Chapter 10

The bench became warmer the more time Will had spent on it. They were a minute into the fourth quarter; Meadow Ridge saw no light at the end of this dark and depressing tunnel, no sign of a coming victory. Miller's lead wasn't exactly impossible to break, but from what Will observed of Peter's manner, their lead would remain that way. George still sat, sulking silently over his previous failure. Will grew increasingly annoyed with this sight and decided now would be a perfect time to address it. He tapped George lightly on the shoulder who pretended as if he had not felt it. Will thought for a moment and thumped him on the back of the neck. George jumped, his hand clasping his neck. He glared at Will, waiting reluctantly for whatever words that may spill from his mouth.

"How are you feeling?" Will asked him. George's glare was replaced by his sorrowful frown. Will ignored it, determined to invoke some sort of happiness inside of his friend. "Oh come on, it was one mistake!" George stared at him in disbelief.

"'One mistake'," he mocked. "Well that 'one mistake' cost us the game!" Will felt sorry for George; he knew that George had a crush on Ashley since the sixth grade when she offered to play Football with him, Horace, Will, Malcolm, Halt, and Crowley during PE. Ever since then, he's made every effort to impress her, to show his admiration for her. Why he couldn't just tell her was beyond Will's understanding, but George's efforts were not in vain. Will recalled the incident in eighth grade when she had stopped him after school, which resulted in Will missing his bus, to ask him if George had liked her. The thought had slipped his mind owing to the fact that Will's eighth grade football team had reached the playoffs. He never had the opportunity to tell George about that day. Well, here he was, sitting and sulking, doubting that Ashley liked him now, and wishing just to hold her hand, to embrace her as her arms draped around him to never release. Now was as good a time as any. Will cleared his throat; George paid no attention to him.

"You know, I talked to Ashley," Will began. George picked his head back up; the vain in his temple was throbbing in hunger, desperate to hear of Will's memory.

"When did you talk to her?" he asked, projecting an interrogating tone.

"Remember when I missed the bus last year?" Will educed. George remembered numerous incidents of Will missing the bus, so he took his pick.

"You mean the time when you were talking to Taylor and you lost track of time?" George guessed. Will put his face in his palm and shook his head. "Well what about…" Will cut him off, not wanting George to start spouting the names of numerous girls that had stolen his attention.

"Listen to me!" Will interrupted. Pain shot through his leg; he winced and readjusted the ice pack to the lower section of the joint. "Ashley stopped me one day to ask me something." George's face went pale, his false assumption lingering in his expression.

"What d-did she ask you?" he faltered, hoping not to hear words he would surely dread, words that would most certainly end his and Will's friendship. Will huffed deeply.

"Well, it's a bit complicated as to why she had kept it for so long," Will droned on, trying to draw George's anticipation to its peak. "She asked about you." George's heart rate slowed to normal, sweet relief setting in his mind.

"And what did she say?" he asked. Will smiled, his task had been accomplished.

"Well, didn't take much to bring your spirit back," he remarked. George flashed him a chilling look. And if looks could kill, then Will would have been a dead man.

"So help me if you don't tell me what she said!" George threatened. Will laughed and waved his remark aside.

"Relax, I'm messing with you," Will eased. "Ashley had asked if you had liked her and I told her that you did." No apple, no matter the shade of red, could rival the color of George's face. Will deemed it too difficult to determine whether or not George's coloring was out of rage or shock. Perhaps a combination of the two.

"Why did you tell her that?" he demanded. Will rolled his eyes in disbelief.

"The whole school knew that you liked her!" Will retorted. "I'm surprised someone from the school paper didn't even make a subtle hint about it!"

"Why didn't you tell me this?" he demanded.

"Oh come on, George!" Will argued. "We were in the playoffs that season, it slipped my mind!" George snorted indignantly, but a smile shining with confidence was slowly twisting on his face. He stood up, patted Will on the shoulder and walked away next to Coach Chubbs.

"Happy to help," Will muttered under his breath. He extended his leg, hoping that the pain had dulled. That desire had quickly died as paroxysm made its presence felt once more. Will rotated his leg as Coach Duncan had requested, hoping the pain would gradually subside. The agony showed no intent of dying away and gripped Will's knee, biting into the joint. Will moaned in agony and massaged it lightly.

