Offside Heart.

‎CHAPTER ONE

‎

‎The Captain's Weakness

‎

‎The corridor leading to Greenville High's football pitch was louder than usual.

‎

‎Boots thudded against the tiled floor.

‎

‎Lockers slammed shut.

‎

‎Someone was yelling about missing shin guards.

‎

‎Someone else was arguing over who had stolen his water bottle.

‎

‎The familiar smell of grass drifted in through the open doors ahead, mixing with the sharp scent of sweat and the faint smell of the energy drinks the boys had been passing around before the match.

‎

‎It was game day.

‎

‎And everyone was excited.

‎

‎Everyone except Leon Hart.

‎

‎The captain walked in the middle of his teammates with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his shoulders slightly hunched and his eyes fixed somewhere ahead.

‎

‎He hadn't cracked a joke.

‎

‎Hadn't insulted anyone.

‎

‎Hadn't even complained about Marcus walking too slowly.

‎

‎That alone was suspicious.

‎

‎Marcus Rashford noticed.

‎

‎He always noticed.

‎

‎He slowed down until he was walking beside Leon.

‎

‎“Bro.”

‎

‎Leon didn't answer.

‎

‎Marcus looked at him.

‎

‎“Captain.”

‎

‎Nothing.

‎

‎“Leon Hart.”

‎

‎Leon finally turned his head.

‎

‎“What?”

‎

‎Marcus stared at him for a moment.

‎

‎“Are you alive?”

‎

‎Leon frowned.

‎

‎“Obviously.”

‎

‎“Okay.”

‎

‎Marcus nodded seriously.

‎

‎“Just checking.”

‎

‎Leon rolled his eyes and kept walking.

‎

‎Marcus followed.

‎

‎“You've been quiet for like fifteen minutes.”

‎

‎“So?”

‎

‎“So something is wrong.”

‎

‎“Nothing is wrong.”

‎

‎“You're lying.”

‎

‎“I'm not.”

‎

‎“You didn't even complain when Jay stepped on your shoe.”

‎

‎Leon glanced down at his boot.

‎

‎Jay had, in fact, stepped directly on it.

‎

‎Leon looked back at Marcus.

‎

‎“Jay.”

‎

‎Jay turned.

‎

‎“Yeah?”

‎

‎“You stepped on my shoe.”

‎

‎Jay grinned.

‎

‎“There he is.”

‎

‎The entire group burst into laughter.

‎

‎Leon shook his head.

‎

‎“Idiots.”

‎

‎Marcus laughed.

‎

‎“See? You're finally talking.”

‎

‎Leon tried to hide his smile.

‎

‎It didn't work.

‎

‎One of the defenders walked past them.

‎

‎“It's his girlfriend.”

‎

‎Leon immediately stopped smiling.

‎

‎The team went silent for half a second.

‎

‎Then—

‎

‎“OHHHH!”

‎

‎Marcus nearly jumped.

‎

‎“I knew it!”

‎

‎Leon groaned.

‎

‎“Don't start.”

‎

‎“She's angry with you, isn't she?”

‎

‎“No.”

‎

‎“Then why do you look like someone cancelled Christmas?”

‎

‎“Marcus.”

‎

‎“What did you do?”

‎

‎“Nothing.”

‎

‎The boys laughed again.

‎

‎“Nothing?”

‎

‎“That word is never followed by anything good,” Jay said.

‎

‎Leon rubbed his forehead.

‎

‎“She’s just annoyed.”

‎

‎Marcus put a hand over his heart.

‎

‎“Why?”

‎

‎“It's none of your business.”

‎

‎“So you definitely did something.”

‎

‎“I said she's annoyed.”

‎

‎“Exactly.”

‎

‎Leon gave him a warning look.

‎

‎Marcus immediately raised both hands.

‎

‎“Okay, okay.”

‎

‎Then he grinned.

‎

‎“But if you play like this because you're thinking about your girlfriend, Coach is going to bury you alive.”

‎

‎Leon scoffed.

‎

‎“I can play.”

‎

‎“Sure.”

‎

‎“I can.”

‎

‎“Then prove it.”

‎

‎Leon looked toward the doors leading outside.

‎

‎The roar of the crowd suddenly rolled through the corridor.

‎

‎His teammates started cheering.

‎

‎“Let's go!”

‎

‎“Come on!”

‎

‎“Greenville!”

