IShowSpeed:Never Stop Dreaming!

The crisp evening air clung to Dante's skin as he jogged off the pitch, sweat cooling against his jersey. The faint hum of distant traffic blended with the low murmur of his teammates' chatter as they headed toward the locker room. The grass beneath his cleats was damp from the earlier rain, and the faint scent of wet earth still lingered in the air.

Tonight's training had been brutal—Coach Brooks had pushed everyone to their limits. Dante's legs burned with exhaustion, but beneath the fatigue was a simmering sense of pride. He was improving. Slowly but surely, he was learning to control his speed and sharpen his instincts.

"You're getting there, Walker," Ethan said, clapping him on the shoulder as they entered the locker room. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting a pale glow over the rows of wooden benches and open lockers. The air smelled of sweat, leather, and disinfectant.

"Yeah, still not good enough," Dante replied, rubbing the back of his neck. His muscles ached, but the frustration in his chest weighed heavier than the soreness in his legs.

"Don't beat yourself up," Ethan said with a grin. "At least you didn't trip over your own feet today."

Dante shot him a look, but he couldn't help the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. Ethan's easy humor had a way of breaking through his frustration.

As Dante sat down to untie his cleats, the locker room door swung open, letting in a burst of cool air—and the faint sound of laughter.

"Oi, Walker! Looks like you've got an audience," Jack's voice called from across the room, laced with its usual mix of mockery and challenge.

Dante glanced up, frowning—until his eyes landed on the doorway.

A girl stood just outside, chatting with one of the assistant coaches. Her long auburn hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, and her smile lit up her hazel eyes as she laughed at something the coach said. The faint glow of the hallway lights caught the curve of her cheek, and for a moment, Dante's mind went blank.

"Who's that?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"Emily Carter," Ethan replied with a knowing grin. "Coach's niece. She comes around sometimes to watch the matches. Looks like someone's interested, huh?"

Dante ignored the teasing tone, but the heat rising in his cheeks was harder to dismiss. Before he could think of a response, Emily glanced toward the locker room, her gaze skimming past the rows of players—then pausing briefly when her eyes met Dante's.

The corner of her mouth lifted in a faint smile. Then she turned and disappeared down the hallway.

"Well, that's new," Ethan remarked.

"What is?" Dante asked, pulling off his jersey and tossing it into his bag.

"You actually looked like a normal human for a second. Not all broody and intense."

"Shut up."

Later That Evening

Dante sat on the edge of his bed, the faint hum of the city drifting through the half-open window. The air smelled faintly of rain, and the distant rumble of traffic mixed with the occasional honk of a car horn. His phone buzzed beside him, pulling his gaze away from the worn soccer ball he'd been absentmindedly rolling beneath his foot.

A message from Ethan lit up the screen:

Ethan: So… gonna talk to her or just stare like a weirdo next time?

Dante snorted, shaking his head as he typed a quick reply.

Dante: Didn't know you moonlighted as a matchmaker.

Before Ethan could reply, another notification popped up—this one from Instagram. Dante's thumb hesitated over the screen as he opened the app, scrolling through the notifications until one name stood out.

Emily Carter started following you.

His pulse skipped, a mix of surprise and something he didn't quite want to name. Without thinking, he tapped on her profile. The first photo that caught his eye was from a few weeks ago—Emily sitting on the bleachers during one of Westford Athletic's matches, her smile bright against the backdrop of the field.

Dante's thumb hovered over the "Follow Back" button for a moment longer than necessary before he finally tapped it.

The Next Day: After Training

The faint scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted from the café near the stadium, mingling with the crisp afternoon air. Dante leaned against the railing just outside the entrance, still dressed in his training jacket, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His hair was damp from a quick post-practice shower, and his muscles still ached from the morning drills.

"You waiting for someone?" Ethan's voice cut through his thoughts as the midfielder approached, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie.

"No," Dante replied too quickly.

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Sure you're not."

Before Dante could retort, the faint sound of laughter made him glance toward the café entrance. Emily stepped outside, a paper cup in hand, her scarf wrapped snugly around her neck against the chill. Her eyes lit up with recognition when she spotted him.

"Hey, Dante, right?" she said, stopping a few steps away.

"Uh, yeah. Hey." His voice came out more awkwardly than intended, and he mentally cursed himself.

"Nice goal the other day," she said, taking a sip of her coffee. "I saw the match against Coventry. You're fast—really fast."

"Thanks. Still working on the whole 'not losing the ball' thing," Dante replied with a self-deprecating smile.

Emily chuckled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Well, speed's a good start. You just need someone to keep you grounded."

There was something light but teasing in her tone, and Dante found himself smiling despite the warmth creeping into his cheeks.

"So, you come to a lot of our matches?" he asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Sometimes. My uncle's always talking about the team, so I like to see what all the fuss is about. Plus…" She tilted her head slightly, her smile turning playful. "It's not a bad way to spend a Saturday afternoon."

Dante opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, Jack's voice called from across the street:

"Walker! Quit flirting and get moving—we've got a meeting in ten!"

Dante clenched his jaw as Jack disappeared around the corner, the mocking edge in his voice still lingering in the air.

"Friend of yours?" Emily asked, raising an eyebrow.

"More like a pain in the ass," Dante muttered.

Emily laughed, her breath curling in the chilly air. "Well, I'll let you get back to it. Maybe I'll see you at the next match—if you can keep the ball this time."

Before Dante could think of a comeback, she turned and walked down the street, her auburn hair catching the late afternoon light.

For a moment, he just stood there, the faint hum of traffic and distant footsteps fading into the background. His heart still beat a little faster than usual, but this time, it had nothing to do with running.

Ethan clapped him on the back as he passed.

"Careful, Walker. Distractions like that can mess with your game."

Dante watched Emily disappear around the corner, her laughter still echoing faintly in his mind.

Maybe… but not this time.

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