Theater Girl Freen and Football Captain Becky! 🏈🎭

Becky had been on dates before. Plenty, actually. But this one? This one felt different.

Maybe it was because Freen wasn’t just some casual crush—she was the crush, the one Becky had been secretly (and not-so-secretly) smitten with from the moment they crashed into each other in that fateful day. And now, after weeks of stolen glances and playful banter, it was finally happening. Their first date.

Becky was nervous. Which was ridiculous, really, because she wasn’t the type to get nervous about things like this.

And yet, here she was, adjusting her shirt for the hundredth time as she stood outside the theater. She exhaled, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Becky had sprinted back to her dorm after football practice just to change, wanting to look good but not like she was trying too hard. She settled on her best jeans, a crisp white shirt, and a spritz of cologne—casual, effortless. Just enough to look like she hadn’t been stressing over this date all day. Except, judging by how many times she had checked her reflection before leaving, she wasn’t as cool about it as she wanted to be.

Now, standing outside Freen’s theater practice, bouquet in hand, she was definitely not as cool about it.

She adjusted her grip, fingers clutching a small bouquet of tulips—soft pink and white ones, carefully chosen after fifteen minutes of internal debate at the flower shop. Roses felt cliché, and she wanted something different. Something that felt… right for Freen . Freen deserved something special.

Her heart did a little flip when the doors finally opened, and Freen walked out.

Even after weeks of knowing her, Becky still got a little breathless every time she saw her. Freen had that effortless kind of presence, the kind that turned heads without even trying. Her hair was tied back loosely, a few strands framing her face, her duffel bag slung over one shoulder. She was laughing at something one of her classmates said, but the moment her eyes landed on Becky, something in her softened.

A slow, teasing grin spread across her lips.

"Well, well… you clean up nice," she teased, eyes sweeping over Becky in a way that made her very aware of every choice she had made getting dressed tonight.

Becky straightened instinctively, running a hand through her hair as if that would help hide the heat creeping up her neck.

Becky, flustered but trying to play it cool, shrugged. "Had to make a good first date impression."

Freen raised an eyebrow. "First date, huh?" She stepped closer, tilting her head playfully. "So you were thinking about impressing me?"

Becky absolutely was, but she wasn’t about to admit that so easily. "Maybe."

Freen chuckled, but then her gaze landed on the flowers in Becky’s hands, and for a moment, the teasing faded. Becky watched as something flickered across her face. Surprise, followed by something softer, almost shy.

She reached out, fingertips tracing gently over the petals. "These are my favorite…"

Becky blinked. "Wait. Seriously?"

Freen nodded, and Becky felt her stomach do an unexpected flip. Of all the flowers, she had unknowingly picked the exact ones Freen loved.

Freen nodded, a small smile playing at her lips. "Yeah… how did you know?"

"I didn’t. I just thought they suited you," Becky admitted, suddenly feeling way more vulnerable than she expected.

Freen was quiet for a second, her eyes searching Becky’s in a way that made her stomach do that stupid nervous flip again. Then, to Becky’s absolute undoing, she took the bouquet from her hands and held it close.

"You’re sweet," she murmured, and Becky swore she saw the faintest hint of pink on Freen’s cheeks before she turned away.

Becky swallowed, very aware that this date hadn’t even started yet, and she was already in trouble.

Trying to shake off the effect Freen had on her, she smirked. "Don’t tell anyone," Becky teased, desperate to distract herself from how fast her heart was beating.

Freen chuckled, shaking her head as she glanced back at Becky with a glint of mischief. "No promises."

And just like that, Becky knew—this date was going to ruin her in the best way possible.

______________________________

Becky led Freen toward the parking lot, her hands tucked into her pockets to keep from fidgeting. Her heartbeat had been slightly out of control since Freen had stepped into view after practice, but she was doing her best to play it cool.

Freen, on the other hand, was still twirling one of the tulip petals between her fingers, occasionally stealing glances at Becky as they walked.

When they reached Becky’s car, Freen raised a brow. "So… where are we going?"

Becky smirked, opening the door for her. "That’s for me to know and for you to find out."

Freen let out a soft chuckle but didn’t press further. Instead, she slid into the seat, settling in comfortably as Becky walked around to the driver’s side.

The drive was quiet—but not the awkward kind.

The kind where the air hummed with an unspoken something.

The soft pitter-patter of the rain on the windshield, the city lights flickering past, the faint scent of Becky’s cologne filling the car—it all felt oddly intimate.

Becky could feel Freen’s gaze flicker toward her every so often, and every time she caught it in her peripheral vision, her fingers gripped the steering wheel just a little tighter.