‎

‎The tension inside Leon's chest shifted.

‎

‎He pulled his hands from his pockets and adjusted the captain's armband around his arm.

‎

‎Marcus bumped his shoulder.

‎

‎“There he is.”

‎

‎Leon smirked.

‎

‎“Let's go win.”

‎

‎The boys stormed onto the pitch.

‎

‎The stadium erupted.

‎

‎Hundreds of students filled the stands, waving school banners and shouting themselves hoarse.

‎

‎Leon took a deep breath.

‎

‎This was where he belonged.

‎

‎The pitch.

‎

‎The crowd.

‎

‎The pressure.

‎

‎The game.

‎

‎The referee blew the whistle.

‎

‎And everything changed.

‎

‎---

‎

‎The first ten minutes were ugly.

‎

‎Greenville struggled to settle into the game.

‎

‎Westbrook Academy pressed aggressively, refusing to give Leon or Marcus enough space to build an attack.

‎

‎Leon chased the ball across the pitch.

‎

‎He intercepted a pass.

‎

‎Lost possession.

‎

‎Won it back.

‎

‎Tried to send it forward.

‎

‎The pass went straight to an opponent.

‎

‎“COME ON, HART!” Coach Miller shouted.

‎

‎Leon clenched his jaw.

‎

‎“I'm trying!”

‎

‎“Try harder!”

‎

‎Marcus ran past him.

‎

‎“Forget it. Focus!”

‎

‎Leon nodded.

‎

‎The next attack came quickly.

‎

‎Marcus sent the ball toward him.

‎

‎Leon controlled it.

‎

‎One defender approached.

‎

‎Leon moved left.

‎

‎The defender followed.

‎

‎He moved right.

‎

‎Another player closed in.

‎

‎Leon tried to push through.

‎

‎A shoulder slammed into him.

‎

‎He stumbled.

‎

‎The referee blew the whistle.

‎

‎Leon got back up.

‎

‎“I'm fine.”

‎

‎The defender muttered something under his breath.

‎

‎Leon ignored him.

‎

‎But in the stands, someone didn't.

‎

‎Seraph had been watching.

‎

‎She sat between Naomi and Suzanne, her arms folded tightly across her chest.

‎

‎She had told herself she wasn't coming.

‎

‎She had told Naomi she was only there because the girls wanted to watch the match.

‎

‎She had also spent ten minutes before leaving home deciding whether or not she should be annoyed with Leon.

‎

‎She was still annoyed.

‎

‎Very annoyed.

‎

‎But the second she saw him on the pitch, that annoyance became difficult to maintain.

‎

‎“He looks stressed,” Naomi said.

‎

‎Seraph nodded.

‎

‎“He is.”

‎

‎Suzanne looked between them.

‎

‎“You two are exhausting.”

‎

‎Seraph ignored her.

‎

‎Leon received the ball again.

‎

‎A player tackled him.

‎

‎He fell.

‎

‎Seraph flinched.

‎

‎Her hand tightened around the bottle she was holding.

‎

‎“He's okay,” Naomi said.

‎

‎“I know.”

‎

‎Another tackle.

‎

‎Another collision.

‎

‎Seraph flinched again.

‎

‎Suzanne laughed.

‎

‎“You're going to do that every time, aren't you?”

‎

‎“No.”

‎

‎Leon got up.

‎

‎Seraph watched him.

‎

‎“...Maybe.”

‎

‎---

‎

‎Thirty minutes into the match, Greenville was still struggling.

‎

‎Then Westbrook scored.

‎

‎The stadium fell silent.

‎

‎0–1.

‎

‎Leon stood near the center of the pitch with his hands on his hips.

‎

‎He stared at the scoreboard.

‎

‎Then at his teammates.

‎

‎His jaw tightened.

‎

‎The referee restarted the match.

‎

‎Leon tried to push harder.

‎

‎But somehow, everything went wrong.

‎

‎He overhit a pass.

‎

‎Missed an easy chance.

‎

‎Lost possession.

‎

‎Then missed another.

‎

‎Coach Miller looked like he was about to explode.

‎

‎Finally—

‎

‎“HALF TIME!”

‎

‎The whistle blew.

‎

‎Leon walked toward the locker room.

‎

‎He hadn't even reached the door before Coach Miller's voice echoed behind him.

‎

‎“HART!”

‎

‎Leon stopped.

‎

‎Slowly, he turned around.

