender!” Jas announced before Penny could answer.

Alex laughed. “Really? That’s sweet. How about yours, Penny?”

Penny bit her lip. The question was simple, but she didn’t answer right away. She just looked ahead, eyes distant.

Alex tilted his head. Why the hesitation?

To fill the quiet, he pointed to a little patch of flat earth near the bridge. “Right there,” he told Jas, “I used to sell ice cream in high school. Every summer. Five years ago, maybe?”

Jas wrinkled her nose. “I was three.”

Alex laughed. “Dang, I’m old.”

“Why don’t you sell them anymore?”

“‘Cause I got a big job,” Alex said, puffing his chest a little. “I play sports for a living now.”

“My Uncle Shane watches your games,” Jas said seriously. “He says he was just like you when he was your age.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. Highly doubt that, he thought—but he smiled anyway. “Tell him thanks. I mean it.”

“Maybe you can sell ice cream again,” Jas said, skipping ahead. “Now that you’re on vacation.”

“Maybe I will.”

The rest of the walk was filled with giggles from Penny, Jas’s endless stream of questions, and Alex trying to keep up with all of them.

“Would you give my uncle an autograph?”

“Sure.”

“Do you miss your dog?”

“Yeah. He’s the best.”

“What’s it like in the big city?”

“Loud. Fast. Expensive.”

“Can I meet your dog next time we hang out?”

“Definitely.”

“Do you read books too?”

Alex glanced at Penny. “Starting to.”

“Were you good at school?”

“...Define good.”

“Do you like cows or chickens more?”

“I—uh—”

But they’d already arrived at Marnie’s ranch.

Jas let go of both their hands and threw her arms around them one at a time. “Thanks, Miss Penny! Bye, Mr. Alex!”

She ran inside, calling for Shane and asking if he had any paper for autographs.

Marnie opened the door just as she vanished inside. “Oh—hi, Penny! Alex. Welcome back to the Valley!”

“Thanks,” Alex said.

Marnie handed Penny a folded bill for tutoring and grinned. “Heard you two are dating now.”

Alex rubbed the back of his neck, but Penny gave a polite smile. “So it seems.”

“Well,” Marnie said, clearly amused, “congratulations.”

As she went back inside, Alex turned to Penny. “Hey. I can walk you home. Or... maybe you could come over for dinner? My gran made stew, I think. You should come, you know. Now that we’re... dating.”

Penny didn’t answer right away. Her eyes flicked down the path toward the trailer—probably toward canned soup and a flickering lamp. Then to the path back into town, where warm light probably spilled from his grandparents’ kitchen.

She nodded. “Okay.”

They started walking.

A few steps in, she spoke softly.

“Aquamarine.”

Alex blinked. “Excuse me?”

“My favorite color,” she said. “Probably.”

He looked at her, a smile pulling at his mouth.

“Good choice.”

(...)

Dinner smelled like home.

Evelyn had made a hearty stew—rich with carrots, potatoes, and something her handwritten recipe called “a pinch of love.” The four of them sat around the small kitchen table, plates warm and napkins tucked in.

“I never liked that blond girl,” George muttered, stirring slowly. “She had those judgmental eyes.”

Alex blinked. Penny stilled, spoon hovering just above her bowl.

“Now, now, dear, don’t say that,” Evelyn chided gently, patting her husband’s arm. She turned to Alex. “We are sorry that you two broke up, sweetie. Was that what you were trying to talk to her about yesterday?”

Alex froze for a moment.

“I, uh... yes,” he said, carefully. “We just wanted different things.”

Or maybe we wanted the same thing, he thought, bitterly. Just... not from each other.

“And Penny, dear,” Evelyn continued, her voice light but curious, “how long have you and Alex been, uh...” She paused, clearly trying to conjure whatever term the youth were using these days. “Going out?”

“You moved on pretty fast,” George added bluntly.

Alex watched Evelyn elbow him sharply beneath the table.

“We should probably just eat,” she said quickly, smiling so warmly at Penny it almost erased the awkwardness. “Is the food good, dear?”

Penny smiled back, the same practiced ease she’d worn with the journalists. “It’s the best. Thank you so much for having me.”

The conversation shifted. George told a story about the time Alex fell face-first into a mud puddle chasing Dusty. Evelyn asked Penny if she liked rhubarb jam and would she like a jar to take home. It wasn’t long before everyone’s bowls were empty and the sound of spoons gave way to the faint hum of the TV in the next room.

“I’ll get the dishes,” Alex said, already gathering them up.

Evelyn waved a hand. “We’ll be in the living room if you kids want to chat.”

They disappeared, leaving Alex and Penny alone in the warm, quiet kitchen. The sink water ran. Soap bubbled.

Penny leaned her elbows on the counter, voice low.

“So. About the truth.”

Alex turned his head slightly. He knew it was coming.

He sighed, drying a spoon with a towel. 

Then he told her everything.

About how Haley had never really seemed to enjoy kissing him. How she’d go quiet afterward. How sometimes, during dates, she looked more interested in passing women than in whatever he was saying. How she once asked if he thought a barista was pretty, and when he said I guess, she nodded and said She’s stunning, right?

He told Penny about walking into her room and finding Leah between her legs, the shock, the stillness. The breakup that followed—quick, surgical, like Haley had it rehearsed. About how she said we should break up like she was cancelling brunch.

He told her how he’d stood there, unable to speak, mouth open and shut, like a broken door.

And most of all, he told her about feeling like a joke. Like everyone else had seen it coming. Like maybe he was just too dumb, too hopeful, too him to see the truth.

“I acted on impulse,” he finished. “I didn’t know what else to do. You were there, and the reporter was there, and—” He shook his head. “I didn’t want to be a punchline.”

Penny shifted her weight, leaning against the counter now. Her expression softened.

“I kind of wondered,” she said.

Alex looked at her, confused.

“About Haley,” she added. “During the egg hunt this spring… I saw the way Leah looked at her. And at the Flower Dance—there was definitely something there.”

Alex blinked. “Seriously?”

Penny nodded slowly. “I read a lot of books. Romance, mostly. I thought maybe I was just projecting. Making something up.”

He huffed a small laugh. “Guess you weren’t.” A pause. Then Alex brightened a little. “So… dates. We should probably go on some, right? I was thinking maybe the beach? You could bring a book. I’ll bring cake and ice cream. I’ll post a few pics to my story.”

“Your story?” Penny echoed.

“Instagram,” Alex clarified. “I never really used it before. Just game clips. Party stuff. But... maybe I should now?”

Penny gave a small nod, though her eyes drifted to the clock on the wall.

“I should probably head home.”

Alex straightened. “I’ll walk you.”

“There’s no need—”

“I want to,” he said simply.

That shut down her protest.

They told Evelyn and George goodnight, and Evelyn insisted Penny take home leftover cookies “for energy, dear.” Then they stepped into the soft summer night, walking side by side.

Halfway down the hill, Alex asked, “You free Friday?”

Penny shook her head. “It’s Jas’ birthday. Marnie invited me.”

Alex nodded. “Oh. Okay.”

A pause.

Then Penny added, carefully, “Maybe… you could be my plus one?”

Alex glanced at her. Her arms were crossed. Her steps were slower now, like she was second-guessing it even as the words left her mouth.

He didn’t want to be an intrusion. Not in her quiet life. Not around her students.

“I just remembered grandma’s got a check-up with Harvey,” he said.

Penny gave a small nod. “Okay.”

They walked in silence for a few more steps, until Alex said, “We have the Luau next week.”

Penny raised an eyebrow.

“We should go as a couple,” he added.

She bit her lip. They were small, but full—shaped like someone who probably didn't smile as much as she should.

Alex looked away.

“We should,” she said.

“Awesome.”

They reached the trailer. Penny paused by the door, hands clasped in front of her.

“Thanks,” she said. “For walking me home.”

“Anytime.”

They stood there awkwardly. No hug. No handshake. Just an odd shuffle of feet and nervous glances.

Then Penny opened the door, stepped inside, and closed it gently behind her.

Alex stood outside a beat longer.

Great start, he thought.

Chapter 3: Mid-Summer

Notes:

hello, hello!
so, uh, its my birthday today, yay, and you're the one who gets a gift!
here's another chapter <3 i hope you enjoy

i might update this every 10 days or so

Reserved. Quiet. Shy.

People always picked gentle words to describe her.

Penny knew better.

She stared at her reflection, fingers twitching at the hem of her dress. It was the third one she’d tried—this one pale peach with tiny buttons down the front. Her lips pressed together.

It looked… fine. But not right.

She sighed through her nose.

Just go with the pink one, said the voice in her head, flat and tired.

“But Alex will be dressed in green,” she muttered to herself. “It won’t match.”

She tugged the dress off with a frustrated breath, folding it neatly before reaching into her small closet. Her hand brushed against a black skirt, worn soft at the waist. Then a light mint blouse. Crisp. Clean. She held it to her chest, hoping the color would pass as festive, or at least intentional.

She buttoned it slowly. Stepped into her shoes. Took one last glance at the mirror—and hated that she looked like she was trying too hard.

Still, she opened the door.

Alex stood just outside, leaning casually on the trailer’s railing, thumbs hooked in his pockets.

The second he saw her, his face lit up like a sunrise.

“You look amazing,” he said, as easy as breathing.

Penny blinked. “I—thanks.”

She wanted to believe him. She really did.

They walked to the Luau side by side, the warm air full of grilled fruit and sea salt. Alex made a joke about her being fashionably late, and she mumbled something about skirts and timing. He didn’t press.

She liked that about him. He didn’t fill silence with noise.

But she still didn’t understand why he’d chosen her.

She lived in a trailer.

Her mother was asleep—or passed out—inside her bedroom. Penny had to hide the good soap if she wanted it to last the week. She made just enough tutoring Jas and Vincent to cover groceries and Marnie’s patience.

If anyone looked too closely, they’d know this whole thing was fake. That she didn’t belong on Alex’s arm, pretending to be his.

She wasn’t used to being shown off. Not even in small ways.

And yet, here they were.

The Luau buzzed with summer heat and community chatter. Tables sagged with food, lanterns swayed in the breeze, and someone was already laughing too loud near the fruit punch.

They arrived together. Eyes turned. Alex beamed.

“Why are they looking?” Penny asked under her breath, resisting the urge to shrink.

Alex’s smile didn’t falter. “’Cause you’re beautiful. And you’re with me.”

Penny almost laughed. Almost. But something lodged in her throat, so she smiled instead. Not too wide. Just enough.

She wondered if he used to say things like that to Haley.
Probably. They’d dated for six years. Of course he had.

Penny kept her expression neutral as they walked further into the Luau, but her eyes darted. Not at the food tables or the lanterns or even the ocean. No, at the other girls. The ones who would’ve made more sense standing beside someone like Alex.

Maru, for example. Smart, sweet, and kind. Everyone liked Maru. She built robots, for Yoba’s sake.

Or Abigail. With her wild purple hair, sharp tongue, that stormy sort of confidence. She had thick legs and actual breasts—enough to fill out a bra, unlike Penny, who still bought hers from the discount rack and prayed no one noticed.

Even Emily could’ve fit into his world better. She worked at the Saloon, danced barefoot under the moon, knew every lyric to those retro glam rock bands guys liked. But... Penny guessed that would’ve been weird. Dating the sister of the girl who’d broken your heart?

Still.

She didn’t understand why he’d picked her. Out of all of them.

“You okay?” Alex’s voice was low and close, brushing against her ear like wind. “You’re spacing out. You want to go home? We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

She blinked up at him.

Six feet tall. Strong arms. That stupid warm smile he always wore like it belonged there. His eyes were dark green, honest-looking. She couldn’t meet them. Instead, her gaze drifted down—to his hands. Calloused palms. Fingers rough from years of throwing and catching and gripping.

Beautiful hands, she thought. Stupidly.

Alex was so loud. So seen.
She was so... small.

Not just in height—though she was definitely on the lower end of the town’s unofficial measuring scale. Only taller than Abigail, and only by an inch. But her life? Her life was even smaller.

A trailer. A tutoring gig. A mother who couldn’t stay sober long enough to ask how her day had gone.

“It’s nothing,” she said quickly. “We should probably hold hands.”

He hesitated a second—just enough to make her stomach flutter—before reaching for her hand.

His was warm. Steady.

Penny had read enough books to know this was dangerous territory. Fake dating always ends in feelings. Always. The protagonists fall in love, kiss under fireworks, realize they were meant for each other all along.
Books always had happy endings.
This wasn’t a book.
And she wasn’t going to end up with Alex.

Still, he’d been kind.
And she’d thought, maybe, if she were in his place, she’d want someone to help too.
So she did.

“I should’ve seen it before,” Alex said suddenly, dragging her out of her spiral.

“What?”