Not that she was any better. She’d stolen at least five glances herself.

At one point, their eyes met in the reflection of the rearview mirror—just for a second—before Freen looked away, a small, almost knowing smile tugging at her lips.

Becky nearly missed her turn.

Finally, she pulled into a small parking lot and turned off the engine. Freen looked out the window, her eyes scanning the charming little bookstore in front of them.

She didn’t say anything at first. Just sat there, taking it in.

Becky suddenly felt a little nervous.

"You volunteer at the library for extra credits," she started, rubbing the back of her neck, "and you’re a theater student, so I figured you’d love this bookstore."

She glanced over, searching for a reaction.

Freen turned to her then, something warm and almost shy flickering in her expression.

And then—a small, touched smile.

It was so soft, so genuine, that Becky felt like she might actually melt into the driver’s seat.

"You figured right," Freen murmured, voice light with something Becky couldn’t quite place.

Becky barely had time to register the warmth blooming in her chest before Freen opened her door and stepped out into the cool evening air.

Becky let out a breath, ran a hand through her hair, and muttered to herself, "Okay, round two. You got this."

Then, she followed Freen inside.

The tiny bell above the door jingled softly as they stepped inside, the warm scent of old pages and freshly brewed coffee wrapping around them like a cozy embrace. The bookstore was exactly the kind Becky had imagined when she planned this date—floor-to-ceiling shelves, soft golden lighting, and a faint hum of indie music playing from unseen speakers.

It felt… intimate. A place meant for hushed conversations and stolen glances.

Becky had always liked bookstores, but watching Freen move through one? That was something else entirely.

She lingered near a poetry section, pretending to browse, but really, she was watching her . The way Freen’s fingers traced along book spines with a quiet reverence, the way she tilted her head when a title caught her eye, how she bit her lip ever so slightly in thought.

Becky sighed, defeated. I’m so doomed.

Freen, completely unaware of Becky’s mental crisis, picked up a book and flipped through the pages. Becky took the moment to regain some composure before strolling up beside her, peering over her shoulder.

"You know," she mused, crossing her arms, "if you’re trying to impress me with your literary taste… it’s working."

Freen laughed, low and soft, but she didn’t look away from the book. "I don’t need to try that hard."

Becky felt that one hit straight to her chest. Okay. So we’re flirting now? Cool. Totally fine.

She shook her head with a grin, but before she could deliver a proper comeback, Freen turned to put the book back, and suddenly, their hands brushed.

It was the lightest of touches—fingertips barely grazing—but it sent a jolt through Becky’s spine.

Freen stilled for half a second, and Becky swore she caught the way her breath hitched, but then she recovered just as quickly, flipping through another book like nothing happened. Like she didn’t just set Becky’s nerves on fire.

This date was going to kill her.

Freen, now thoroughly amused, glanced at Becky from under her lashes. "You’re staring."

Becky scoffed, looking dramatically offended. "I was appreciating your refined taste in literature."

"Uh-huh," Freen teased, but there was the tiniest dusting of pink on her cheeks before she turned away.

Becky smirked. Finally, a win.

They wandered through the store, lost in quiet conversation, sneaking glances when they thought the other wasn’t looking.

At some point, Freen picked up a book and held it out. "This one. You should read it."

Becky raised a brow. "Oh? Handpicking my reading list now?"

"Just trust me," Freen said with a small smile, pressing it into Becky’s hands.

Becky looked down at the book, fingers lingering where Freen’s had just been, and she couldn’t stop the way her heart squeezed.

"Okay," she murmured, soft and sure.

After checking out at the register, Becky picked up their bag of books, flashing a grin at Freen. "Alright, what’s next? Or do we just sit here and read until the shop closes?"

Freen smirked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Tempting… but I have a feeling you have more surprises up your sleeve."

Becky, in fact, did.

"Come on," she said, nudging Freen toward the door. "I know a place."

And just like that, they stepped back into the evening air, the rain now reduced to a light drizzle, making the streets shimmer under the glow of streetlights.

The next stop? A string of cozy little thrift stores and boutique shops lining the street.

Freen’s eyes lit up at the sight of a vintage store tucked between two cafés, and Becky mentally patted herself on the back. Good call.

They wandered inside, moving from racks of sweaters to shelves of antique trinkets.

At one point, Becky dramatically threw on an oversized, ridiculously patterned sweater and struck a pose.

"What do you think?" she asked, spinning around with her arms wide.

Freen bit back a laugh, shaking her head. "You look like someone’s grandpa."

"A stylish grandpa," Becky corrected, grinning.

Freen smirked, crossing her arms. "Debatable."