‎

‎Coach Miller was marching toward him.

‎

‎“I'm going to kill you.”

‎

‎The players immediately started laughing.

‎

‎Leon blinked.

‎

‎“What?”

‎

‎“What?”

‎

‎Coach Miller pointed at him.

‎

‎“What was that first half?”

‎

‎Leon looked toward the pitch.

‎

‎“I played badly.”

‎

‎“Badly?”

‎

‎Coach Miller laughed without humor.

‎

‎“You played like you forgot how football works!”

‎

‎Marcus covered his mouth.

‎

‎Leon shot him a look.

‎

‎“Don't laugh.”

‎

‎“I'm not.”

‎

‎“You are.”

‎

‎“I'm breathing.”

‎

‎Coach Miller grabbed Leon by the shoulders and turned him toward the locker room.

‎

‎“Inside.”

‎

‎Leon obeyed.

‎

‎Coach Miller followed.

‎

‎The boys gathered around.

‎

‎“Sit.”

‎

‎Leon sat on the bench.

‎

‎“Water.”

‎

‎He grabbed his bottle.

‎

‎“Drink.”

‎

‎He drank.

‎

‎“More.”

‎

‎Leon sighed and drank again.

‎

‎Marcus leaned toward Jay.

‎

‎“He's finished.”

‎

‎Leon heard him.

‎

‎“I can hear you.”

‎

‎Marcus smiled.

‎

‎“I know.”

‎

‎Coach Miller crouched in front of Leon.

‎

‎“Look at me.”

‎

‎Leon did.

‎

‎“Whatever is bothering you, forget it.”

‎

‎Leon nodded.

‎

‎“You're our captain. When you lose your head, everybody else loses theirs too.”

‎

‎Leon glanced around the room.

‎

‎His teammates were quiet now.

‎

‎Listening.

‎

‎Coach Miller continued.

‎

‎“You've got forty-five minutes to fix this.”

‎

‎Leon nodded.

‎

‎“I will.”

‎

‎“Good.”

‎

‎Coach Miller stood.

‎

‎Then he grabbed Leon by the back of his jersey.

‎

‎“Because if you come back out there and play like that again, I'm personally taking your captain's armband.”

‎

‎Leon immediately sat straighter.

‎

‎“You wouldn't.”

‎

‎“Try me.”

‎

‎Marcus snorted.

‎

‎Leon looked at him.

‎

‎“Don't.”

‎

‎Marcus raised his hands.

‎

‎“I'm saying nothing.”

‎

‎Coach Miller walked away.

‎

‎Marcus leaned closer.

‎

‎“You're in trouble.”

‎

‎Leon sighed.

‎

‎“I know.”

‎

‎Then the doors opened.

‎

‎The second half was about to begin.

‎

‎---

‎

‎Seraph and her friends had moved closer to the front row.

‎

‎“Why are we here?” Seraph asked.

‎

‎Naomi smiled.

‎

‎“Better view.”

‎

‎“You're ridiculous.”

‎

‎“You're welcome.”

‎

‎Seraph shook her head.

‎

‎Then she saw Leon walking back onto the pitch.

‎

‎Their eyes met.

‎

‎Leon stopped for half a second.

‎

‎She didn't smile.

‎

‎He did.

‎

‎She looked away.

‎

‎Leon laughed quietly.

‎

‎Marcus walked past him.

‎

‎“You're smiling now?”

‎

‎Leon shrugged.

‎

‎“Shut up.”

‎

‎“You saw her.”

‎

‎“No.”

‎

‎“You absolutely saw her.”

‎

‎Leon grinned.

‎

‎Marcus shook his head.

‎

‎“Hopeless.”

‎

‎The whistle blew.

‎

‎And Leon changed.

‎

‎The first attack came.

‎

‎Leon sprinted.

‎

‎He stole the ball.

‎

‎Passed it to Marcus.

‎

‎Marcus returned it.

‎

‎Leon pushed forward.

‎

‎A defender tackled him.

‎

‎He stayed up.

‎

‎Another came.

‎

‎He slipped past him.

‎

‎The crowd erupted.

‎

‎Seraph leaned forward.

‎

‎“Come on, Leon.”

‎

‎He heard the roar.

‎

‎Maybe he didn't hear her specifically.

‎

‎But somehow, he felt it.

‎

‎He played harder.

‎

‎Faster.

‎

‎Sharper.

‎

‎Every pass had purpose.