He tilted his head toward the other side of the crowd. Penny followed his gaze.

Haley and Leah weren’t holding hands, but Haley’s fingers were curled gently around Leah’s forearm, possessive in a way that didn’t look forced. And they were smiling— with their eyes, not just their mouths.

It hurt to see, and Penny didn’t even like Haley.

“It’s pretty obvious now,” Alex muttered. “When you know what to look for.”

“You shouldn’t be looking at your ex-girlfriend,” Penny said, lifting an eyebrow. “Should I be jealous?”

She meant it to be light. A tease. Just enough to get him to stop looking at them.

It worked. Alex grinned, turned toward her again—and touched her cheek gently, like she was something soft. Something worth holding.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said, just loud enough for a few nearby people to hear. His tone was all fake-dating performance, but his thumb lingered against her skin. “You know I only got eyes for you.”

Penny forced herself to smile. Just a little one.

And tried not to wonder what it would feel like if he ever meant it.

(...)

After Lewis’s long-winded speech and the collective suffering that was this year’s Luau soup, Penny and Alex found themselves sitting on the pier, legs dangling above the dark water, pretending to watch the waves.

“The soup was better last year,” Penny said, her arms loosely folded.

Alex snorted. “So it’s not just me.”

“No,” she said. “Someone added way too much cinnamon.”

“That’s what that was?” Alex grimaced. “I’ve been trying to figure out what that awful taste was. I thought maybe Marnie dumped a pie into it.”

“Maybe I should’ve brought something,” Penny muttered, biting her lip. “Didn’t really know what to add.”

She noticed the way Alex looked at her mouth, just briefly, before flicking his gaze away.

“I know my grandparents brought mushrooms,” he said. “We could’ve brought something too.”

We.

Not me, or you. Us.

She wasn’t used to that.

Penny tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, trying not to overthink it. Trying not to feel the way the word settled into her like a warm weight.

“I was thinking,” Alex started, his voice soft and uncertain, “about our next date. Maybe we should—”

But Penny didn’t find out what he had in mind, because a voice cut through the salty air like someone had stepped directly out of a Regency novel.

“Ah, Penny! Splendid to find you here!”

They both turned to see Elliott approaching, hair windswept and dramatic as ever, sandals perfectly unbothered by the sand. He looked like someone who narrated his grocery list.

“I was hoping to discuss the next book club selection,” he said. “Are we leaning toward finishing Frankenstein, or shall we venture forth into the dystopian corridors of Brave New World?”

Alex blinked. He looked like someone had just asked him to recite poetry in a language he didn’t speak.

Penny smiled, already amused. “Elliott, this is Alex. My boyfriend. Alex, Elliott.”

Elliott offered a hand with the flourish of a stage actor. “A pleasure, my good man.”

Alex shook it, polite but wary.

Penny cleared her throat, then grinned—just a little wickedly. “Hey, do you think Alex could join us for book club next time?”

Elliott’s face lit up like a candle. “Oh, that would be a delight! We love welcoming fresh perspectives. Alex, have you a preference between Shelley’s tragic gothic masterpiece and Huxley’s brilliant satire of modern society?”

Alex glanced at Penny, eyes wide, silently screaming help me.

Penny tried not to laugh. “We’ll go with Brave New World.”

Elliott clapped once. “Splendid! We meet in two weeks, same place, same hour.” He nodded, dramatic as always. “Until then.”

He swept off like he had a cape.

There was a beat of silence.

“So,” Penny said, smiling sideways at Alex, “next date… maybe reading together?”

Alex let out a breath through his nose, half a laugh, half a sigh of surrender. “Yeah,” he said, nudging her with his shoulder. “Sure. Just… warn me if there’s, like, math in it or something.”

(...)

The walk back was quiet, except for the gravel under their feet and the occasional rustle of wind through summer leaves. Penny’s stomach felt unsettled—maybe from the soup, maybe from everything else.

She pressed a hand lightly to her abdomen, trying not to grimace.

“That soup really did a number on us, huh?” Alex asked, glancing at her.

“Tell me about it,” she muttered, managing a small smile.

They reached the part of the road where the dirt narrowed and the trees leaned closer. Fireflies blinked lazily around them, and Penny swore she could almost hear the ocean if she focused hard enough.

Then Alex’s phone buzzed.

He pulled it out of his pocket, screen glowing. His brow furrowed.

Penny watched him quietly. “Is it—”

“Just a sec,” he said, stepping a few feet away.

He answered the call with a low voice she couldn’t make out. The conversation was brief. He ended it with a clipped “Okay,” and slipped the phone back into his pocket as he returned to her side.

Everything in his face was smooth again, easy. But for a second, just one second, there’d been something else. Tight around the mouth. That kind of frown people make when they’re holding back something.

“You okay?” Penny asked softly.

He nodded. “Yeah. Just... management stuff.”

She didn’t press.

They reached her trailer. The lights were off inside. Her mother was either asleep or somewhere else entirely. Either way, the trailer was quiet. Penny didn’t know if that made her feel better or worse.

Alex lingered by the door.

“So,” he said, shifting his weight, “I was thinking... maybe we could hang out on Sunday?”

Penny tilted her head. “Is something happening on Sunday?”

He gave her a boyish grin. “It’s my birthday.”

“Oh.” Her heart jumped a little. “Yes. Of course. What should I wear?” she asked, already picturing herself staring into her tiny closet again, second-guessing every color and seam.

“Something comfortable,” he said. “Just be yourself.”

Penny smiled.

It faltered just a little as he leaned in and kissed her cheek—soft and warm and so casual she wasn’t sure why her face suddenly felt hot.

“See you Sunday, then,” he said, stepping back.

She nodded. “Yeah. See you.”

He left with a wave.

She stood in the doorway for a moment before stepping inside. The trailer smelled like dust and cheap soap and the lingering hint of her mother’s perfume. She shut the door gently and leaned against it.

In her bedroom, she sat on the edge of her bed, hands still in her lap. The moonlight filtered through the half-drawn curtain.

Be yourself.

What did that mean, exactly?

This morning was the first time in ages she’d actually tried—really tried —to look nice. And even that felt clumsy. Penny couldn’t remember the last time someone had seen her and said “you look amazing.”

What if Alex didn’t mean it? What if he was just saying what people said when they were pretending to date?

Her stomach twisted again—not from the soup this time.

She pulled her knees up to her chest and stared at the stack of books beside her bed. A paperback she'd read five times. A novel with a dog-eared spine. Something about brave women in beautiful dresses who always ended up with the right person in the end.

But Penny wasn’t brave.
She lived in a trailer.
She didn’t wear the right dresses.
She wasn’t anyone’s happy ending.

She buried her face in her arms, breathing through the weight in her chest.

She had a couple of days to figure out how to “be herself.”

She wasn’t even sure she liked herself all that much.

[---]

The movie played, flickering light over their faces.

It was a romcom—Penny forgot the name. Something about mistaken identities and airport proposals. Normally, she’d enjoy it. She liked stories where things worked out in the end.

But today, she felt like she was watching it from behind glass. The jokes didn’t land right. The romance felt sharp. A part of her—the part she usually ignored—wanted to press her hand against the screen and whisper, Don’t fall for it. That’s not real.

She leaned slightly in her seat. Not away from Alex, just… away from the feeling growing in her throat.

Earlier that morning, Alex had knocked on her trailer door before she’d made up her mind between the pink or the blue dress.

She cracked it open just enough to peek out. “I’m not ready.”

Alex smiled, eyes warm and just a little nervous. “That’s okay. I’m early.” He paused. “Haley always made me pick between dresses when she couldn’t decide—” He caught himself. His smile faltered, just slightly, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Anyway. Maybe I can help.”

She hesitated. But then opened the door.

He didn’t blink. Not at the clutter in the entryway, not at the chipped paint or the clothes she’d scattered trying to decide what “comfortable” meant. Just stood there, hands in his jacket pockets, like she lived in a castle.

They settled on the blue one. He said it matched her eyes. She didn’t know if that was true, but it made her skin feel warm.

Outside, he offered her his hand, like it was nothing.

Penny looked at it. She took it.

At the bus stop, she raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t a famous guy like you have a car?”

Alex let out a breath that was probably supposed to be a laugh. “You’d think. But the league pays me in exposure and protein powder.”

Penny blinked. “Is that a joke?”

He grinned. “Kinda. It’s not great pay. I send most of it to my grandparents. And a car’s not much use here anyway.”

She hadn’t expected him to say that. She thought maybe he’d roll his eyes or stick his tongue out in a joking way.

Instead, he sat beside her on the bus, knee brushing hers, and watched the scenery with a quiet look on his face.

Now, the couple in the movie were kissing in the rain. Penny stared at the screen, jaw clenched.

She shouldn’t be here.

She shouldn’t feel this comfortable. Or wanted. Or seen.

She turned slightly to look at Alex. His eyes were on the screen, lips curled in a smile like he actually liked this kind of movie. Like he wasn’t pretending for her.

She looked away fast.

When they’d gotten off the bus in Zuzu City, Penny had asked, “Shouldn’t we do something for you? It’s your birthday.”

Alex had smiled at her, almost bashful. “Trust me. This is for me.”

She should’ve known then she was in trouble.

Because it was the kind of thing people said in the movies. Right before everything got complicated. Right before feelings snuck in through the cracks.

But Penny knew her life wasn’t a movie.

She lived in a trailer with thin walls and a mother who forgot her birthday most years. She wore secondhand shoes. Her version of romance was tutoring Jas and pretending she didn’t care when couples danced in the town square.

This wasn't a romcom.
It was a favor.
It was pretend.

She folded her hands tightly in her lap and reminded herself: this ends. This isn’t real.

Still, when the credits rolled and the lights came back up, her first thought was:

He held my hand the whole time.

(...)

The sun was still out when they stepped into the noise of Zuzu City. It was golden now, the kind of late afternoon light that made people believe in perfect days.

Alex stretched his arms over his head, grinning. “Okay, now it’s the real perfect time.”

Penny blinked. “For what?”

“Ice cream,” he said. “Obviously.”

She laughed before she could stop herself. “Obviously.”

As they walked, he turned to her. “What’s your favorite flavor?”

The question was casual. Small. But the way his eyes were on her made her heart trip a little. She bit her lip.

“Melon.”

He gave her this look—half surprised, half delighted. “Melon? That’s my favorite too.”

She wasn’t sure if he was serious. But the way he said it made her stomach twist (and without a soup to blame).

They stopped at a cart painted pale yellow with a little striped umbrella. The vendor recognized Alex immediately, lit up, and asked if he’d mind a photo. Alex smiled like a pro, waved it off with a charming “maybe later,” then turned to the cart.

“One melon for me,” he said. “And one for the lady.”

Penny started to protest, but he already had his card out. Already handed over a few bills. Already passed her a cone before she could even offer to split it.

She shifted her weight to one foot, feeling the familiar heat of guilt bloom under her ribs. He’d already paid for her movie ticket. And now this. It was his birthday. And somehow she was the one getting things for free.

They walked along the edge of the city square, just slow enough to pretend they weren’t headed anywhere. Penny licked the side of her cone and glanced at Alex. He held his carefully, like it was too good to rush. His free hand brushed hers now and then, casual. Like it might just take hers at any moment.

She wondered if she’d let him.

Then—flash. A camera.

She flinched a little, and Alex noticed. His hand, sticky with condensation, came up gently to her cheek. His thumb barely touched her skin.

“Remember,” he whispered, voice low and smiling. “We’re in love, okay?”

She smiled, automatically. Instinct. A survival reflex.

But inside, something pulled tight.

Because maybe this was what the phone call had been about. A photographer, tipped off. A chance to feed the narrative. Maybe this whole afternoon had been planned.

Or maybe it hadn’t. Maybe Alex had just wanted a nice day. A movie. Melon ice cream. Someone next to him who wasn’t going to rip his heart out in a twin-size bed with someone else’s hands on her.

Penny couldn’t tell.

Alex’s hand was still on her cheek, the pad of his thumb warm against her skin. He licked his lips—absently, maybe—but she noticed.

He was hesitating.

Pondering.

Penny’s stomach flipped. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but she didn’t want to mess it up. Her voice came out smaller than she intended.

“It’s okay,” she said. “You can kiss me.”

Alex blinked. “Right.”

But something in the way he said it made her throat tighten.

It was his idea. The whole act. So why wasn’t he kissing her?

He leaned in, slow and soft, and Penny closed her eyes, bracing for it.

But his lips never met hers. Instead, she felt them, cold and sticky from the ice cream, press gently against her forehead.

Her eyes fluttered open just as he rested his forehead against hers. Close enough to feel his breath, but not close enough to feel wanted.

Click.

Alex pulled back with a smile, as if nothing had happened, and took her hand. He lifted it and kissed her knuckles with exaggerated charm, like they were in an old romance movie.