"Punt!" Coach Arald called as Crowley rushed onto the field. Will's heart sank at this word. He forgot of his affliction and resembled George, hunched over, weighed down by the burden of depression. A booming kick emanated from the other side of the field. Will watched the ball spin angrily into the air and slowly descend. Horace rampaged through those who dared try to delay his advance to the ball. The receiver thought on Horace's deeds to the previous ball carrier and distanced himself. Will watched his teammates dance around the ball, treating it as if certain death would meet them if they touched it. Certain death was already looming so there really was no use. Of course, Peter took it upon himself to down the ball while it was still rolling in the opposite direction. Horace regarded him with the upmost hatred, a quantity that could never be matched. Will drank in the image, wanting to pummel Peter with what strength he could muster. He strode back onto the sideline, a broad grin on his face. He acted as if he were the savior of the game, that Meadow Ridge might just stand a chance because of his 'noble' actions. Will wondered if it was too late to take Horace up on his offer. Coach Chubbs called out a play to Horace. The huddle broke with much less enthusiasm; the entire team had lost its morale. This was quickly replaced by the joyless blanket that draped over their hearts as they prepared for yet another loss to Miller. Will had never felt more ashamed in his life. If he hadn't tried to play the hero, tried to appear indestructible in Alyss' eyes, then maybe they would stand a chance. No, he had to steal what would have rivaled the feeling of winning the super bowl. Miller's offensive line crouched down, staring murderously across at the defensive line. Miller's quarterback stood hunched over the center, awaiting the snap.

"Down! Wide 80…wide 80, set go!" he bellowed, taking the snap. The defensive line felt themselves thrown onto their backs, Horace and the other two linebackers had been occupied and the quarterback had time, crucial time to search for an open receiver. At Meadow Ridge's twenty yard line where George and the receiver were meandering with one another. Miller's quarterback lobbed the ball into the air, not caring if the receiver had caught it or not. Will's stomach emitted a nervous lurch. He wondered if his words would hinder George; just add another mistake to his list. His breathing sped as George and his receiver darted around each other, trying to reach the ball first. Will shut his eyes tight, wishing not to see what was to happen. Cheering, not from the visitors, erupted behind him. He opened his eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of what had happened. George and the opposing receiver lay motionless on their backs; Will was confused, trying to guess the reason of the home section's cheers. As he looked closer, he saw George's arms were wrapped around his chest. Or around something… He rejoiced when George's hand was clearly visible, his fingers clutching the football. Meadow Ridge may still have a chance. Will's faith no longer rested with their running tactics. He hoped, prayed that Coach Duncan would switch to a passing game. Discouragement fell over him, wrapping around his chest in its cold, demoralizing embrace. He still would not step onto the field, not have the opportunity to bring about Miller's fall. His heart cried out, desperate for an opportunity for his cleats to touch the soil past the sidelines. But it was of no use; Coach Duncan strangely, still had faith in Peter. He called out a play to Halt. The huddle broke with a renewed sense of conviction. Halt twisted his head around, examining to see if anything in his formation was less than perfect.

"Down! 180…180, set go!" he growled, taking the snap from the center. It was a battle of wills; neither lineman was able to move one another. Horace intercepted the blitz of the middle linebacker. The only flaw in this impression was Peter Berrigan receiving the pitch from Halt. He sprinted past the dueling lineman, but was clipped in the side of the leg by an outside linebacker. Peter pounded his fist onto the ground, his blood curdling agonized screams filling the stadium. The defense clamored amongst one another, celebrating. All hope had now been lost as Will watched the trainers rush out onto the field. Sorrow filled his insides, surprisingly for Peter. His knee was bent awkwardly, clear dislocation. The trainers pulled him to his feet and carried him to the bench. Peter Berrigan, though arrogant and self obsessed, the only other decent running back, was taken off the field. Coach Duncan conversed with Coach Arald for what seemed like hours. Will assumed the topic was not about him and averted his gaze to the offense who stood rigid, blank stares beneath their helmets. Will thought this sight signaled the end of the game. Coach Duncan scanned the players behind him, hoping for some sort of improvisation. The referees made their way over to the coach, conversing with words unknown to Will. The ice bag beneath his knee warmed and felt like gel. Will removed the bag and limped over to the trainer to return the bag. The pain had been banished slightly, but it still could be presumed unbearable. As the trainer swiped the bag out of Will's hand, he heard Coach Duncan call out a name, a name that would fill him with upmost joy.