‎

‎Every movement was deliberate.

‎

‎He sent a perfect ball across the box.

‎

‎Marcus met it.

‎

‎GOAL.

‎

‎The stadium exploded.

‎

‎1–1.

‎

‎Marcus sprinted toward Leon.

‎

‎“That assist!”

‎

‎Leon laughed.

‎

‎“Get back!”

‎

‎“We're winning this!”

‎

‎Leon looked toward the stands.

‎

‎Seraph was smiling now.

‎

‎And that smile felt like fuel.

‎

‎---

‎

‎The final ten minutes became chaos.

‎

‎Westbrook attacked.

‎

‎Greenville defended.

‎

‎Leon was everywhere.

‎

‎He intercepted passes.

‎

‎Created chances.

‎

‎Took hits.

‎

‎Got back up.

‎

‎Every time he went down, Seraph flinched.

‎

‎“Seraph,” Suzanne said, laughing, “you're going to faint before he does.”

‎

‎“Stop.”

‎

‎“You're worried.”

‎

‎“Of course I'm worried.”

‎

‎Leon took another hard hit.

‎

‎Seraph stood.

‎

‎“Leon!”

‎

‎He looked toward the stands.

‎

‎Their eyes met.

‎

‎He gave her a quick thumbs-up.

‎

‎I'm okay.

‎

‎She sat back down.

‎

‎Her heart was still racing.

‎

‎The clock continued.

‎

‎89:12.

‎

‎Greenville needed one more goal.

‎

‎The crowd was beginning to lose hope.

‎

‎Then Marcus won the ball.

‎

‎He passed to Leon.

‎

‎Leon ran.

‎

‎One defender.

‎

‎Two.

‎

‎Three.

‎

‎He was exhausted.

‎

‎But he kept going.

‎

‎The keeper stepped forward.

‎

‎Leon could shoot.

‎

‎Instead, he saw Marcus making a run.

‎

‎He passed.

‎

‎Marcus struck the ball.

‎

‎GOAL.

‎

‎The stadium exploded.

‎

‎2–1.

‎

‎The referee blew the final whistle.

‎

‎Greenville had done it.

‎

‎They had turned the game around.

‎

‎The players rushed toward Leon and Marcus.

‎

‎But Leon had already turned.

‎

‎He ran straight toward the stands.

‎

‎Marcus stopped.

‎

‎Then laughed.

‎

‎“Of course.”

‎

‎The players watched as Leon reached the front row.

‎

‎“Hopeless.”

‎

‎“Absolutely hopeless.”

‎

‎Leon barely heard them.

‎

‎Seraph stood in front of him.

‎

‎“You played better.”

‎

‎Leon smiled.

‎

‎“Because you came.”

‎

‎“I was already here.”

‎

‎“You know what I mean.”

‎

‎She folded her arms.

‎

‎“You still haven't apologized.”

‎

‎“I will.”

‎

‎“When?”

‎

‎“Now.”

‎

‎Leon leaned closer.

‎

‎“I'm sorry.”

‎

‎Seraph tried not to smile.

‎

‎“You're forgiven.”

‎

‎Leon grinned.

‎

‎“Finally.”

‎

‎He reached for her hand.

‎

‎She let him.

‎

‎Then he leaned in and kissed her.

‎

‎For one second, the stadium seemed to freeze.

‎

‎Then—

‎

‎ROOOOOOAR!

‎

‎The crowd erupted.

‎

‎The players started shouting.

‎

‎Marcus threw his hands into the air.

‎

‎“THIS GUY!”

‎

‎Leon pulled away, laughing.

‎

‎Then he looked around at the crowd.

‎

‎With one arm still around Seraph, he shouted loudly enough for everyone nearby to hear—

‎

‎“SHE'S MY GIRL! BACK OFF!”

‎

‎The stadium erupted all over again.

‎

‎Seraph buried her face against his shoulder, embarrassed.

‎

‎Leon just laughed.

‎

‎Marcus shook his head from the pitch.

‎

‎“Captain of Greenville,” he muttered.

‎

‎“Boyfriend of the year.”

‎

‎And Leon?

‎

‎He didn't care about anything else.

‎

‎Not the scoreboard.

‎

‎Not the crowd.

‎

‎Not even Coach Miller's inevitable lecture.

‎

‎Leon Hart looked completely happy.

‎

‎Because his girl was smiling.

‎