Penny’s heart did something strange in her chest. Something that scared her a little.

They walked on, their ice creams slowly melting down the cones, but whatever warmth had been in the air before was gone now, replaced by something quieter. He didn’t let go of her hand, but his grip had changed. It wasn’t loose or tight. Just… there.

Penny stole a glance at him. Alex was focused ahead, jaw tight, licking his ice cream like it was a task to complete instead of something to enjoy. The back of his neck was flushed pink. Embarrassed? Frustrated? She couldn’t tell.

She wondered if he thought the almost-kiss was a mistake. If it was just for the camera, why had he looked so unsure? And if it wasn’t, if some part of him really wanted to kiss her, then why didn’t he?

The silence stretched between them, long and careful, like a bridge built out of eggshells.

Penny took another bite, more for something to do than for the taste. “I, um… before we go back,” she said, voice tentative, “would you mind stopping by a bookstore?”

Alex blinked, startled out of whatever storm he was caught in. “Yeah,” he said quickly. “Of course.”

(...)

The bookstore smelled like paper and quiet.

Penny walked between the shelves like she’d been here a hundred times before. Her fingertips grazed the spines as she passed them, pausing every few steps. Alex followed behind her, his steps heavy but slow. Respectful.

She could feel his eyes on her.

“Are we here for one of those fake dating books you mentioned?” he asked, voice low and amused behind her.

She chuckled. “Of course.”

He made a thoughtful noise. “Cool. I hope there's one where the fake boyfriend’s a hot athlete.”

She bit back a smile. “You’d be shocked how common that trope is.”

Alex walked beside her now, close enough that their sleeves brushed. She paused in front of the sports fiction section, scanning titles.

“Don’t peek,” she said over her shoulder. “It’s a surprise.”

“For me?”

“For your birthday.”

He nodded, and she could see the protest forming on his lips.

“I’ll pay,” she added quickly.

“Penny—”

“Nope.” She turned and raised a hand like a stop sign. “Your birthday. Girlfriend rules.”

Alex’s mouth opened, then closed. He gave a crooked smile and held up his hands in surrender.

A few minutes later, at the register, she handed him a neatly wrapped paper bag. He pulled the book out slowly, turning it over in his hands. The cover was soft-toned and simple, with a lone figure mid-serve on a tennis court.

“This doesn’t look like a fake dating book,” he said, frowning.

Penny smiled. “It isn’t. It’s about a tennis player.”

He squinted at the cover, reading the summary. “Never heard of her, I guess?”

“She’s fictional,” Penny said with a laugh. “It’s just a novel. Romance and sports, I thought you might relate.”

Alex turned the book in his hands, then tucked it carefully under his arm. “Right. I’ll read it.” He paused. “After that Brave New World thing, I guess.”

Penny raised an eyebrow. “Two books in one season? That’s ambitious.” She nudged him lightly. “Love is changing you.”

Alex gave her a crooked smile. “You’re a good influence on me.”

It sounded like a compliment, but there was something under it—something gentler. Real.

Penny looked away quickly, pretending to study the little trinkets on the bookstore counter.

She didn’t know what she was getting into. But she was already in it.

And maybe—just maybe—so was he.

Chapter 4: Late Summer

The museum was quiet in that late-summer way, all golden light through the dusty windows and a barely-there breeze curling in through the open doors.

Alex walked in holding his copy of Brave New World, corners bent, a pen tucked between the pages like a bookmark he didn’t really need. He spotted them right away: Elliott, Harvey, and Penny, already gathered around the largest desk, a plate of lopsided homemade cookies at the center. There was even a bottle of wine cracked open, deep red in a glass pitcher.

He frowned. Wine?

Penny’s mother, Pam, was… not subtle about her drinking. Everyone knew. Penny didn’t drink. She never said anything, but Alex had noticed how she used to avoid the Saloon, how she had always brought soda cans to the Luau and Fall Festival.

His stomach twisted, half-angry at the thought of someone being that careless.

But then he saw a bright melon soda can between her legs, condensation dripping down the side. Not open yet, just resting gently against her thigh like a tiny anchor.

Alex let out a slow breath and made himself smile.

“Alex!” Elliott said, gesturing broadly like he was announcing royalty. “Just in time. We were about to start.”

Alex gave him a nod and made his way over. Penny had already pulled a chair out for him. He sat beside her, the smell of her shampoo something light and clean, like green tea or mint.

He leaned in a little and muttered, “Surprisingly, I reached the final chapter.”

Penny chuckled, soft and real, and Alex grinned like he’d won something.

He liked when she laughed. Liked when her guard dropped just a little.

Liked… her.

Before he could sit too far in that thought, the door creaked open again.

“Crap,” said a voice.

Alex looked up.

Leah. Standing in the doorway, her red curls pulled into a loose ponytail, a copy of Brave New World in her hand. She froze when she spotted him, then stepped further in, awkward but determined.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said to Elliott. “I ran into Marnie on the way here.”

Elliott beamed. “Nonsense, you’re perfectly on time. Join us! The more the merrier.”

Leah slid into the only empty seat, diagonally across from Alex, and for a moment, everything inside him went quiet.

He tried to focus, to remember what the goddamn book was about. Something about conditioning. A dystopia. Societal control. But all he could picture was Leah. Leah on Haley’s bed. Leah between Haley’s legs.

His jaw clenched, and he stared down at the warped spine of his book.

Then, soft and grounding, he felt it. Penny’s hand, warm on his leg, squeezing lightly. Just once.

He covered her hand with his, not squeezing back, but leaving it there. A silent thank you.

The conversation moved around him. Elliott pontificating. Harvey countering with something measured and dry. Penny, gentle and articulate, weaving meaning out of the more abstract themes. When she spoke, Alex nodded like he was paying attention—because he was. Not to the book, but to her.

At one point, Elliott asked him a question directly, something about the nature of happiness in Brave New World, and Alex blinked like he’d just remembered where he was.

“Right,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think… I dunno. They’re happy, technically, right? But it’s fake. Not real happiness. It’s like they’re... choosing comfort over meaning. Like if you don’t ever feel anything bad, what’s the point of anything good?”

Penny looked at him—really looked at him—and he glanced back, a little embarrassed, but proud he hadn’t just completely flopped.

The moment passed, the discussion kept going, and Leah didn’t say a word.

But when they were leaving, as Penny lingered by Elliott to say goodbye, Leah paused at the door. Alex caught her out of the corner of his eye.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “For how it happened. For how you found out. I… I care about her. I really do.”

Alex exhaled through his nose and tried to force a smile. “Yeah,” he said. “Well, it sucked. Being the last to find out. I feel like maybe the whole town already knew before I did.”

Leah flinched a little, but didn’t argue.

Then he looked at Penny—still chatting with Elliott, finishing the last sip of her melon soda, her laugh soft and real.

“But I mean,” Alex added, voice quieter now. “I got a new girlfriend and all, so… thanks, I guess. Found someone nicer.”

Leah’s expression shifted. She tilted her head, like she was trying to read him. Something in her eyes said she didn’t buy it. But she didn’t push. She just gave a small nod and left, the door creaking behind her.

Alex exhaled again. Tension out. Over. Maybe.

He turned back to Penny.

“Hey,” he said. “You wanna head back?”

She glanced toward him, gave Elliott a polite goodbye smile, and nodded. “Sure.”

And then they left the museum together. Quiet. Walking side by side into the warm dusk. No cameras, no book discussions, no ghosts trailing behind them—at least for now.

[---]

The air was hot and dry, even in the early morning. The clinic smelled faintly of antiseptic and sun-warmed plastic chairs. Alex sat in the waiting room, elbows on his knees, phone in hand, waiting while Harvey finished up his exam with George.

Evelyn was in there with them, chatting with Harvey about blood pressure and how George hadn’t been drinking enough water lately. Alex knew his grandpa was grumbling through the whole thing. He could practically hear it through the wall.

He refreshed his phone again. Twitter. Instagram. Sports blogs.

He shouldn’t have looked.

The latest headline was pinned to a reposted picture from Sunday’s date:
“Alex Crandall and Girlfriend Penny Spotted in Zuzu City — Melon Ice Cream, Movie Date, and Forehead Kisses!”

He stared at the photo—the one where his sticky ice-cream lips had landed on Penny’s forehead. A second one followed, showing her sipping from her cone with one hand, his fingers brushing hers like a casual habit.

The comments were mostly harmless.

“they’re kinda cute actually.”
“Penny? such a small-town name. i’m obsessed.”
“hope she doesn’t break his heart before the season starts lmao.”

 “Hope she knows what she’s in for dating a guy like him.
This better not mess with his preseason training, just saying.”

 

He turned off his screen with a sigh.

Penny had made her Instagram private. He’d told her to—just in case. She’d done it that same night. She didn’t seem to post much anyway, mostly books and flower photos and once, weirdly, a picture of the bus from Pelican to Zuzu taken through the window on a rainy day. She had like, twenty-three followers.

He followed her. She followed back.

They’d started texting the day after the movie. Not constantly, but steady enough that he found himself smiling at her name popping up more than once.

Penny texted like she spoke. Full punctuation. Complete thoughts. “That movie was better than expected.” “I’m tutoring Vincent this week, he’s struggling with decimals.” “Are you feeling okay? You looked tired on Sunday.”

He’d replied with stuff like “yeah just long practice” and “u ever get the feeling someone’s gonna drop u from a team even when ur doing okay lol” and she’d answered with empathy, not pity.

Sometimes he reread their conversations just because they felt… good.

The door to the exam room creaked open. Evelyn emerged first, thanking Harvey, followed by George rolling out in his chair with a scowl like he’d just survived a personal war.

“I’m not takin’ those horse pills,” George muttered. “What happened to good old-fashioned steak and potatoes?”

“George,” Evelyn said gently.

Alex stood. “Everything alright?”

“Vitamins,” Harvey said, stepping out with a clipboard. “And cutting back on sodium. Try to get him to do some arm exercises every other day, if he’ll tolerate it.”

“I won’t,” George said.

Alex chuckled, patting his grandpa’s shoulder. “I’ll try.”

Harvey offered a smile. “You’re doing great, Alex. I know this isn’t easy.”

“Nah, he’s tough.” Alex nodded toward George, who just grunted.

Harvey handed over a pamphlet. “Next book club meeting’s on Saturday, around mid-Fall. Just so you know.”

Alex looked up from slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Yeah… I’ll probably be traveling again by then. Training starts soon.” He hesitated. “But I’ll try. I mean—it’s not like I read fast, but I don’t mind the group.”

Harvey raised an eyebrow. “You’re saying that like it’s a big confession.”

Alex scratched the back of his neck. “Kinda is.”

Harvey just smiled. “Well, I think Penny would like it if you showed up.”

Alex didn’t say anything to that. Just nodded, trying not to smile too obviously.

(...)

On their way back home, Alex saw her. 

Her blonde hair was wavy, the kind of effortless look that happened after a day by the sea. She was giggling at something—maybe nothing at all—and walking from the south, toward town. He guessed she’d been at the beach. Probably watching Leah sketch the damn waves or whatever.

Before he could make the decision to pretend he hadn’t seen her, her eyes landed on him. She hesitated just long enough for it to be uncomfortable, then gave him a small, polite smile and gestured like she wanted to talk.

Alex sighed.

“I’ll be right in,” he told his grandparents. “Just gonna check on Dusty.”

They didn’t question him.

He stepped toward Haley. She stood a few feet away, arms crossed loosely like this wasn’t weird at all.

“Hey,” she said. “You look… good.”

“Thanks,” he said. Flat. Careful.

An awkward pause stretched between them.

Haley tried again. “How’ve you been?”

He exhaled through his nose. “What’s the point of this?”

She blinked, but the surprise faded fast. Her expression softened, lips pursing like she was holding something back. Her eyebrows did that thing people do when they pity you.

Alex hated it.

“I always liked you, Alex,” she said gently. “Just… not like that. I thought maybe we could still be friends.”

“We have nothing in common.”

She chuckled, light, not mocking. “Well. I like women. You like women. That’s one.”

Alex gave a sharp glance, and she bit her lip, not exactly apologetic.

“I heard we’re both into redheads,” she added. Her tone was teasing, but her eyes were watching too closely.

Heat rose to his cheeks.

“Penny,” she said next, like the name had been waiting. “Are you two for real?”

Her voice wasn’t sharp or mean. It wasn’t jealous, either. Just curious.

He could tell her it was fake. He could shrug and laugh and say, “nah, just for the cameras.” But the words didn’t come.

Instead, he said, “She’s amazing. We’re really… connecting, actually. She’s a sweet girl.”

Haley held his gaze for a moment longer, searching for something. Then she smiled—this time, real and brief—and nodded.

“Okay,” she said softly. “Good.”