"Will!" he called. Will stared at him, resembling a deer in the headlights. He thought just maybe he was dreaming, that he had been drugged and this was only a hallucination. He limped up to Coach Duncan who bore an expression bursting with desperation. "How are you feeling?" Will stood frozen; he didn't know whether or not he should lie. He had already made an attempt to play injured and it had cost Meadow Ridge the win.

"I'm still in pain," Will replied. "But it's not as bad as it was earlier." Coach Duncan's eyes averted their attention downwards at Will's knee. For once, he was able to stand on his own will, independent of any object to hold himself upright. He returned his attention to Will's face. Will felt the chill from Coach Duncan run down his spine. He shuddered nonchalantly and gazed back at the coach, awaiting his next words.

"Get your helmet and get back onto the field," he ordered, beckoning him to the bench. Will rushed back to the bench and sprinted back onto the field, ignoring the stabbing pains in his knee. Halt turned and his eyes widened in astonishment. He looked confused, torn over which emotion he should feel whether it be anger or shock. Coach Duncan's breathing gradually evolved an unsteady pace. Will was valuable at this point, he couldn't do much more damage if he did any at all. He called out a play to Halt, hoping, praying that this would produce some sort of benefit.

"Strong 84 splits," Halt announced. Will's heart sank; this play was the most complicated in the book and was only used in crucial times. Well, this was a time of desperation. "Strong 84 splits, on go, on go, ready break!" Will crouched down behind Horace. Agony ran chaotic through his muscles; Will bit his tongue and awaited Halt's gruff voice. Halt checked the line, accepting only perfection.

"Down, 180…180 set go!" he bellowed, taking the snap from the center. He shoved the ball into Horace's bear like arms and dropped back, mocking an intention to pass. Will faked a run to the outside, drawing the attention of an outside linebacker away. Horace pounded up the middle, sloshing forward while dragging two defensive linemen on his back. The middle linebacker stood, awaiting him. Horace pushed with strength that remained, knocking him and his adversary another yard forward.

"Number 51, Horace Altman of the Eagles on the run for a gain of four," the commentator called. "Brought down by a gang of Knights." Horace pulled himself back onto his field unfazed as if nothing had happened to him. Coach Duncan called another play out to Halt. Though he was perhaps a distance from the coach, Will could've swore he saw a nervous sweat break from his cheek.

"26 kickout," Halt breathed. "26 kickout, on go, on go, ready break!" Will crouched down yet again; he was preparing for a signature run, to show Miller that they truly did not possess the willpower to keep Will. Halt hunched over, his hands beneath the center, awaiting the snap.

"Down! 180…180…" it was too late. Will watched the left guard lurch forward slightly. The whistle sounded and flags were thrown wherever possible.

"Flag on the play against Meadow Ridge!" the commentator boomed through the megaphone. Will groaned in disbelief; how could a lineman be called for false start? He knew the snap count, he knew when to engage the defensive lineman. The referee walked to the middle of the field and faced the commentator's booth.

"False start: offense number 63, five yard penalty, remains second down!" the referee announced. Coach Duncan's fury could be felt in the huddle as he screamed: "Wait for the snap!" He called out to Halt and turned around to channel his displeasure.

"26 kickout," Halt repeated. "26 kickout, on go, on go, ready break!" Seconds after the huddle broke, he stopped number 63, gripping his arm tight and stared at him threateningly. Will heard him mutter: "wait for the snap." He released him and made his way up to the center, waiting for the snap.

