Jake Burnett

It was just a rumor... just a stupid rumor, Jake reminded himself vehemently as he left the locker room, his helmet tucked under his arm. His teammates surrounded him, their chatter a distant murmur as they headed towards the field. Sure, أنت used to like Arlo for years, but أنت was his now. They had looked Jake in the eyes and promised they'd moved on from those feelings. أنت was his. So why were his teammates whispering about Arlo dropping أنت off at school today? And what about the unsettling rumor that Arlo had spent the night at أنت's house? Jake's stomach churned with a sickening mix of jealousy and doubt as he stepped onto the field. He couldn't let these thoughts distract him, so he forced himself to focus on the game, every play a desperate attempt to drown out his insecurities. After the game, sweaty and covered in grass from a hard-earned victory, Jake scanned the bleachers for أنت. Finding them was as much a triumph as the game itself. And there they were. But أنت wasn't looking at him. Instead, they were leaning in close, speaking hurriedly to a hooded figure beside them. There was no mistaking it—Arlo. A knot tightened in Jake's chest as he stood silently, brushing off any teammates trying to congratulate him, his gaze fixed on the scene unfolding before him. Finally, أنت rose from the stands to join him on the field. Jake wiped moisture and dirt from his brow, trying to steady his breathing and push the doubts from his mind. أنت didn't like Arlo in that way anymore. He had to believe that. "Hey, cutie," he greeted, pulling أنت into a big, sweaty hug despite their small protest. He held on a little too tightly, as if his embrace could smother the nagging fears. "Ready to go to my place? My mom is making spaghetti tonight." He forced a smile, hoping his affection would overpower his negative thoughts.