And then she turned, walking back toward her house, down the street where the streetlights flickered pale orange.

Alex stood still for a few moments. His shoulders were tense, like he’d been holding his breath through the whole thing.

He wandered over to Dusty’s little fenced area, crouched by the doghouse. The big mutt lifted his head and wagged his tail once.

“What am I doing, Dusty?” Alex muttered, rubbing between his ears.

Dusty licked his wrist.

Alex gave him a weak smile, stood, and walked inside.

[---]

The sun hung low, casting golden streaks across the grass. It was that perfect stretch of late summer: warm, but not heavy. The kind of evening where everything felt soft around the edges.

They were in the open patch of land behind Vincent’s house, near the path that led up to the clinic; not a real field, but big enough for throwing a ball around. Alex lobbed the ball toward Vincent, not too hard, giving the kid time to run for it. Vincent nearly tripped chasing after it, but he came back triumphant, arms raised like he’d just scored a touchdown in the finals.

“Did you see that?!” Vincent shouted.

“I saw it,” Alex grinned, crouching to give him a high five. “That was a perfect catch, man.”

Jas sat on the grass nearby, perfectly still with her knees tucked under her. “I don’t want to get my dress dirty,” she said when Alex asked if she wanted to join. She fiddled with the edge of her sleeve, half-watching the game, half-watching Penny.

Penny sat beside her, legs curled to the side, eyes soft, offering the kind of steady presence that made everything around her feel calmer. Alex threw the ball again, glanced toward her mid-throw.

She was smiling.

After a while, Vincent started yawning between tosses, so Alex slung the ball under one arm and ruffled the kid’s hair. “Ice cream?”

Vincent’s head snapped up like he’d been summoned by the gods. “YES.”

Jas perked up at that too. She stood, brushed off her skirt, and followed without a word.

They walked the short distance to his grandparents’ house, the breeze tugging gently at Penny’s hair as they went. Inside, the kids crowded around the kitchen table while Evelyn fetched the container from the freezer. Vanilla with bits of blackberry swirled in; he and his grandma had made it together the day before.

Vincent took one bite and went starry-eyed. “This is better than Joja Mart ice cream!”

Evelyn beamed. “Oh, my. That's high praise!”

Jas gave a polite “thank you” and nibbled carefully, pinkies raised like a little duchess.

Vincent hugged Alex around the legs before diving back into his bowl. “You’re cooler than Sam,” he said through a mouthful of ice cream. “But don’t tell Sam I said that.”

Alex laughed. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

When he looked up, Penny was watching him. Not in a dazed, dreamy kind of way. Just… warm. Soft. Like he’d done something right without realizing it.

And for some reason, that made something in his chest tighten.

(...)

The sun had sunk lower by the time Penny glanced at the time and gently told the kids it was time to head home.

Vincent let out a groan, dragging his feet in the grass. “But I want to stay with Alex longer…”

Alex crouched to his level, resting his hands on his knees. “Hey, we’ve still got more summer left,” he said, giving Vincent a small smile. “We’ll play again, alright? Plenty of times.”

Vincent hesitated, then nodded solemnly. “Okay. But don’t forget.”

“I won’t,” Alex promised.

But as he stood back up, he felt a knot tighten in his chest. He wasn’t so sure that was true. Next week, he’d be back in the city, and everything would shift again.

They dropped Vincent off at home—Jodi waved from the porch—and walked Jas back to Marnie’s. Once the front door closed behind her, Alex and Penny were left in the quiet of the early evening. The crickets had started, soft and rhythmic, but the stars hadn’t come out yet.

Alex tilted his head up, staring at the still-blue sky. “It was a perfect day,” he said quietly. “Kinda sucks that it’s over.”

Penny glanced at him, then smiled softly. “We could walk to the beach,” she said. “Stay out a little longer. Maybe watch the stars come out.”

He looked at her, grateful. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

The walk to the beach was unhurried. The air had cooled just enough to make the breeze off the ocean feel nice, not biting. They sat on the sand side by side, close enough that their shoulders brushed.

The waves rolled in and out with a steady hush. Penny tucked her skirt beneath her knees, hands resting on the sand beside her. The last of the sun had disappeared beyond the horizon, leaving only a lavender haze where the sky met the water.

“That was really nice,” she said quietly. “With Vincent. You made his whole day.”

Alex shrugged, but a small smile tugged at his mouth. “He’s a good kid. Got a lot of energy.”

“I could see how much it meant to him. He really looks up to you.”

He glanced at her, something unreadable in his eyes, before looking back at the water. “Sports are good for kids. Helps them grow strong, stay focused, burn all that energy in a good way. And the adrenaline, the goal-setting… it does something to your brain, y’know?”

Penny chuckled. “You sound like a sports nerd.”

“I am a sports nerd,” he said, grinning, but the expression faltered a little, softened. “But it’s not just that. It helps with more than just your body. Mental health too. Way more than people give it credit for.”

Penny turned toward him slightly, considering him. “Yeah,” she said after a beat. “I think you’re right.”

Alex hesitated, watching the sand shift between his fingers. Then his voice dropped a little.

“My dad used to hit my mom.”

Penny blinked, startled by the honesty, but she didn’t interrupt. She waited.

“I tried to stop him once,” Alex said, eyes still on the ground. “I was a kid. Thought I could protect her. He beat me up too. After that, I told myself I’d never be weak again. That’s… that’s why training matters so much to me. Not just for the sport. I had to be strong. In case something like that ever happened again.”

His voice was steady, but there was something tight underneath it, like a pulled muscle.

Penny didn’t speak. She just reached out and gently placed her hand over his, grounding him there in the quiet.

“When he died in a car crash, I didn’t feel anything. Just relief. I thought it made me a bad person.”

“It doesn’t,” Penny said, gently.

Alex kept his gaze on the water. “Then my mom got sick. She didn’t last long after he was gone. Gridball was the only thing that kept my brain from falling apart after that.”

Penny reached over and found his hand in the sand. She squeezed it.
He looked down at their joined hands, then squeezed back.

He didn’t say it out loud, but her being there—quiet, steady—meant more than anything.

They sat like that for a while, listening to the waves, their hands still touching. Neither of them spoke. The silence didn’t feel heavy. It felt like something they were allowed to share.

Eventually, Penny shifted a little. “It’s late,” she said softly. “I should get home.”

Alex stood up with her, brushing the sand from his jeans. A small part of him wanted to stall, say something, anything, to keep the night from ending. But he just nodded. “Yeah. I’ll walk you.”

They walked back in silence, their steps soft against the dirt path, the night folding gently around them. Their arms brushed once—barely—but neither reached out. The space between their hands felt small and enormous at the same time. Alex’s heart beat a little faster than normal, and he didn’t know if it was from the chill in the air or just from being this close to her.

The trailer came into view, yellow light glowing faintly through the thin curtains.

At the steps, Penny turned toward him with a soft smile. “Thanks. For walking me.”

Alex nodded, but his feet didn’t move. His eyes flicked down to her lips, then back up. For half a second, he wondered if he should lean in, kiss her cheek. Something gentle. Something that meant thank you for tonight.

But would that be too much?

He hesitated. Seconds stretched. The silence between them suddenly buzzed in his ears.

“Can I…” he started, rubbing the back of his neck. “Would it be okay if I hugged you?”

Her eyes widened slightly, surprised, but not pulling away. She looked at him for a breath, maybe two, and then nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

The hug was quiet and steady. Her arms wrapped lightly around his waist, and he held her, careful and close. Her hair smelled like citrus—different from before. It caught him off guard, in a good way. He let himself notice everything: the warmth of her against him, the slow rise and fall of her breath, the way her head rested briefly near his shoulder.

She let go first, taking a small step back. “Goodnight, Alex.”

“’Night, Penny.”

He stood there after the door closed, staring at the peeling paint, the outline of her shadow behind the curtain. For a moment, it felt like the trailer was miles away, not just twenty steps from his house. How could someone live so close, and still feel so far away?

He walked slowly, dragging his feet a little. His chest felt full in a strange, quiet way. When he reached his grandparents’ house, he paused before going inside.

He shut the door behind him softly. The warmth of the house hit him all at once—wood floors, old rugs, the scent of something baked earlier that day.

From the kitchen, Evelyn called, “Dinner’s getting cold!”

Alex didn’t look in her direction. “I’m not really hungry,” he said, his voice low.

He went up the stairs without turning on the light. His room was dark, the familiar outlines of his posters and old desk barely visible in the moonlight.

He sat on the edge of the bed first, elbows on his knees. Then he lay back slowly, staring up at the ceiling, his arms behind his head.

He could still feel the ghost of her hand in his. The press of her body during the hug. The way she’d said yeah, okay like it mattered.

The smell of her hair lingered in his thoughts. Bright, citrusy. New.

He closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep, but her warmth stayed with him.
And he let it.

It stayed with him, even after sleep took over.

[---]

The last day of summer.

Alex buttoned up his light short-sleeved shirt—white with tiny green palm trees. He ran a hand through his spiky hair, frowning at the mirror. It looked fine. It always looked fine. It didn’t stop him from messing with it again.

His eyes flicked to the photograph on his dresser. His mother, smiling, her arms around a much smaller version of him.

He hesitated.

“I wish you were here,” he said quietly, like the words might echo back from the glass. “Hope I’m making you proud.”

He lingered a moment longer before grabbing his phone and heading out.

Don’t look for Haley, he told himself. Don’t ruin tonight.

He texted Penny:
“On my way.”

When he reached the trailer, he knocked lightly and heard a muffled, “Just a minute!” from inside.

He waited, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. His stomach did that thing again—tight and restless. Maybe it was nerves. Or maybe it was the way the season was ending, the way everything soft and warm was about to change.

He exhaled. “You’re gonna have a good time,” he murmured to himself. “Make Penny laugh. Ignore Haley. You can do that.”

Then the door opened.

Penny stepped out, head ducked slightly, her hands nervously fidgeting with the hem of her light blue dress. Her cheeks were already flushed—maybe from the heat, maybe from effort, maybe from something else entirely.

Alex stared.

Her hair was slightly curled at the ends, her lashes long in the low light.

“What?” Penny asked, her voice tight. “Should I change?”

Alex blinked. “You’re beautiful.”

Penny nodded, her expression unreadable. “Okay.”

They walked to the beach in quiet. It was already past ten. Lewis was lighting the lanterns on the boat, calling the jellies in with gentle fire.

The waves shimmered with bioluminescent glow. Penny’s hair glinted silver-blue under the lights, like something out of a fairy tale.

Alex glanced around. And of course—they were there. Haley and Leah. Near Elliott’s cabin, close enough to see but not hear. Haley laughed at something, leaning into Leah, her hand brushing up Leah’s skirt as if no one was watching.

Alex looked away.

He turned back to Penny. A strand of hair had fallen in front of her face. Without thinking, he reached out and gently tucked it behind her ear.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

“I go back to the city tomorrow,” Alex said, still looking at her.

She didn’t say anything at first.

“I’ll, uh... I’ll try to come back for book club,” he added, softer this time.

“You don’t have to,” she said, turning to meet his eyes.

“I know. I want to.”

Penny blinked slowly. Then smiled. It wasn’t big, but it reached her eyes.

Alex felt something tug inside his chest.

“I was thinking…” he hesitated. “Maybe, if you ever want, you could visit? The city, I mean. Come to a game.”

She didn’t answer right away. He rushed to fill the space.

“I’ll pay for your ticket,” he said. “And maybe I could get you a shirt with my name on it? You don’t have to wear it, just—if you wanted to, I mean.”

Penny bit her lip—then caught herself, like she suddenly realized she’d been doing that too much lately. She released it slowly and folded her hands together instead.

“Okay,” she said. “That’s what sports girlfriends do, right?”

Alex opened his mouth to say something—he wasn’t even sure what—but Penny looked away before he could.
“Look,” she said, nodding toward the ocean. “We’re missing it.”

Out on the water, the jellies floated like slow lanterns, glowing and silent in the dark. Pale blue light shimmered over the waves.

“It’s the same every year,” Alex said, a little quieter now. “Same boat, same speech. Same weird magic.”

Penny gave a small, sad smile. “It’s so beautiful,” she murmured. “It’s almost sad.”

He didn’t know what she meant by that—if he’d said something wrong, or if she was thinking of something else entirely. Maybe she wasn’t even really talking to him.

His fingers brushed against hers, a light, uncertain touch. He gave her a look, silent and unsure, like he was asking may I?

She didn’t answer out loud. Just turned her hand over, letting him take it.

And then, unexpectedly, she leaned in—softly, gently—and rested her head on his shoulder.

Alex didn’t move. He barely breathed.

And with that, summer ended.

Chapter 5: Early Fall

Ten minutes on the clock.