"Down! 180…180 set go!" Halt yelled, receiving the snap. He faked the run to Horace and pitched the ball out to Will. Will took off down the sideline. Out of god's saving grace, Will danced out of reach of a diving outside linebacker. He staggered and he felt a limb, perhaps from Miller's sideline trip him up. Will fell face first into the painted grass, fury boiling in his insides. He jumped back to his feet, glaring up at number 28 who looked pleased with his underhanded tactic. Will turned his head to discover a flagless terrain. He felt betrayed; no referee had seen this. Instead, one was making his way to guide Will away from Miller's sideline. Before that could happen, a behemoth that resembled Horace seized number 28 by the hem of his jersey and yanked him onto the field. The large safety tumbled and lay sprawled, spitting and sputtering. The moment he had gotten to his feet, Horace charged and pulverized him like a rhinoceros. Will joined Miller's players in separating Horace and the large safety. Horace whipped off his helmet, begging number 28 to come at him. Whistles were issuing all over the field, flags became airborne for mere seconds and ordered Horace back to the sidelines. The referee then made his way back onto the field.

"Personal Foul: Unsportsmanlike conduct, number 51 of the offense, player is suspended for the remainder of the game with an additional 15 yard penalty!" the referee called. Instead of joining the circle of referees behind him, he walked up to Coach Duncan and conversed for a few seconds. By the time it had ended, Will could see only the referee walking away and Coach Duncan screaming at Horace, wondering what had possessed him to commit that sort of violence. By the time they were done, Coach Duncan called out another play to Halt.

"I 20 kickout!" Halt muttered. It was clear that Horace's behavior was disturbing his focus. "I 20 kickout, on go, on go, ready break!" Will crouched down behind Halt, hoping that this play would develop some sort of success.

"Down! 180…180 set go!" Halt roared, taking the snap. He faked a run to Will who engaged the middle linebacker. The weight and strength difference was clear. However, the delay was enough. Halt's eyes widened and he launched the ball into the air. The ball spiraled gracefully like a bird. Will held his breath, praying silently that Malcolm would reach the ball first. Like a miracle, the corner Malcolm danced with tripped over his laces. Malcolm jumped as if he were standing on hot rocks and snatched the ball out of the air. Unable to regain his balance, he fell onto this back, the ball pressed tight to his chest, fearful that it may escape. Will exhaled in relief, what precious time remained they could burn to at least bring forth an even score.

"Pass to number 18, Malcolm Meralyn for a gain of thirty! First down for the Eagles!" the commentator yelled. The silence in the stands had broken. Cheers echoed throughout the stadium, spirits soared higher than the clouds themselves. Hope seemed more precious. Miller's defense exchanged nervous glances with one another, displeased with current events. Will turned to the scoreboard and his spirit fell just as quickly as if had rose. Fifteen seconds remained on the clock and they had another half of the field to get to the end zone. Coach Duncan called out the final play to Halt.

"I 80 reverse," he announced. "I 80 reverse, on go, on go, ready break!" Will was confused; with so little time, it toyed with his mind as to why Coach Duncan had chosen a running play. The huddle broke, their hearts pounding hard against their chests. Nerves felt sickening, and burdens weighing on the offense's shoulders suddenly felt heavier. Halt crouched slowly, huffing anxiously.

"Down! 180…180, set go!" Halt roared, taking the snap for the final play. He pitched the ball out to Will who took off down the sideline. Everything he passed became a blur, he had no control over his legs. He saw the end zone and between them was an outside linebacker. Will lowered down and the linebacker imitated his action. He drove forward, knocking himself and his opponent into the end zone. Every thought in Will's mind was drowned out by the sound of the home section celebrating. Screams of delectation were deafening; Will felt a smile cross his face, the deed had been done. Blitheness filled his insides, stealing his attention away from his agonized knee. Multiple pairs of arms yanked him to his feet, and then tugging him into an airtight embrace. Will could hear Halt sobbing; they had done it. Malcolm, Will, and Halt sprinted back to the sideline for Crowley to truly secure the victory. All eyes were fixed upon the field goal unit, the entire stadium had grown breathless. Will's heart beat rivaled the speed of a cheetah. He watched the snap, followed by Crowley's kick, then the precious image of the ball spinning gleefully through the uprights. The sound of the buzzer roaring was repressed under the volume of the home supporters. At long last, six long, depressing years, Meadow Ridge was walking off the field as the victors. Cheerleaders and spectators were hugging one another, tears were glistening on the sweaty faces of the football players. Coach Duncan found it too difficult for words to be vocal. Instead, he pulled Will into a fatherly embrace. He turned to Halt who was clutching the game ball. He offered it to Will who refused. Instead he gripped the ball, his fingertips brushing Halt's and they raised the ball into the air. The roar of the spectators had unthinkably increased in volume. As they brought their arms down, he felt someone club him playfully in the back of the head. He whipped around to see Horace grinning broadly at him.