Becky gasped in mock offense before grabbing an equally ridiculous fuzzy hat and placing it on Freen’s head.

"Now you look like someone’s lost grandma," she teased.

Freen’s laugh was soft, but real. The kind Becky wanted to bottle up and replay forever.

They continued wandering, fingers grazing over warm wool scarves and handcrafted jewelry, until they passed a small street vendor selling handmade rings.

Becky stopped, pretending to inspect them seriously.

Then, without thinking too much, she picked a simple silver band and slid it onto Freen’s finger.

"Looks good on you," she mused, tilting her head as if she were simply making an observation.

Freen glanced down at her hand, clearly caught off guard.

"Becky—"

"It’s not a proposal," Becky interrupted smoothly, grinning.

Then, a pause.

"Unless you want it to be."

Freen blushed.

Not just a little. A full-on, noticeable rosy flush creeping up her cheeks.

It was the first real crack in her usual cool composure, and Becky’s heart did several flips.

She had to physically stop herself from smirking too much.

Freen looked away, fiddling with the ring, before muttering under her breath, "You’re insufferable."

But the way she kept the ring on?

Yeah. Becky counted that as a win.

As they stepped out of the last boutique, the cool evening air greeted them, the gentle drizzle now replaced by a crisp breeze.

Freen glanced down at the ring still snug on her finger, a small, unreadable smile playing on her lips.

"So," Becky started, shoving her hands into her pockets, suddenly feeling a little nervous. "I figured we could end the night somewhere warm?"

Freen raised a brow. "Are you kidnapping me?"

Becky snorted, shaking her head. "Tempting. But no. Just one last stop."

Freen hummed, amused. "Lead the way, then."

The café was perfect.

Soft, golden lights gave everything a warm glow, the low hum of conversations filling the space like a comforting background song. The scent of fresh coffee and pastries wrapped around them like a hug as they settled into a cozy booth tucked near the window.

Freen pulled off her coat, the sleeves of her sweater slightly too long, making her look even softer under the warm lighting. Becky swallowed, feeling completely, utterly doomed.

They talked about everything—small, silly things and deeper, quieter thoughts.

Freen told Becky about the play she was working on, her eyes lighting up as she explained her character’s motivations. Becky, in turn, talked about football—how it wasn’t just a sport to her, but a way to push herself, to get lost in the rhythm of movement.

Somewhere between sipping coffee and stealing glances, something shifted.

Becky fidgeted with her mug, her thumb tracing the rim absentmindedly.

The words sat on her tongue, heavy, real.

"I wanted this date to be… perfect. For you."

Her voice was quieter than usual, almost hesitant.

Freen stilled for half a second before placing her hand over Becky’s.

Warm. Steady.

"It already is."

Becky looked up, and in that moment, under the golden glow of the café lights, with Freen’s hand resting gently over hers, she realized—

Yeah. She was in trouble.

__________________________

The air outside was crisp, carrying the scent of rain-soaked pavement and fresh coffee as they stepped out of the café.

The drizzle had turned into something heavier now, a soft yet steady downpour that misted against their skin. Becky instinctively reached for Freen’s wrist, tugging her towards the closest awning, their laughter spilling into the night.

Freen shook out her damp hair, her sweater slightly clinging to her, her cheeks flushed from the cold—or maybe something else.

Becky wasn’t sure if it was the rain or the way Freen looked at her that was making her breath hitch.

Drops of water clung to Freen’s lashes, her lips slightly parted, her expression unreadable—but there was something in her eyes, something soft, something waiting.

Becky exhaled, heart thudding.

"This is probably the part where I should kiss you."

Freen’s breath caught, and then, in a voice barely above a whisper—

"You should."

The world blurred around them—the rain, the streetlights, the distant hum of the city. None of it mattered.

Becky stepped forward, her hand ghosting along Freen’s jaw before cupping it gently, as if giving Freen one last chance to pull away.

But Freen didn’t.

She tilted her head ever so slightly, silent permission, quiet yearning.

Then, Becky leaned in slowly and finally kissed her.

It was warm, slow, the kind of kiss that didn’t rush but unraveled. The kind that lingered.

Freen’s fingers clutched at the fabric of Becky’s shirt, gripping it tightly like she never wanted to let go.

The rain poured harder, soaking through their clothes, but neither of them cared.

Freen kissed her back, soft and sure, like a quiet confession. Like something falling into place.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads barely brushing, Freen let out a small, breathless laugh.

Her smile was shy but so, so happy.

"Yeah… you should’ve done that sooner."

Becky laughed, her chest full, light, something utterly weightless.

She was completely, hopelessly gone for her.

And for the first time, she was pretty sure Freen was too.

:')