The scoreboard flickered above the field, two points ahead, but it didn’t feel like enough. Not against this team. They were fast, aggressive—good. The kind of good that made Alex's muscles burn with every sprint, his heart jackhammering with the weight of it all.

He adjusted his stance, sweat dripping down his temple, and let his eyes sweep the bleachers just once.

There she was.

Penny sat near the front row, hands clasped tight in her lap like she was praying. Her eyes were fixed on the game, brows knit in concern, the oversized shirt with his name and number tugged over her body. It was a little too big on her. He kind of loved that.

She’d come.

He’d booked the ticket, reserved the hotel, even told her she could bring someone—Elliott, maybe; they seemed like good friends, standing close during book club, laughing softly about things Alex didn’t understand. Shane, who worshipped the sport. One of the kids, for a city adventure.

But she showed up alone.

She always surprised him.

He remembered calling her the day before, trying to sound casual and failing.
“So, about you coming to see me during a game,” he’d said, scratching the back of his neck even though she couldn’t see him. “Would you come tomorrow?”

There was a pause. Then Penny, almost shyly, “I’d like to.”

She didn’t ask for details. Didn’t ask why he wanted her there. Just said she’d come.

He knew it couldn’t have been easy—leaving Pelican Town, her students, her mother. Her life. But she came anyway. Like he was just another part of her day now. Like he belonged in her schedule.

Maybe getting out of town was good for her. He’d noticed the way she shrank into herself sometimes, shoulders tense, eyes distant. He saw it even when she smiled. Maybe this—the noise, the air, the movement —was good. Maybe she needed something different. Something real.

The ref’s whistle pierced the air. Alex snapped back to the game.

The play happened fast. A blur of color and motion. His teammates shouted, one passed the ball wide, another faked left, and then the ball was in his hands. He didn’t think—just ran.

He weaved past the defense, grounded his feet, and launched the shot.

The crowd erupted before the ball even landed.

Final point.

Game over. They’d won.

The final whistle blew. The stadium erupted.

Alex barely registered the sound—he was already running, his teammates swarming him, arms slapping his back, sweat sticking jerseys together, shouts of “Hell yeah!” and “You carried us, bro!” echoing around him.

He’d done it. They’d done it.

He laughed, breathless, adrenaline buzzing through his veins. Somewhere in the noise, a coach was shouting strategy for next week, but Alex wasn’t listening. His eyes were already searching the crowd, skipping over signs and strangers, until—

There she was.

Penny stood in the bleachers, hands clasped tight in front of her, a smile breaking slowly across her face like sunlight over water. Her hair was messy from the wind, cheeks pink from the cool evening air—or maybe from watching him.

He jogged toward her without thinking. Climbed the barrier. Took the stairs two at a time. She stepped forward instinctively, meeting him halfway—

And Alex kissed her.

No hesitation, no plan. Just adrenaline and instinct and the way her eyes had lit up when he scored that final point. Her lips were soft and slightly parted, her breath caught in her throat. She froze—only for a heartbeat—but then her hands rose, gently resting on his shoulders. She kissed him back.

Somewhere in the stands, someone cheered. Another whistle blew. The crowd was already thinning, people drifting toward the exits, but a few phones were definitely up.

Alex broke the kiss, still close, forehead almost against hers. His pulse was still too fast. “I’m sorry,” he said, breath shaky. “I wasn’t thinking—”

Penny shook her head once. “It’s okay.”

And it was. She was flushed, sure, wide-eyed, definitely. But calm. Present. With him.

A voice broke into the moment. “Alex! Alex—great game, man. Got a few questions if you don’t mind—” A journalist pushed closer, mic in hand, already launching into a question about season stats and “what’s next for the star of the night?”

Alex opened his mouth, but Penny stepped forward, politely but firmly.

“It’s actually my birthday,” she said, sweet and clear, with a smile that was all manners and steel. “So we’ve got plans. Private ones.”

The journalist blinked, thrown for a second. Alex blinked too. Then he grinned—wide and stupid and totally smitten.

“Yeah,” he added, voice low near Penny’s ear. “Happy birthday.”

(...)

Private plans, apparently, meant cheap Chinese food and a shared hotel room with muted lights and a muted TV playing something neither of them was watching.

Back at the hotel room, Penny had kicked off her shoes and folded herself onto the edge of the bed. Alex sat on the floor, leaning against the footboard, with takeout boxes scattered between them.

“So,” Alex said, trying and failing to catch a slippery noodle with his chopsticks, “the birthday. Was that real?”

Penny blinked at him, caught mid-chew. Her eyes flicked down to her takeout box, then back to him. “Yeah.”

“Huh,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “How did I not know this?”

She shrugged, cheeks a little pink. “It just never came up.”

“Really? A boyfriend should know these things.”

“A real boyfriend would,” Penny said, soft but matter-of-fact. No edge to it. No heat. Just truth.

Alex’s smile faltered for half a second. He chewed the inside of his cheek.

The kiss was still echoing in his head. He couldn’t stop replaying it—how natural it felt, how he’d leaned in before he even thought about it. It must’ve been the adrenaline. Had to be. That high you get after a win, after feeling like everything is finally clicking.

He’d imagined that kind of kiss before, back in school. Usually with Haley, after a game—one of the few that mattered. But Haley used to grimace at his sweat, wrinkle her nose at his arms.

Penny didn’t do that. Penny hadn’t said a word about the sweat, or the smell. She’d just kissed him back.

“You’re hopeless,” she said suddenly, scooting down to sit beside him, legs crisscrossed, box in her lap. “Let me help you with those.”

He looked up at her. “I was getting the hang of it.”

“You were fighting the noodles.”

Alex huffed out a laugh but didn’t argue.

The truth was, he didn’t usually eat Chinese food. Not because he didn’t like it—it just wasn’t something he thought to order. But when he’d asked Penny what she wanted, she’d said Chinese without hesitation, so that’s what he got. He’d debated ordering from two different places—something safer for him—but then he imagined her sitting alone, eating while he waited, or worse, her letting her food go cold so they could eat together. So he ordered the same as her.

And maybe—maybe—he also wanted to impress her a little.

She reached out, gently adjusting his grip on the chopsticks. Her fingers brushed against his. Slender, graceful, soft. A little too cold from the air conditioning.

Alex found himself watching her hands instead of the food. She was so small, and yet, she always carried herself like she had to hold the world together.

She guided his hand through the motion once. Then again.

“I think I got it now,” he said, but he didn’t move away.

“You sure?”

“Only one way to find out.”

He tried again—and actually managed to get a decent bite. She smiled. It made something in his chest loosen.

“I didn’t think you’d want Chinese food,” she said.

“I wanted you to have a good day.”

Penny looked at him, just looked for a second too long. Then she went back to her food. “It was. So far.”

Alex leaned back on one arm, watching her for another quiet beat.

He wanted to say I’m glad.
He wanted to say You look really happy tonight.
He wanted to say I like you like this.

But he didn’t. Instead, he bumped her knee with his.

“So what do I get you for your birthday, if not a kiss in front of three thousand people?”

She raised an eyebrow, still chewing. Then she swallowed, tilted her head slightly.

“I like books,” she said, teasing.

“Oh, come on. I already gave you two Jane Austens.”

She laughed. “You mean the ones Gunther didn’t take, so you gave them to me like it was some grand romantic gesture?”

He almost threw a spring roll at her.

She shrugged, a little amused, a little shy. “You don’t have to get me anything. You already paid for my tickets. Let me watch your game. Got the hotel room. I thought you said they didn’t pay you well.”

Alex nodded. The money was decent—enough to help his grandparents, enough to set a bit aside. He wasn’t rich, but still. He didn’t want Penny to spend a single penny with him. That was the thing.

As they finished eating, he caught the slight tension in her shoulders, the way she lingered near the bed but didn’t sit. It was late. The silence between them shifted. She was probably wondering if he’d stay the night.

They had rules. No sex. That was Penny’s boundary, and honestly? It wasn’t hard to keep. Not because Penny wasn’t beautiful; she was, really was. But tonight wasn’t about that. He was full of food, full of emotions, and not full of desire. It wasn’t tension he felt. It was something else entirely.

He faked a yawn, stretched. “I should probably head out.”

Her shoulders eased immediately, and she nodded, almost with relief. He ordered an Uber, and she walked him to the door of the hotel room.

Outside, she paused. “Someone’s watching.”

Alex glanced around casually. He didn’t see anyone, but Penny had sharper eyes than him. If she said so, she was probably right.

“You should kiss me goodbye,” she whispered, “probably.”

He didn’t hesitate. Earlier at the stadium, the kiss had happened fast, messy, adrenaline-fueled. At the movies, he hadn’t been able to do it—not really. It didn’t feel right.

But this… this was something else.

He leaned in and kissed her. A soft, prolonged peck. Gentle. Just long enough to mean something.

When he pulled back, he smiled. “Goodnight.”

Penny smiled too. Then, as the car pulled up, she turned around and went back inside.

Alex thought about her on the ride back.

And when he lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, he was still thinking about her.

[---]
Practice ran longer than usual.

Alex wiped the sweat from his brow with the hem of his shirt, breath heavy, arms burning from reps and drills. The sky outside the field had already gone golden, with shadows stretching toward the benches. Some of the guys were still messing around, half-hearted scrimmage, joking, stretching like they didn’t have a care in the world.

But Alex had pushed himself harder than usual. He had to. He wanted to.

He’d won last week. He’d kissed a girl. He wanted to keep winning.

“Yo, man, you done?” one of his teammates called out as Alex jogged off the field.

“Yeah,” he said, short of breath but grinning. “Gotta shower before I freeze out here.”

Inside the locker room, the water came out colder than it should. Alex didn’t care. He just scrubbed the sweat off his skin and got out in under ten minutes. Towel around his waist, he checked his phone out of habit. No new texts. He’d sent one to Penny that morning. Just a meme. She hadn’t replied yet.

He told himself not to read into it. People had lives. And maybe she didn’t think of him the way he’d started to think about her.

Clothed, bag slung over his shoulder, he made his way back to the hotel.

He almost didn’t notice the man waiting for him in the lobby.

“Alex.”

The voice was familiar in a vague, professional way. It made him pause near the vending machines.

Coach Rennings. A scout, maybe. From another city team.

Alex nodded politely, unsure. “Hey.”

“I’ve been watching your games,” the man said. “You're showing promise. Especially last Sunday.”

Alex stayed quiet, eyebrows raised.

“Listen,” Rennings continued, tone casual, “I’ll keep it short. We’re building a new lineup, and I think you’d fit right in. Bigger stage, better pay. You’d be working with seasoned players. Real stars.”

Alex shifted his weight to one leg, damp curls falling into his eyes. He brushed them back.

“Sounds like a hell of a deal.”

“It is.” The man smiled. “But it means travel. A lot of it. Off-season too. You’d be in the city full time. We’re not recruiting benchwarmers. We want commitment.”

Alex’s jaw tensed. He looked past the man, toward the glass doors. The streetlights outside had started to blink on.

Pelican Town felt far away already.

The man reached into his coat and handed Alex a card—white, plain, serious. Name, phone number, email.

“No pressure,” Rennings said. “Think about it. Call me if you’re interested.”

Alex stared down at the card after the man left. He didn't move.

The idea should’ve excited him. More money. More visibility. Real career stuff. But his stomach felt weird.

It would mean more games. More hotels. More time away from his grandparents.

Away from Penny.

He put the card in his back pocket and headed for the elevator.

“I’ll think about it,” he muttered.

Chapter 6: Mid-Fall

Penny didn’t expect him to show.

She’d told herself that a few times already, curled up on the couch in the museum’s back room, watching Elliott pour wine into little mismatched glasses. It was mid-fall, and the windows let in that kind of watery, gold-tinged light that made everything look a little older. A little lonelier.

Harvey had brought pumpkin cookies this time. Leah was flipping through her copy of the book, already halfway through rereading it. 

So Penny wasn’t really prepared when the door creaked open and Alex stepped inside.

Jacket half unzipped. A copy of Madame Bovary tucked under his arm. Hair still messy from whatever bus or car had brought him here. Eyes a little shadowed.

He looked tired. But happy. Somehow both.

She blinked. “You came?”

Alex gave her that easy, boyish smile. “Of course I did.”

She smiled back, but her throat felt tight.

He’d signed with a new team. She’d seen the headlines, and the photos. He was doing well; earning more, traveling more. The kind of life people dreamed about. The kind of life Penny had only read about in stories.

He had told her the new schedule meant staying in the city full-time.

So how was he here?

The last time she’d seen him, they'd shared noodles and laughter in a hotel room that didn’t smell like mold. He’d kissed her at the door, soft and quick, like it meant something. And she’d turned around and walked back inside with her heart unraveling.

She’d cried the next day.