"You show off!" he joked. They gripped each other's hands and smashed their shoulders against one another. Will staggered back, but was laughing. "I knew they would put you back in eventually!" Will laughed again and faced George and Malcolm were looked as if they were sobbing. They embraced, Will heard their sweat-mixed tears drop onto his shoulder pads. Coach Duncan called for the team to line up and shake Miller's hand. Horace shoved Will to the front of the line. Even Miller didn't look heartbroken about the loss. They bore congratulating smiles, hundreds of hands shaking in respect for a hard fought battle. Even the sullen number 28 took the time to congratulate Will. Coach Duncan ordered them to the locker room to change out and congratulate them. The entire team knew that these words were code for giving them a long speech. The sound of cleats hitting the pavement at different moments echoed through the stadium. Alyss rushed down the stairs leading to the bleachers to catch glimpse of Will. Her friends appeared at her side, breathless. Will had no hint to what words they were speaking, the only thing he noticed was that they kept looking into the throng of football players. Will caught her gaze; he felt his mouth twist into a smile at the sight of her. Alyss did the same, but carried a pronounced sense of shyness. Will found her much more attractive that way. He watched as she brushed her sleek blonde hair away from her face, uncovering her dazzling, breath stealing gray eyes. She fidgeted with her hands, trying to work the courage to ask him something. Will did no better; his heart beat rendered his speech broken. Will stopped, ceasing movement of those behind him. His teammates stood behind him, confused, trying to figure out what he was trying to do. Alyss found the words she so desperately needed. She mouthed: meet you after the game. Will opened his mouth to reply, but felt no strength to speak a silent reply. Instead, he forced himself to nod which brought her entrancing smile back upon her face. Horace clubbed him in the back of the head, urging him to keep moving. With great reluctance, Will waved Alyss a temporary goodbye, holding onto his promise to meet her after he changed. He never felt a great sense of relief than when he removed his shoulder pads. It was like setting down a heavy load you had been carrying on your shoulders for an extended period of time. He requested Horace help him get his game pants off, a request that Horace did not agree to so keenly. After minutes of fighting, they managed to wrestle Will's pants off of his injured leg. Will removed his pads and threw them back into his locker. He tossed his jersey and his pants into their respected bins for washing. After that, Will pulled on his shorts, filled his empty grip with his IPod, and slung his book bag over his shoulder. He chose the song She Will Be Loved by Maroon Five. It was not the typical type of song he would listen to, but his mind clung to thoughts of Alyss. He resisted all temptations to tell her, reminding himself of her birthday the next day. A grip startled him, delaying his meeting with Alyss with who knows how long. Will whipped around, infuriated over who dared keep him from the girl whose smile he so deeply cherished. Halt and Crowley stood behind Horace, who removed his iron grip from Will's wrist.

"Just where does the heartthrob think he's going?" Horace mused. Will said nothing; he was confused, wondering what they so desperately needed that they felt it necessary to keep him from Alyss. "I think he may want to hear a suggestion." Will shook his head in refusal.

"No thanks," he answered quickly. Before he could turn away, Crowley stepped up.

"Hear us out," he pleaded. Will sighed, defeated. He removed his headphones and replaced his IPod in his pocket.

"Fine, talk," he gave in. Crowley and Halt exchanged triumphant smiles.

"Halt told me of your plan for Alyss' birthday," Crowley began. Will flashed Halt a reproachful glare, who held up his hands in innocence. He smacked Crowley on the shoulder.

"I didn't tell you anything!" Halt protested. Both Will's and Halt's eyes had fallen upon Horace. He shrugged and murmured: "guilty." Will rolled his eyes, beckoning for Crowley to continue. "I think telling Alyss tomorrow is so romantic!" Will raised an eyebrow, dumbstruck at Crowley's behavior.

