The stadium lights were humming with a high-voltage buzz that mirrored the adrenaline in my veins. It was the first home game of the season, and the bleachers were packed. In the original timeline, this game was a forgettable footnote, but with me under center, it had become the social event of the semester.
I was finishing my warm-up throws when I saw the Dunphy-Pritchett clan filing into the VIP section. Jay looked like he'd personally hand-polished his seat. Gloria was wearing a "Go Mason!" shirt that was definitely three sizes too small. And then there was Haley.
She wasn't alone. Walking beside her, looking like a confused deer in a denim jacket, was Dylan.
[INTERVIEW - MASON]Mason: "I know Dylan. I've seen his future—the music, the van, the eventually becoming a father to twins. He's a nice guy, but seeing him with his arm around Haley while I'm standing here in three pounds of armor? It felt... illogical. My 'Peak Athlete Physique' can handle a three-hundred-pound linebacker, but apparently, it doesn't have a filter for seeing your cousin-by-marriage dating a guy who thinks 'Wednesday' is a type of soup."
The game was brutal. The opposing team was playing dirty, targeting my ribs every chance they got. But they didn't have Total Recall. I knew their defensive coordinator's favorite blitz package better than he did. I dodged a tackle that should have leveled me, spun out of the pocket, and launched a forty-yard spiral into the end zone.
The crowd erupted. As I trotted toward the sideline, I glanced up. Haley was standing, cheering, but Dylan was leaning over, whispering something in her ear that made her laugh and sit back down. A sharp, unfamiliar spark of irritation flared in my chest. I channeled it into the next drive, running the ball myself and bowling over two safeties like they were made of cardboard.
After the game, the field was flooded with students. I was sweaty, grass-stained, and feeling the "High School Hero" vibe in full effect.
"Mason! Oh my god, you were incredible!"
It was Vanessa, one of Haley's best friends. She was a cheerleader with a bubbly personality and a tendency to "accidentally" touch my arm every time we spoke. She was currently hovering very close, her eyes bright.
"Thanks, Vanessa," I said, flashing the easy smile that came with my new confidence. "It was a team effort."
"You literally carried the team," she giggled, leaning in. "A few of us are going to the bonfire at the creek later. You should totally come. I could give you a ride?"
I saw Haley and Dylan approaching out of the corner of my eye. Haley's expression shifted instantly when she saw Vanessa's hand lingering on my shoulder pads.
"Hey, Mason," Haley said, her voice a pitch higher than usual. Dylan stood behind her, nodding vacantly. "Great game. You looked... sweaty."
"High praise, Haley," I replied. "You remember Vanessa?"
"Hard to forget her," Haley muttered, her eyes darting to Vanessa's hand. "Anyway, Vanessa, aren't you supposed to be helping with the pom-pom inventory or something?"
"The season just started, Haley, chill," Vanessa smiled at me, ignoring her friend. "So, Mason? Bonfire?"
"I might stop by," I said.
Vanessa beamed, gave my arm one last squeeze, and flounced off. As soon as she was out of earshot, Haley stepped closer, her arms crossed tightly. Dylan wandered off to look at a bug on a nearby equipment bag.
"You're not actually going with her, are you?" Haley asked, her nose wrinkling in distaste.
"Why not? She's nice," I said, curious to see where this was going.
"She's 'nice' because you have a six-pack and you're the quarterback," Haley hissed, her eyes flashing. "Trust me, Mason, she's totally not 'girlfriend material.' She's flighty, she's obsessed with her own reflection—which, hello, pot meet kettle, I know—and she once tried to date a guy just because his dad owned a frozen yogurt shop. She's a total social climber. You need someone... normal. Not a 'Vanessa'."
"Are you bitching about your best friend to me, Haley?" I asked, a smirk playing on my lips.
"I'm being protective!" she countered, her cheeks flushing. "You're new to this. You don't know the vultures in this school. I'm just looking out for my... family."
[INTERVIEW - HALEY]Haley: "Am I jealous? No. That's ridiculous. I have Dylan. Dylan is soulful. He wrote a song about a cat he saw once. It's just... Mason is special. He's smart and he's... well, look at him. Vanessa would just ruin him. She'd turn him into one of those guys who wears puka shell necklaces and says 'brah.' I'm doing him a favor."
"I appreciate the warning," I said, stepping a bit closer. The height difference was significant, and for a moment, the post-game chaos faded out. "But I think I can handle one bonfire without getting 'ruined'."
"Just don't come crying to me when she starts asking you to pay for her manicures," Haley huffed.
"Mason! Let's go!" Jay yelled from the stands, waving a foam finger with uncharacteristic enthusiasm.
I nodded to Haley, then looked at Dylan, who was still distracted. "Nice seeing you, Dylan."
"Yeah... the grass is really green tonight, man," Dylan replied.
As I walked away, I felt Haley's eyes on my back. I couldn't quite place the agitation in my chest. My Total Recall could tell me exactly how many episodes Haley and Dylan would stay together, but it couldn't explain why watching them made me want to hit someone. It was a glitch in my system—an unscripted emotion that didn't fit into the foundation of the Syndicate or my plans for the dynasty. Dating someone like Vanessa felt safe; it was the 'normal' high school script I could play to keep the mask on while I figured out why the air felt thinner whenever Haley was around.
But as I looked back and saw Haley still standing there, watching Vanessa head toward the parking lot, I knew one thing for sure: the "Haley Box" was officially broken.
SORRY FOR MISMANAGED PUBLISHING!!!