Her mother had been passed out drunk on the couch, and Penny had buried her face in a pillow and cried until the sun rose. No one heard. No one ever did.

She felt pathetic.

Not because she missed him. Not really. She barely had him. They were only supposed to date for the season. One summer. One lie.

But it had been the first time in years she’d felt like she had a different life. Even if it was just for a weekend.

Going to the city had felt like breathing air from another world. No trailer. No stale beer smell. No careful tiptoeing around Pam’s moods. Just hotel sheets, crowded streets, and a boy who looked at her like she was worth being seen.

And then she got off the bus in Pelican Town, and it was like the air changed again. Like Yoba laughed in her face.

This is your life, Penny. This is what you get.

She tried to focus on the book club. On Harvey’s careful insights. On Elliott’s dramatic, near-theatrical reading of the final passage. She even tried to laugh when Leah muttered something sarcastic under her breath from the corner.

But she was aware of Alex.

Of his presence across the room. Of how he sat with one ankle balanced on a knee, his thumb rubbing the spine of the book absently. Of the way his leg bounced sometimes. Of how he leaned in to listen, even when he didn’t speak.

It had been almost half a year since they started talking.

Before that, he was just another boy in the village. Tall, loud, a little cocky. He used to throw the ball around in front of the saloon, all muscle and grin. She never thought he’d even noticed her.

Now he was something else. A presence, and somehow an absence too.

He was solid in her life; memories, photos, soft texts that made her cheeks warm. But not really there. Not always.

And still, she thought about him every day. Which felt like a betrayal. Of the rules they’d set. Of the way the world should work. She wasn’t supposed to care. Not like this.

Maybe they were becoming friends. That was allowed. Wasn’t it?

She’d never had many. Sam was kind to her in school, when he remembered. Elliott was thoughtful and gentle, and he never made her feel stupid for what she read or how she spoke. But mostly, she felt like she existed just on the edges of things.

Invisible.

Until Alex.

Alex didn’t treat her like she was invisible. Not when they were fake dating. And not, strangely, even after.

It felt like being sucked into a world that wasn’t meant for her. Where people looked at her, and saw something more than Pam’s daughter. More than a shy girl in a fading dress.

And still, she didn’t feel like she had the right to want any of it.

To want him.

(...)

After the book club wrapped, after Alex somehow made it through Madame Bovary with real opinions and a dog-eared copy to prove it, Penny walked with him back toward her trailer. The night was cool, quiet, save for the rustle of leaves underfoot.

“So,” she asked, glancing sideways at him, “how did you manage to come back? Thought the new team had you full-time.”

“They wanted me bad enough to negotiate,” Alex said with a little smirk. “I asked to come back to Pelican twice a season. They agreed.”

Penny blinked. “Twice a season? You negotiated that?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged, casual, though she could hear something proud underneath. “Worth it.”

Before she could figure out what to say next, he added, “Hey, you wanna have dinner? I mean, since I’m here.”

She hesitated, but only for a second. He’d leave again tomorrow, and the ache of that was already blooming behind her ribs. “Okay.”

They went to his grandparents’ house. Evelyn welcomed her with open arms and warm food: Tom Kha soup, creamy and fragrant, with a plate of cooked cave carrots and winter roots beside it.

Penny blinked at the spread.

“I did research,” Alex leaned in to whisper, grinning as Evelyn set the table.

George grumbled throughout the meal, about being forbidden from using salt, about arm exercises Harvey had prescribed. Alex laughed, and Penny did too, soft and honest. She allowed herself to feel at home. Just for now.

After dinner, Alex grabbed a plastic bag from the coat rack. He carried it the whole walk back to her trailer. When they reached her door, she turned toward him to say goodbye.

“Thanks,” she said. “For dinner. And for…”

He handed her the bag. Inside was a jacket. Navy and gold, the colors of his new team. His name stitched over the heart. His number printed big across the back.

“It’s a gift,” Alex said, scratching the back of his neck. “A little oversized.”

Penny smiled, cradling it to her chest. The fabric still smelled like new clothes.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice soft. Then she hugged him.

It wasn’t dramatic or long, but it was real.

Inside, she heard the distinct crack of a beer can opening. Her mother, in the living room.

Penny closed her eyes. Still holding the jacket close, she walked to her room without saying a word.

And tried to pretend, just for a while, that reality wasn’t knocking on the other side of her door.

Chapter 7: Late Fall

Notes:

so… i have a sacred posting ritual: to update this fic on the 3rd, 13th, and 23rd of the month. perfectly symmetrical. beautiful. satisfying.

and then i forgot yesterday.

which means… this fic was posted on the 4th.

THE. FOURTH.
the vibes are ruined 😩

please forgive me for breaking the sacred math. normal (numerically pleasing) service will resume on the 13th. probably. hopefully. unless the number 4 gets me again

(haha i'm totally not losing my mind over this dumb thing :D
anyway. enjoy the chapter <3)

Alex leaned against the window of the bus, watching the golds and browns of the countryside blur past as dusk fell. It was almost 6 PM. The sky was streaked violet and red. The book open on his lap had fallen a little askew; Legends of the Game: Ten Athletes Who Changed History.

He turned another page.
He’d actually finished that tennis novel Penny gave him. Cover to cover. No skipping chapters. It surprised him, the way it stuck with him. Maybe it was because the story was about more than just sports. Maybe it was because Penny had given it to him.

So now he was trying a real one. A sports biography. Less romance. More facts. But still something to keep his head grounded.

He made it to Pelican just after 7, hugged Evelyn the second he stepped inside, and traded stats with George over the kitchen table while eating warm stew. He took a shower, changed into something simple: dark jeans, a long-sleeve shirt, his jacket zipped only halfway. Around 10, they all headed down to the Spirit’s Eve festival together.

Lanterns floated above the square. Fog machines puffed in intervals. The hedge maze stretched into the night with its usual mix of mystery and mild hazard.

Alex barely noticed any of it.

Because across the town square, Penny was sitting on a bench, gently braiding Jas’s hair. Vincent sat beside her with a brightly illustrated book.
“Miss Penny, look!” the boy said, holding the page up to her face. “This bug is blue!”
Penny laughed, soft and clear. “You’re right. That’s a blue weevil beetle. Good eye, Vincent.”

Alex’s chest tightened.
He watched her; not just the shape of her in the lantern light, not just the soft way her hair curled around her scarf, but the way she leaned in to answer Vincent, the way her fingers worked through Jas’s hair so gently.

He remembered, stupidly, how he once tried to write poetry. Fresh out of high school. Full of dumb feelings and nowhere to put them.
The poem was awful. He’d crumpled the paper and tossed it.

But something about Penny, just being around her, made him want to try again.

He felt safe with her. That was the word for it. Safe, and seen, and...
God, he didn’t even know how to say it.

“You’ve got it bad.”

The voice made him flinch.
He turned to see Haley beside him, arms crossed, a knowing look on her face.

He blinked. “What?”

Haley just nodded toward the bench. “Penny. You’re looking at her like she hung the moon.”

Alex rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure what to say, so he just shrugged, trying for casual, failing miserably.
“She’s just... unreal.”

Haley smiled faintly. Touched his arm in a way that didn’t bother him anymore.
“That’s how I feel about Leah,” she said. Her voice was quieter now. More honest. “I had doubts, before. About everything. But I think you two look cute together. I’m glad.”

Alex could’ve laughed. Or cursed. Or said, You have no idea how wrong you are.
He could’ve told her this whole thing started as a lie. A cover story. A media distraction.

But instead, all he did was look back at Penny.

 He didn’t know how fake it was anymore.

(...)

She was finishing the last loop of Jas’s braid when Alex walked up. Penny looked up at him, half-expecting him to be surrounded by his grandparents. Instead, it was just him. Hands in his jacket pockets. Soft smile on his face.

“You three want to grab a burger from Gus?” he asked.

Vincent shouted “Yes!” before Penny could say anything.

Alex offered a hand to the boy, and they all followed him toward the fountain.

The path was lined with candles. Ghost decorations hung from the trees, swaying slightly in the cold wind. Jas kept close to Penny, and Penny’s hands stayed warm around the girl’s shoulders.

She watched Alex as he walked ahead with Vincent. He was asking questions about the book Vincent had brought, something about a beetle that could fly and spit acid.

“You know,” Alex said, crouching beside the boy, “some dinosaurs had feathers. I read that somewhere. Like, tiny feathers.”

Vincent gasped. “No way.”

“I mean,” Alex said, ruffling his hair, “I wasn’t there, but yeah. Science stuff.”

Then he looked back at Jas.

“Your hair looks amazing, by the way.”

Jas didn’t say anything, but Penny saw her cheeks flush. She ducked her head, the same way Penny had, once, when Alex had said something kind.

Jas was so young. So clever. So full of quiet fire.
At seven, she already stood her ground better than Penny ever had.

At twenty-three, Penny still felt small most of the time.

They reached the fountain, where Gus was handing out free burgers. The air smelled like grilled onions and garlic. Warm and familiar.

Gus was mid-conversation with Caroline, something about spiced tea for the holidays. But he paused when he saw them approach.

“Hey, Alex,” Gus said, handing him a burger. “Kids.”

Vincent and Jas got theirs.
Then Gus turned to Penny.

He gave her a burger with a half-smile. “Got a few more saved up for you and your mom, by the way. Just come by after the festival. Could toss ’em in the freezer, y’know, help stock up for winter.”

Penny froze.
She nodded, weakly. Took the burger. Tried to smile.

But something about it stung.
The way Gus said it like she couldn’t feed herself. Like she was a case, not a person.

Before she could say anything, Alex’s voice cut in.

“She’s good, Gus,” he said, calm but firm. “She doesn’t need your charity.”

Gus blinked. “I didn’t mean it like—”

“You did,” Alex said. Still friendly. Still smiling. But the edge in his voice was unmistakable.
“And maybe stop assuming she needs help just ’cause of where she lives.”

Penny’s fingers clenched tighter around the wax paper.

“She can speak for herself, too,” Alex added, gently nudging her with his elbow. “Right?”

Penny swallowed. Her throat was dry.

“Right,” she said. Her voice came out smaller than she wanted.

Gus just muttered something and went back to his conversation.

They left the fountain, walking in silence. They didn’t go far, just past the hedge maze, near the benches under the maple trees. The paper lanterns cast soft glows along the grass.

Penny didn’t say anything.
But her eyes stung. And not from the cold.

From something older. Deeper. Something that curled up in her chest when people treated her like she was less than a person.

She sat down on the bench beside Alex. Jas and Vincent chased each other nearby, unbothered.

“You okay?” he asked, quiet.

Penny nodded.
And then, after a pause, “Thank you.”

Alex shrugged like it was nothing. Like it hadn’t made her want to cry.

She didn’t.
Not there.

But she clutched the burger in her lap and blinked hard, hoping the tears would stop before anyone noticed.

(...)

It was almost midnight by the time they reached the halfway point inside the maze. The jack-o'-lanterns were still flickering, casting orange shadows along the path. Vincent was rubbing his eyes now, dragging his feet a little. Jas still walked with her chin high, but Alex could tell, her steps were slower, her posture sagging.

He crouched a bit beside them. “Think maybe it’s time we head back?”

“But the golden pumpkin,” Vincent mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. “We didn’t find it yet.”

Alex looked at Penny.

She was already kneeling down, her long skirt tucked neatly beneath her. She reached out and gently touched Vincent’s shoulder.
“It’s really late,” she said softly. “And maybe someone already found it this year. That’s okay. We’ll try again next time.”

Vincent’s lower lip trembled. He sniffed. “I didn’t want it anyway.”
Then he took her hand.

Outside the maze, Marnie and Jodi were chatting, bundled in scarves and holding coffee cups. Jodi came to take Vincent home. Marnie gave Jas a hug before guiding her back toward the ranch.

And then it was just the two of them.
Alone. Again.

Penny sighed, rubbing her arms as if the night air had finally reached her skin.

“I’ll walk you home,” Alex said. “Spirits’ Eve and all. Don’t want any monsters grabbing you.”

She chuckled. “Oh no, not the paper ghosts.”

Alex offered her his hand. “You know. Boyfriend’s duty.”

Penny hesitated, just for a second.
Then her fingers slipped into his.

They started walking, quietly, following the path that led through the woods. The leaves crunched beneath their shoes. Their hands stayed linked, swinging just slightly with each step.

“I didn’t like what Gus said,” Alex murmured after a while.

Penny’s shoulders lifted, then dropped again with another sigh.

“He meant well,” she said. “They usually do.”

They passed the bridge. The lights from the town were faint now, flickering like distant stars.

“I know winter’s hard,” Penny added. Her voice was quiet. Honest. “The cold gets in the trailer. And I know people know that. I just wish they wouldn’t treat me like I’m going to break. I’m not.”