"This was so important that you needed to stop me?" he remarked in a frustrated tone. "Alyss is waiting for me!" Crowley held up his hands, pleading silently with Will to allow him to speak. Will sighed again, permitting Crowley to talk once more.

"Horace told me you had written her a poem," Crowley droned on. Will shifted his attention to Horace who showed not even the slightest trace of guilt.

"What else haven't you told him?" Will demanded. Horace remained silent, fearful that whatever he might say would bring Will's anger to a boil. Will shook his head in annoyance.

"Halt and I came up with an idea that you could get her a necklace or something of that nature," Crowley finished. Will stared at him, pondering over his words. He had no gift for her, but Alyss had assured him that he need not present one to her. But he had loved her for two long, painful years. In this period, Will had fended off scores of girls, his heart set on being with Alyss. However, every time he had made any attempt to talk to her, he found an excuse to back away, and working up the courage had grown ever so difficult. Finally, he was able to have conversations with her. Yes, there were times where her beauty had rendered him speechless, fearful that whatever that may escape his lips would push her away. Horace deemed it necessary to criticize Crowley's idea.

"And just where do you suppose Will's going to get the money?" Horace inquired, raising an eyebrow. Crowley stared as if the answer were obvious.

"The school pays him don't they?" he replied. He regarded Will, praying for no contradiction. Will nodded supportively; in his free periods, he reported to the Assistant Principal's office and performed various tasks. Surprisingly, he had been paid generously and kept a substantial amount in the bank. Will felt what he first assumed was a magazine being thrust into his grip. After studying it closer, Will recognized it as a Kay Jewelers jewelry catalog. He often paid no attention; those who dared cross the threshold into his mailbox made their way into his trash can. He flipped through and skimmed across the pictures. None caught his eye and Crowley's idea had quickly turned useless. He attempted to return it, but Crowley waved it away, as if it were something disgusting. "You keep it." Will shrugged; just another one to send to the dump.

"Anything else?" Will asked exasperated. Concern must be setting in Alyss' mind, wondering what delayed their meeting. Perhaps if Crowley, Halt, and Horace hadn't made a last minute decision to cease his pace, he would've been out there, able to see to her dazzling, hypnotizing smile. Just the thought was enough to send Will into a trance. He felt himself swaying on the spot; Horace deemed the moment appropriate to bring Will back to a world of reality. He snapped his fingers just outside Will's ear, startling him. Crowley gestured for him to leave. Will scowled.

"As if I need permission," he grumbled to himself. He then considered himself thankful he was able to escape before either one of them could come up with another ridiculous notation. Will sauntered around crowds of energized spectators. He made it a point to pass girls who were flashing hopeful glances at him. A girl whom he had never seen before blocked his path, forcing him to take notice of her. She had brown hair flowing to the middle of her shoulders. Her eyes were hazel, her skin was slightly tanned, and her teeth looked as if they had been freshly weaned of braces. Beneath her eyes were dark green streaks, Will's number 23 on one cheek, and his last name, Treaty on the other. He sighed, emitting a subtle tone of annoyance. He waited for her to speak her peace. Instead, she stood, twisting and fidgeting. She was smiling deeply, but nerves kept her lips sealed. After a few seconds of enduring impatience, Will finally heard her talk.

"H-hi Will," she greeted nervously. Will raised his eyebrow at her.

"How do you know my name?" he asked her.

"You're in my Creative Writing class," she answered. The girl looked as if Will should have known this already, but he hardly ever paid attention to anyone, let alone another girl. He opened his mouth to retort, but thought better of it. "I thought maybe you could text me sometime." This statement was one that no one was able to deny. Her hand extended nervously, shaking while clutching a small piece of paper. Will took it from her hands and put it in his pocket. "I'm Dalia by the way." Again, her hand trembled as she brought it up slowly. Will regarded it for a few seconds and shook it.

