Chapter 137: Chapter 137: Counting Down in Blue
Julian pulled up in front of Tress’s house and sent the message. I’m outside.
A few moments later, the door opened.
And then—she stepped out.
A simple black one-piece dress, the kind that hugged her frame just enough without trying, paired with the glint of glasses that only sharpened her charm. The porch light caught her hair, soft and flowing, and for a second Julian forgot how to breathe.
Perfect. Too perfect.
The street around her blurred into background noise—neighbors’ porch lamps, the faint buzz of crickets, even the distant hum of a car passing.
All of it dimmed against the way she walked toward him, steady, unhurried, every step dragging his pulse higher.
By the time she reached the curb, he was already out of the car, moving without thought. His hand gripped the door handle, pulling it open for her like instinct.
The words slipped before he could stop them.
"You’re... beautiful."
Tress blinked, lips parting just slightly. A hint of color warmed her cheeks.
"Really? ... Thank you." Her voice carried that rare softness, a tone she almost never let anyone hear.
She slid into the seat, and Julian closed the door gently behind her.
For a moment, he just stood there, catching his reflection in the window beside her—the boy who could still be disarmed by something as simple as this.
Then he shook himself, circling back to the driver’s side. The engine rumbled to life, headlights sweeping across the quiet street as the car pulled away into the night.
...
"I didn’t know you could drive," Tress said, adjusting her glasses, her tone somewhere between impressed and doubtful.
"Yeah, well... it’s my first time," Julian admitted, a grin tugging at his lips. "But believe me—it’s safe."
The moment the words left him, Tress’s hands shot to her seatbelt. She tugged it tighter, eyes snapping to the road ahead with exaggerated seriousness.
Julian glanced at her, chuckling. "Hey, it’s fine."
"Eyes on the road, Julian. The road," Tress cut in, sharp as a teacher scolding a reckless student.
That tone snapped him straight. He smothered his grin, focused forward, and kept the wheel steady.
Minute by minute, the car glided smoother, his instincts sharpening as if he’d been driving for years. Slowly, Tress eased back, her grip loosening.
Finally, she exhaled. "Alright. You pass. We can talk now."
Julian laughed, a low, genuine sound.
"So," she tilted her head, studying him. "You ready for tonight? For your announcement?"
"Yeah," Julian said without hesitation. His voice carried the weight of it, steady and sure. "Ready or not... here I come."
Her lips softened into a small smile. "Good. Because no matter what, I’ll always support you."
The words weren’t loud. They weren’t dramatic. But to Julian, they landed heavier than any cheer in a stadium.
For a moment, his hands tightened around the steering wheel—not from nerves, but to steady himself against the warmth spreading through his chest.
The words settled in him like an anchor, firm and warm. He didn’t answer—he didn’t need to. He just kept driving, the night lights flickering past the windows.
It wasn’t long before they rolled into the parking lot of The Final Whistle.
Julian killed the engine, stepped out, and came around to her side. He opened the door with the same quiet care as before.
"Thank you," Tress murmured as she stepped out.
Together, they walked toward the glow of the restaurant, the hum of voices spilling into the night.
...
Julian arrived at The Final Whistle around 18:20. He wore casual clothes—simple, nothing flashy—while Tress, in her black one-piece dress and glasses, carried a kind of understated grace. Not glamour, but style. Effortless.
The moment they stepped inside, the noise of the room shifted.
"Hooooo! Our emperor brings the empress!" Cael’s voice thundered from across the tables, earning an explosion of whistles and laughter.
Julian froze for half a heartbeat, then shook his head. Of course Cael would be the first.
Tress only adjusted her glasses with a faint smile, unbothered.
Laura slipped through the crowd, linking arms with her. "Come on, sit with us," she said warmly.
"I’ll join the girls, then," Tress told Julian softly.
He nodded once. "Okay."
She disappeared into the corner where Laura and a group of classmates had claimed a table, their chatter already rising.
Julian turned toward the Lincoln players’ section. The room was packed—not just his teammates, but teachers, classmates, even townsfolk he barely knew. Most of their faces blurred into background noise. Football had been his whole focus since arriving at Lincoln; bonds outside the pitch were scarce.
Still, he caught Crest at a table near the "old guard"—parents, staff, familiar authority figures. Their eyes met across the room. She gave him the smallest nod, sharp and controlled. He returned it, equally brief, before moving on.
When he slid into the players’ table, the noise rose again. Aaron slapped the table. Riku leaned forward with a grin. Noah smirked. Cael, of course, was still buzzing.
Leo raised an eyebrow, lips quirking. "So what—do we have an empress now?"
Julian didn’t bite. He only smirked faintly, letting the silence answer for him.
That, of course, only made the table erupt louder.
"I can’t believe we actually won the season," Ricky said suddenly, his voice softer than the others but carrying weight. A smile tugged at his lips, rare and genuine.
Julian turned to look at him. Ricky, who was usually the quiet one, the steady anchor who never made much noise—now even he was smiling like a kid who’d just touched the stars.
"Yeahhh, we winnnnn!" Aaron roared back, raising his cup.
The table shook with laughter, chairs scraping as hands slapped shoulders and backs. Some of them were nearly falling over each other in joy.
And then Riku—loud, brash Riku—wasn’t laughing. His eyes brimmed, tears cutting clean tracks down his cheeks.
"Wait—hey, what the hell?" Leo barked, half-grinning as he leaned across the table. "Why are you crying, you idiot?"
"I’m not crying," Riku shot back, voice cracking. "Shut up!" Which, of course, only made them laugh harder.
Noah, as always, stayed quiet. But even he couldn’t hide it—the brightness in his eyes, the curve of a smile that softened his usually cool face.
Julian watched them all—his team, his brothers in blue. The noise, the laughter, the tears, it all wrapped around him like a fire he didn’t want to leave.
And yet, deep in his chest, a different weight pressed.
What would they say when he told them?
When he admitted that this—this bond, this no-loss run—couldn’t last?
His fingers curled into fists beneath the table. He drew in a deep breath, the kind that cut sharp through his lungs.
It had to be done.
Lincoln had been his battlefield. His proving ground.
But his war wasn’t here anymore.
The clamor around him blurred. Cups clinked. Laughter roared. But all Julian heard was the faint drumbeat in his chest, steady and heavy.
He wasn’t just celebrating. He was counting down. Every second brought him closer to the moment he’d have to break their hearts.
He needed a bigger pitch.
The world stage.