Alex didn’t say anything at first. Just held her hand tighter.
He hadn’t really thought about it before, not deeply. The way winter might feel inside those thin trailer walls. The way the cold might sink into her bones, night after night.

But now he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

And Penny deserved warmth.

They reached the trailer steps. Penny let go of his hand slowly, almost reluctantly.
She smiled at him, soft and tired. “Thanks for walking me back.”

Alex nodded.
His mind was somewhere else already.

Somewhere between a thought and a plan.

“Night,” he said, backing away.
But the last line sat with him, solid and certain. He had an idea.

Notes:

(still losing my mind over the cursed 4th)
i hope you didn't mind the pov shift, and the changes i did ;; i know in-game canon, Gus' free burgers happens during the Fair, but i thought it would fit better during Spirit's Eve

Chapter 8: Early Winter

Notes:

(if you think i got anxious to publish this on the right day and waited until midnight just to be sure you're correct)

enjoy this somewhat long chapter

The first real snow had just started to stick when Alex stepped off the bus in Pelican Town. The cold bit through his gloves and turned his breath visible, curling into the quiet sky like smoke. It was early morning, and the town was mostly still, roofs frosted, footsteps soft against the ground.

Two days. That’s all he needed.

He stopped by his grandparents’ house first, kissed Evelyn’s cheek, promised to bring her new tea from the city next time, and ducked out before George could ask too many questions.

Robin was already in her workshop when he got there, the heat from the furnace pouring out in steady waves. She looked up and smiled when she saw him.

“I figured this wasn’t a social visit,” she said, wiping her hands on her tool belt.

Alex pulled a folded paper from his pocket. The design he’d scribbled, dimensions he wasn’t totally sure were realistic. “I want to build a house,” he said. “For Penny. A real one. It doesn’t have to be big. Just… warm. Safe.”

Robin’s eyebrows rose, but she didn’t laugh. Instead, she took the paper, read it carefully, and nodded.

“It’s a noble thing you’re doing,” she said. “And subtle, huh? You want it to be a surprise?”

“Yeah. She can’t know. I just… I need her out of town for a few days. A week tops.”

Robin glanced at her calendar, then the snow outside. “Should take about that long, weather allowing. I’ll get my team on it.”

Alex breathed out, his shoulders relaxing a little. “Thanks. Really.”

Robin smiled. “You’re doing good, Alex.”

(...)

By mid-afternoon, he was at Penny’s trailer.

Her cheeks were flushed from the cold when she opened the door, and she looked like she hadn’t expected to see him. She stepped back to let him in, and the cold followed him inside for a second before the door shut again.

He sat at her little table while she made tea. The warmth of the space, despite its peeling edges and old radiator, still felt like her; neat, thoughtful, soft.

“So,” he started. “I was thinking…”
She turned, eyes expectant.
“I could really use some company. Just for a week. City’s too quiet after games. I thought maybe you’d come with me.”

Penny blinked.

He kept talking, carefully, gently. “We could ask Shane to bring Jas too. I bet the kids would like to see a game. Real close this time.”

He watched her carefully; how she shifted her weight from one leg to the other, how her hands curled around the mug, how she bit her lip. Thinking. Pondering.

Alex knew this was a big ask. She didn’t just leave. Not for long. Her whole life was tied to this place.

“I just…” he leaned forward. “I just need you with me. Just for a week.”

There was a long pause. Then she nodded.

“Okay,” she said softly. “I guess it makes sense. That’s what a girlfriend would do.”

Alex smiled. Something small and relieved.
He reached out, just barely touching her fingers over the table. “Everything’s gonna work out fine,” he said.

And for the first time in days, he believed it.

[---]

They caught the bus on Sunday morning, bundled up in coats and scarves, breath clouding the cold air as they climbed the steps side by side. Penny carried a modest canvas bag, probably packed carefully the night before, and Alex had slung his duffel over his shoulder. Their boots scuffed against the wet pavement, the sky still gray with sleep.

The ride was quiet at first, both of them watching the landscape shift from pine to concrete. Penny eventually rested her head against the window, eyes half-closed, and Alex watched the way the light caught the copper strands of her hair. She didn’t seem uneasy. That was good. He wanted her to feel safe.

He told her again about the Friday game, how Shane agreed to come, how he even cracked a smile—well, sort of. Shane’s version of “happy” looked more like a grunted “yeah, sure,” but Alex could tell he meant it. And Jas lit up at the mention of watching a real game.

Alex had expected Penny to seem nervous, but she just nodded thoughtfully.

“It’ll be good for them,” she said. “Something they’ll never forget.”

By the time they arrived in the city, the sun was already dipping low behind the buildings. The air smelled like snow and bus fumes and something greasy from the food cart on the corner. Alex led the way to the place he’d reserved: a decent, quiet hotel not far from the stadium.

Inside the room, Penny set her bag down, then looked at the two beds and nodded with a small smile.

“Separate rooms would’ve been weirder, right?” she said, using air quotes. “Since we’re dating.”

Alex chuckled, running a hand through his hair to hide the warmth crawling up his neck.

“Right. Totally. Would’ve raised eyebrows.”

Penny didn’t say anything else, just sat down on the edge of her bed and leaned back slowly. Her arms stretched out over the comforter, and then she lay down fully, closing her eyes with a soft exhale.

Alex tried not to stare, but something about the sight of her—finally letting herself relax, her shoulders no longer hunched, her features peaceful—made his chest tighten. He looked away, not trusting whatever weird flutter was building in his stomach.

They didn’t do much that first day. Sunday turned into evening, and neither of them felt like exploring. Instead, they ordered in: noodles and dumplings from a small place around the block.

Alex pulled out his wallet when the food arrived, but Penny stopped him with a raised eyebrow.

“We should split.”

He blinked. “I said I’d pay, Penny.”

“I know,” she said, calm but firm. “But I have money too. From tutoring. I’m not… I don’t want you to act like I need charity.”

The word hit like a soft slap. Not loud, but sharp.
Alex’s shoulders stiffened. “Sorry,” he said after a beat. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know,” she replied, her voice gentler now. “But I have to say it anyway.”

He nodded, handing her half the bill without arguing again.

They ate on the bed; him cross-legged, her with the food tray on her lap. The TV played something forgettable in the background, and neither of them really watched. Penny finished her dumplings and set the tray aside, curling up under the covers in her bed with a book she’d brought.

Alex lay back in his own bed, arms folded behind his head, pretending to watch the ceiling.

He kept sneaking glances at her, though. The way the lamplight fell across her cheeks. The way she seemed at ease here, even in a city that wasn’t hers. Something about that made his chest ache in a way he didn’t have words for.

When she finally closed her book and reached over to turn off the lamp, the room fell into a soft, velvety darkness.

Alex turned onto his side, facing the faint outline of her across the room.

“Hey, Penny?” he said quietly.

She hummed in response.

“Thanks for coming.”

There was a pause. Then:

“You’re welcome.”

[---]

The hotel room smelled like clean sheets and takeout spices, faint hints of Penny’s citrus shampoo clinging to the air. They fell into a rhythm quickly, as if this quiet, shared space had always been theirs.

Each morning, Alex left early for practice. He’d tug on his jacket, lace his sneakers tight, throw a quick smile over his shoulder as Penny sat on the bed, legs tucked under her, already reading something with her usual quiet focus.

“You don’t have to wait around for me all day,” he said on Monday, grabbing his duffel.
“I know,” Penny had replied. “But I want to.”

Something in the way she said it made his chest feel light and tight at the same time.

At the stadium, practice was the usual: drills, sprints, lifting. His body moved on autopilot, but his mind kept drifting; back to the way she’d tucked her hair behind her ear that morning, or how she laughed with her whole face when the hotel water pressure surprised her.

When he turned during water breaks, sometimes she was there, tucked into a seat far from the noise, cross-legged with a paperback in her lap. She wasn’t watching him constantly, but every now and then, their eyes met across the court. She’d smile, small and soft, and something would twist low in his stomach.

Why did that little smile mean more to him than a roaring crowd?

He tried not to think too hard about it. Just ran faster. Lifted more. Focused harder.

Evenings were quiet. Perfect.

After showers and food, they’d settle in to watch a movie, usually something Penny picked. Romcoms with cozy lighting and slightly absurd plots. On Monday, it was a winter-themed one with a snowed-in cabin. Tuesday, a bookstore romance. Wednesday, something about pen pals.

Alex flopped on his bed after the third one, groaning.

“I’m gaining so much fake boyfriend knowledge right now. This is basically training camp.”

Penny laughed. “You’re welcome.”

But beneath the joke, Alex found himself watching her more than the screen. The way she curled under the blanket, always folding the corner near her chin. The way her eyes shone during the sentimental moments. The way she mouthed along to some of the lines; she’d seen these before.

He didn’t say anything. But every night, he liked being next to her more than he expected. Not just because she was kind. Not just because she was pretty.

It was the way she saw him.

Not as an athlete. Not as a project. Not as someone broken needing fixing.
Just… Alex.

And he didn’t know how to say it, but he wanted her to keep seeing him like that. He wanted to earn it.

As the credits rolled and the screen went dark, Penny turned to him with a tired smile.

“I like these days. They feel simple.”

Alex looked at her in the glow of the bedside lamp, and his heart did that thing again.

“Me too,” he said, voice quiet.
But he didn’t just like them. He needed them.

Needed her, more than he thought someone like him ever could.

And when the light went out, and the quiet of the city crept into their room like a blanket, he lay in the dark and just listened to her breathe across the space between them.

[---]

Alex stared down at his phone, rereading the message from Robin for the third time.

“Halfway done! Pam hasn’t figured it out. Lewis' cover worked. She barely looked at the frame.
Still on track. Should be done in a week! :)”

He grinned, wide, unstoppable. It was happening. Really happening.

His chest buzzed with a quiet, bubbling kind of joy. He leaned back on the bed, tossing the phone beside him and staring at the ceiling like he might burst from the secret.

The house was going up. Penny had no idea. And she was going to have something of her own, something safe, warm, something better.

He got up, practically bouncing as he crossed the room. She was reading by the window, legs tucked under her like always, a strand of hair slipping loose over her cheek.

“Hey,” he said, trying and failing to sound casual. “Wanna go out for a bit? I’ve got something in mind.”

Penny looked up, curious. “Out?”

“Nothing fancy,” he lied, too quickly. “Well. A little fancy. Just… wear something nice?”

Her eyebrow lifted. “Okay…”
But she smiled.

(...)

The bookstore was her idea of magic.

The moment they stepped in, Penny’s whole posture shifted: her shoulders relaxed, her hands slowed, her eyes softened with wonder. She drifted away from him like she was walking underwater, fingertips brushing gently along the spines of novels, pausing every now and then to tilt her head and smile at a title.

Alex followed behind quietly, not interrupting.

He didn’t get it, not really. But watching her move like that, like the books were old friends, like the whole room was humming with something important… it made his throat tighten.

She picked up a slim poetry collection and turned the pages like they were delicate things.

“This one’s about winter,” she said. “But not the cold kind. The kind where everything slows down, but not in a bad way.”

Alex nodded, even if he didn’t know what she meant. He watched her read a few more lines, her brow furrowed in concentration, and felt something warm pulse in his chest.

(...)

Later that night, they went to a cozy, dimly lit restaurant just a few blocks from the hotel.

Penny wore a dark green dress; simple, but soft and flowing. It made her look like she belonged in a painting, or a quiet forest. Alex had combed his hair twice, changed his shirt three times before finally settling on the one that didn’t smell like gym bag.

They sat across from each other, candlelight flickering between them. The food was better than anything Alex usually ate during season. Penny was quiet at first, looking around, soaking in the music and ambiance like it was something precious.

“This place is beautiful,” she finally said, voice soft. “You didn’t have to go all out.”

Alex rubbed the back of his neck. “I wanted to. Just thought… y’know. You deserve it.”

Penny blinked, then gave him the smallest smile. “Thank you, Alex.”

He smiled back, suddenly unsure what to do with his hands.

"You always thank me like I just saved your life or something."

She laughed; quiet, but real. “That’s because I don’t get taken to nice places very often.”

That made his stomach turn in a way he didn’t like.
He wanted to say something—to promise she’d have more than just this night —but his throat felt tight. So he just nodded and made a vow silently instead.

By dessert, her eyes were glowing again. Not from the food or the place, but from how seen she looked. Like someone had finally told her she belonged here.

Alex didn’t know much about poetry. Or fine dining. But he knew this feeling—the one that made him sit up straighter when she smiled, the one that made him want to earn it, keep it, hold it tight.

She made everything feel like it mattered.

[---]

The stadium was loud. The court echoed with squeaking shoes, the thud of the ball hitting hardwood, the sharp whistles that cut the air in quick bursts.

But Alex wasn’t hearing most of it.