"I'm Will, but I guess you already know that," Will introduced. "Listen, I'd love to talk, but I need to talk to someone, nice meeting you." Dalia emitted a nonchalant squeal, but remained frozen where she stood. Will brushed past her, eager to retreat. He hoped the first encounter with Dalia would be the last. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a lone couple embracing and kissing lightly. Will turned his head to see George and Ashley, their lips locked as if they had been glued together. A slick smile crossed his face and Will shook his head. It was about time they had gotten together. Will scanned the area once more and found Alyss where she had been standing before he went into the locker room. He thought about sneaking behind her and put his hands in front of her eyes, but the sound of her giggling friends would give him away. His heart pounded against his chest, screaming to be let free. His mind was blank, no thought to approach her with. He inhaled deeply, as if there were a sweet aroma in the air and strode up to her. His steps were short and numerous, as though his feet were fighting the urge to go to Alyss. Her entrancing smile revealed its presence as her eyes fell upon him. Will discarded her two giggling friends in the background. The space between them was filled with silence and awkwardness. Finally, Alyss broke through and cleared her throat.

"You were absolutely amazing tonight!" she complemented. This was an all too familiar comment; he often heard it from it from other girls who had taken to time to watch Will perform. Strangely, its effect this time differed greatly. Over the course of two years, it had grown rather annoying; Will thought it was the only thing they were able to come up with. However, his heart had melted when he heard it from Alyss. He was speechless, no sense to reply. Alyss' friends were giggling uncontrollably now; Alyss turned to them. "Shush!" They silenced themselves, but bemused smiles still lingered upon their faces. Will heard phrases such as 'he's so cute' and 'awww, he's shy around her!' He paid them no attention.

"Thanks, you uh….um…." he stuttered. His voice had been muted by the sight of Alyss' adoring, glistening, gorgeous eyes. He felt himself gazing back at her, reminiscent of scenes in a romantic movie. He was quickly withdrawn from the state by the sound of laughter. This however, was clearly not feminine. Will directed his attention behind him to find Horace, Crowley, Malcolm, and Halt all standing at a distance, staring hungrily at the twosome. Will ignored them and returned his gaze back upon her. He studied her; she wore a white halter top, blue jeans, sneakers, and a gray Abercrombie sweater. To him, there was no girl to match her elegance, no girl able to compare to Alyss' composure. With effort, Will had found the words he had been looking for. "You look uh, really beautiful today Alyss." Alyss' eyes glittered at the sound of the complement. Her friends were breathless; they were overcome by giggling fits.

Giggling should be made illegal, Will thought bitterly. Alyss turned her attention back onto her interfering friends. They read her expression like words on the page of a book and sank away. A sense of relief blanketed Will; Alyss turned back to Will, twisting as if it were a habit. Both were at loss for words, both bowing before shyness. Will thought about her birthday party, how he so desperately hungered for it, deprived of its nourishment. Alyss banished the silent air that stood between them.

"H-how are you feeling?" she asked nervously.

"W-what d-d-do you mean?" Will asked, timidity faltering his speech.

"Well, you said that you haven't defeated Miller in five years right?" Alyss quizzed.

"Oh yeah!" Will realized. "It felt amazing! It's only better because I'm talking to you thought." Alyss' heart melted, compelling her to fall even more love with him.

"Awww thanks!" Alyss swooned. Silence came over them once more. It was Will's turn to break the silence. The thought of her birthday took over all other thoughts within his mind. He considered his poem and doubts began to overwhelm his head. A girl of her composure would surely believe his poem unworthy for her eyes.

"So, are you excited for tomorrow?" Will asked. Alyss' eyes glittered, excitement clear upon her face.

"Yeah, it's not much, you know," Alyss replied, her voice absence of enthusiasm. "Just some friends over a pool party, nothing special." She shifted her feet nervously; anxious to speak what had burdened her mind for years. Will was no different; his nor did he truly understand what had driven to him to fall for a girl not as popular, but as beautiful as Alyss. Whatever it may be, Will liked what it had done for him. He would've never had such a thing as shyness to battle from the first day of high school. He could hear Gotta be Somebody by Nickelback echoing in the back of his mind. Those around are able to tell the tale of the many spans of anxiety Will had fallen into, for he wondered day and night if Alyss shared his emotions. Countless sleepless nights, training days in which he imagined Alyss somewhere in the corner of a weight room, watching him while he lifted. The mere thought of her tortured his mind. Her very presence brought Will's heart to a pace unmatched. Speaking drew what strength he had and by the time the conversation died away, Will would be limp.

"It's going to be amazing," Will assured. A comment worked itself as a part of the sentence. "Just like you." Alyss nearly collapsed. She thought her ears were deceiving, but they were not. Her breath resembled that of a dog panting, but not as loud. Speechless, that's what Will's comments had made of her. Just a girl with so much to say, but lacking the tenacity.

"It's just because I came right?" Alyss tested. Will knew this quiz all too well. Scores of girls had used this tactic; all of which had failed.

"No, you just are amazing," Will verified. Alyss did not press the issue, partially because she was at loss for breath. His words were precious to her, just fold them up, put into her pocket, and hold close to her heart whenever she needed them. The conversation would have been much longer, but the sound of a familiar roar of a car horn moaned yards away. Disappointment filled her insides and showed clear on her face. Though for only the remainder of the night, it would be the most difficult thing for her to do. She stared at the ground, hopeful for a miracle to meet them at that particular moment.

"That's my ride," she announced quietly. Will's heart sank; it felt like another moment mirroring those of the past two years, those that had depicted him failing to make his adoration of her vocal. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cassandra and Jenny laughing amongst the crowd of Horace, Crowley, Malcolm, and Halt.

"Jenny!" he called. He wished that he drew her attention instead of six separate recognitions. Will gestured for her to come. Alyss looked confused; she wondered if Will was replacing her with another girl to talk to. The unexpected struck her hard. She watched Will hand his IPod over to Jenny. He turned to her, an inquiring look upon his face. "Do you want a picture together?" Alyss felt her heart stop; no guy, especially one like Will Treaty had ever asked this of her. This had to be a dream, one that was beautiful and cruel at the same time. She nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck. In turn, Alyss felt his arms drape around her torso. This was more of a couple's pose, but she discarded it. It looked as if Jenny was having a hard time taking the picture. Will rolled his eyes; he wished that she didn't have to lose herself in this sight. The sound of photographic clicking filled their ears, a signal that they were permitted to release one another. But neither one felt that desire. At last, Will was able to hold Alyss in his arms, but only for a moment. The sweet, delectable bliss filled their insides to the point of bursting. Alyss' entrancing smile reappeared on her face once more. Will fell victim once again, his eyes staring dreamily back at her. She giggled softly and returned her gaze. A voice belonging to a middle aged woman called out Alyss' name. They sighed, reluctant to part company with each other. Alyss felt tears burning in the corner of her eyes, but caught herself, reminding her that Will would be at her party the next day.

"I've got to go," she croaked, her head slightly sagging. Will wished he were blind, unable to see this image. She was clearly unhappy and this was toying with Will's heartstrings. Following an impulse, they embraced. But she had done what Will dreamed would never happen. She leaned upwards and kissed his cheek. Her head rested on his chest for two seconds, but what felt like two minutes. Will thought he heard the snapping of his IPod camera again, but discarded it, focusing on this moment instead. Their arms relaxed off of each other and Will accompanied Alyss to passenger side of the car. Her hand brushed his arm and opened the car door. She waved, her adoring smile directed to him and only him. Will stiffened and waved back to her until she shut the door, her face obscured behind the tinted window. The car pulled away, leaving Will standing alone on the curb, staring at a clearing parking lot. His mind was weary and exhausted. He turned to retrieve his IPod from Jenny, only to find her showing off unknown elements on the screen. As Will approached, she turned to him, presenting the photo of his request. Upon sight, his mind felt warm and fuzzy. There stood fragments of a precious memory, one of which Will shall never forget. Alyss, her hands clutching the back of his neck, her silky blonde hair partially tumbling over his shoulder. Her head lay relaxed on his chest, smiling adoringly. Will saw himself a few minutes in the past, wallowing in a pool of admiration. His hands draped around her torso, holding her close, his chin resting on the top of her head. He too, was smiling back, looking the happiest he had ever been. Will felt his mouth twist into a grin, his IPod slipping back into his hands. Silently, he strode over to his car, the picture etching itself in his mind forever, always available whenever he needed something to raise his spirits. Even as he felt himself in his bed, slowly slipping away into the dimension of dreams, he could still feel her soft lips brushing his cheek.