They were two points ahead. The game was tight. His lungs burned, his body dripped with sweat, and his muscles were pushing against exhaustion—but still, his eyes flicked toward the bleachers every time he had a second.

He knew where she was. Couldn’t stop looking.

It wasn’t even the noise that helped him spot them—though Shane was yelling like the ref owed him money. It was her. Penny. Sitting just a few rows behind the barrier, beside Shane, Jas in her lap, Vincent standing and half-bouncing in excitement.

Penny clapped, smiling wide, her face lit up in a way that made Alex’s chest stutter.
If Shane hadn’t been so damn loud, she’d be the only thing he saw.

He forced his focus back onto the court.

One more play. Just one.

When the final whistle blew, it was like the whole gym cracked open.

The scoreboard blinked: Home: 68. Away: 66.

His teammates yelled, rushed toward each other—slaps on backs, sweaty hugs, hollers into the rafters. Alex was pulled into the celebration automatically, arms thrown around shoulders, bodies jostling.

But his eyes—his mind—were already moving somewhere else.

He jogged toward the bleachers. The closer he got, the more real it felt: this was his world crashing into hers. And there she was, standing now, her hands together, her smile soft but so bright it made everything else blur.

“Not bad, huh?” he said, breath still short, grinning like an idiot.

Shane gave him a once-over. “Your defense’s a little sloppy. But yeah, not bad.”

Vincent tugged on his arm. “You were SO COOL, Alex! I thought that guy was gonna catch you, but you turned so fast—like whoosh! And Jas was cheering too, right Jas?”

Jas nodded solemnly. “You run like a horse.”

Alex laughed. “Uh… thanks?”

Penny didn’t say anything right away. She just looked at him— really looked —and he couldn’t tell if her eyes were more proud or more fond, but he knew either would knock him flat.

“You played well,” she finally said, and her voice was warm. Quiet. For him, not the crowd.

If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was actually his girlfriend.

His heart skipped.

(...)

Back at the hotel, everything slowed.

Penny kicked off her shoes and flopped onto the bed with a soft sigh. Alex grabbed the room service menu and they went back and forth for a bit—nothing too fancy, just something warm, something easy.

While they waited, she changed into sleep clothes. Alex did the same, slipping into a clean shirt, running a towel over his still-damp hair. They ate on the bed, shoulders bumping occasionally, the TV playing some sitcom neither of them were watching.

When the food was gone and the trays were pushed aside, they stayed there, lying down in silence.

Penny shifted to face him. The sheets rustled. Her hair spilled across the pillow like silk.

Alex’s heart beat too fast. Too loud.

She was close. Not close enough to touch, but enough that he could see the slow rise and fall of her breathing. The small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. The way her lashes looked longer in the dim light.

He swallowed.

“I…” His voice came out quieter than he meant. “I’m glad you came.”

She looked at him—really looked, again. “Me too.”

Silence settled in again. Their legs weren’t touching, but they could have been. Just a little shift and—

His hand moved without thinking. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached up and brushed the back of his fingers along her cheek.

Her skin was soft. Warmer than he expected.

Penny didn’t flinch. Her eyes stayed on his, wide and calm and unreadable.

He wanted to kiss her.

Not a pretend kiss. Not a peck on the cheek for the sake of the act. Not something they’d laugh about later.

He wanted her lips against his, slow and real. Wanted to taste her, maybe feel her hand on the back of his neck. Wanted to stop pretending.

But that would be against the rules.

His fingers dropped away.

“I should go,” he said, his voice a little rough. “To my own bed.”

Penny looked at him for a moment longer. There was something in her eyes—a shift. He didn’t know what it meant. But she nodded.

“Okay.”

The air felt cold when he pulled back the covers on the other bed. He lay on his side, facing her back. The silence between them now wasn’t tense… but it wasn’t easy either.

She was right there. But the distance stretched out like a mile.

His fingers still tingled from where they’d touched her cheek. The scent of her shampoo—citrusy and clean—lingered in the pillow he’d left behind.

He shut his eyes and tried to sleep.

But her warmth—the idea of her warmth—stayed close.
Even after his breath evened out.
Even after the lights went dark.

[---]

Alex woke to the buzzing of his phone, face half-buried in a pillow that still smelled faintly like Penny. For a second, he stayed like that—eyes closed, chest full of something he didn’t quite know how to name.

The screen lit up again. A text from Robin.

 “House is finished! Pam’s too hungover to notice anything. Still holding the line. Hope you’re ready.”

Alex grinned to himself. Ready? He’d been waiting for this all week.

(...)

By late morning, they were all crammed into the bus. Shane sat stiffly near the front, arms crossed like he had a personal vendetta against public transport. The kids had taken the two seats behind him and were playing a guessing game that mostly involved Vincent making up the rules. Penny sat beside Alex. Their shoulders touched every time the bus turned.

He liked it.

The bus hummed steadily along the road, trees blurring past the windows. Penny had a book closed on her lap, thumb tucked between the pages like she might return to it. She leaned toward him slightly as the town’s familiar outline came into view.

“Feels weird coming back,” she murmured. “Like we were gone for months, not a week.”

Alex smiled faintly. “Yeah.”

“Did your grandma say how things were at home?” Penny asked.

“Yeah,” he said quickly. “Said the usual. Cold nights. Missed me yelling at the TV.”

She chuckled, a soft sound that made something inside him settle.

The bus turned down the road toward the center of town, the landscape familiar and yet changed by distance. As they neared the stop by the saloon, Alex sat forward in his seat, suddenly alert.

“Hey,” he said, nudging her gently. “Can you help me carry something after we get off? Just—there’s something I want to show you.”

Penny blinked at him, puzzled but agreeable. “Of course.”

(...)

The moment the bus rolled to a stop, Alex’s pulse picked up.

He helped Jas down first, then Vincent. Shane followed, muttering something about his knees. Penny stepped out last, eyes blinking at the sun, hair catching a bit of wind.

“Come on,” Alex said. “You’ve got to see this.”

They cut across the path near the saloon, passing between Evelyn’s garden and the trailer that used to be Penny’s whole world.

And there it was.

The house.
Nestled between the trailer and the riverbank like it had always belonged there.

The wooden cabin stood with proud simplicity—orange-toned planks warm against the sunlight, steep green roof catching in the breeze. A small circular window peered from under the eaves like an eye, centered above a soft green door. A wind chime tinkled gently on the porch, near a hanging flower basket already in bloom.

Robin met them halfway, proud as ever. “Used cedar for the siding—smells great when it rains. And that roof’s solid for the valley storms. I tried to pick wallpaper I thought she’d like. Got some custom shelves in there too; figured you’d want books everywhere, right?”

Penny nodded, polite. “It’s lovely. Thank you. Really.”

Pam and Mayor Lewis showed up near the porch. Pam had a cigarette half-lit in one hand and a deep scowl on her face. Lewis adjusted his tie, then cleared his throat in that way he did when he was about to say something long-winded and self-important.

“I have to say,” Lewis began, his voice puffed with ceremony, “this is a truly noble gesture, Alex. Giving a hardworking family like Penny and Pam a second chance—some stability—it’s admirable. A real show of community values.”

Pam snorted, dragging from her cigarette.

“Guess even dumb jocks can be saints these days,” she muttered. “Still not sure why the kid went and threw money at this dump.”

Alex’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t say anything. He felt Penny go still beside him.

She took a few steps forward, her boots crunching over the frost-dusted gravel, and turned slowly toward the cabin that now sat nestled between her old trailer and the bend of the river.

“You really did it,” Penny whispered.

Alex turned fully to face her. His chest felt tight, almost too tight to breathe. He’d waited for this moment. Thought about it all week.

He imagined her eyes lighting up, her voice catching with emotion, her hands flying to her mouth in awe. Maybe she'd even tear up, hug him, whisper something he wouldn’t forget.

But instead… she smiled.

Not the right kind.
Not the one that reached her eyes.

It was small. Polite. Careful. Controlled, like she was trying to be grateful, even if she didn’t know how.

And Alex knew better.
He’d seen her real smiles—those wide, slightly crooked ones that broke open like morning sun through leaves. This wasn’t that.

His heart dropped a notch.

She was faking it.

Alex clenched his jaw. Penny murmured something and walked toward the front door.

He followed her inside, heart still sitting heavy in his chest. The scent of fresh wood and new paint clung to the air.

The golden kitchen tiles caught the light first. The wooden flooring was smooth, warm, and clean underfoot. A black couch faced three windows glowing with soft yellow daylight. To its right, a stone fireplace sat like a promise of warmth. The long dining table, already set—plates of bread, salad, drinks. Five pink stools tucked in neatly.

A row of tall potted plants framed the eating area. Alive. Vibrant. Hopeful.

“We even put in a spot for a cat,” Robin said. She motioned toward the dish corner, the bench, the little bowls lined up. “You know, in case you get one.”

Penny smiled again. It was better than before. But still… measured.

She wandered through the rooms. Into the kitchen. Touched the counters.
He trailed behind her like a ghost.

Penny’s room was exactly how he’d imagined for her: purple floral wallpaper, shelves full of books, beige quilt folded just right. A little writing desk with fresh pencils. A soft red chair.

He leaned in the doorway, watching her look around. She ran her fingers over the spine of a book. One she probably already owned.

Robin kept talking from the hallway—something about wiring, or maybe insulation. But Penny wasn’t really listening. And Alex could see that now.

This wasn’t the reaction he’d dreamed about. He thought she’d feel… free. Cozy. Safe. Maybe even his, in some unspoken way.

Instead, she looked like she was trying to fit herself into someone else’s idea of home.

“I wanted it to be nice,” he said, softly.

Penny turned to him.

There was no anger on her face. No disappointment.
Just something else. Something quieter. Harder to reach.

“It is nice,” she said gently. “Thank you. I know how much effort you and Robin put into it.”

Robin stepped back from the doorway, brushing sawdust from her sleeves.

“Well,” she said with a satisfied sigh, “I’ll let you two settle in. You’ve got a good spot here. Strong insulation, plenty of storage, and that riverside view? Dreamy.”

Lewis gave a nod, a self-important smile on his face.

“Pam, Penny—Alex really went out of his way to make this happen. You’re lucky to have someone so generous in your corner.”

Pam just grunted, already halfway through rummaging the fridge for booze.

“If this fridge ain’t stocked, it’s not a real house,” she muttered.

Robin gave Alex’s shoulder a parting squeeze, then she and Lewis stepped out, their footsteps crunching down the path until they faded into town.

Alex lingered in the warm hush that followed. The yellow light from the windows bathed the house in gold. The wood still smelled fresh, like sap and sawdust and something new. Penny stood just past the kitchen now, her back to him, silent as she looked at the study nook with the twin desks.

He stepped toward her, slowly, cautiously, and reached for her hand.

She pulled away.

Not sharply, not cruelly—just enough.
Enough that he felt it like a sting.

Her eyes flicked toward him, and he saw it then—beneath the quiet, beneath her careful posture.

Hurt.

He swallowed, voice tight.

“Did I—did you hate it?”

Penny blinked, like she’d just remembered he was there.

“I didn’t ask for this,” she said, her voice low, shaking. “You had no right to do this for me. I never wanted you to pity me.”

Alex felt the words hit, a chill under his skin.

“It wasn’t—this wasn’t pity.”

“No?” she asked, bitter now. “Because that’s what it feels like.”

Pam clinked a few bottles behind them, finally settling into the couch with a long sigh and a muttered curse.

Penny stepped further into the house, turning only halfway toward Alex now. Her eyes shimmered, unshed tears caught in her lashes.

“You said it yourself back in fall. Remember? You called Gus out for assuming I needed charity. And I—” her voice cracked. “I believed you. I thought you understood. But you did the same thing, Alex. You treated me like a problem you needed to solve. Like I was some... sad, poor girl who needed rescuing.”

Alex felt his stomach twist.

“No. That’s not it. I just—I care about you. I wanted you to have something warm. Something safe. For the winters and the—”

“You wanted to fix something,” she snapped. Her voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the warmth of the house like cold air through a crack in the door. “You liked the idea of saving me. Because you couldn’t save your mom.”

Silence dropped like a weight.

Alex took a step back. Her words echoed in his chest like a struck bell, vibrating down to his bones.
It felt like being slapped. Like something twisting deep in his gut and refusing to stop.

“Penny…”

But she didn’t let him speak.

“Please go, Alex.”

He stood there for a moment longer, the words catching on his tongue, the house he built around them suddenly too full of air.

Then he turned and walked out.

The door clicked closed behind him.

Somehow, he’d done everything right.
And somehow, it still felt wrong.

Notes:

wow, almost 5k!
thanks for reading it! i hope you liked this chapter <3 feel free to leave a kudos and a comment

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 7 of farmerless
• Part 8 of lesbian haley
• Part 17 of sapphic