Citrus & Turf

"Stevie! We’re going to be late!" I shouted toward the stairs, my voice bouncing off the entryway walls. I adjusted my bag on my shoulder just as my younger brother skidded into the hall, frantically shoving a notebook into his backpack.

"I’m ready, I’m ready! Let’s go," he huffed, trailing me out the front door.

Outside, the humidity was already a physical weight, but I didn't care. I climbed into the driver’s seat of the Mini Cooper convertible—my sixteenth birthday present—and let my fingers trace the curve of the steering wheel. A small, irrepressible smile tugged at my lips. It still felt like a dream.

"I still can't believe Mom and Dad are actually letting you drive us to school," Stevie said, climbing into the passenger seat and looking around the interior like he expected a parental veto at any second.

"Why not?" I reached across him, my hand brushing the visor as I unclasped the convertible latch. "I’m sixteen, I have my license, and this saves Mom and Dad from having to deal with the post-practice pickup. It's a win-win."

Stevie rolled his eyes, but he didn't argue as I hit the button. The mechanical whine of the roof folding back was music to my ears, and suddenly, the harsh Texas sun spilled over us, bright and unapologetic.

"Ready for your first day of high school?" I asked, shifting into reverse and backing carefully out of the driveway.

Stevie took a deep breath, his bravado slipping just enough for me to see the nerves underneath. He gave a sharp, determined nod. "Ready."

We pulled into the high school lot, and I couldn't suppress a smug little grin. The looks were everywhere—lingering glances from seniors and wide-eyed stares from the freshmen. It wasn't just the car; it was the freedom it represented.

"Practice should let out at six," Stevie said, already hauling his gear out of the passenger seat. He’d been working himself to the bone to make the football team this year, and as I followed him toward the main entrance, I felt a sharp prickle of sisterly pride. He looked small among the varsity players, but he walked like he belonged.

Since it was my junior year, the day was a blur of familiar routines. I navigated the halls with the ease of someone who knew exactly where the dead zones for cell service were and which teachers actually checked for hall passes. Most of my classes were the usual first-day slog: syllabus hand-outs, seating charts, and the same “tell us one interesting thing about yourself” icebreakers.

When the final bell finally chimed, I headed for the gymnasium. I’d been on the dance team since my freshman year, and if I played my cards right this season, the captain’s spot was mine next year. Practice was grueling—the kind of sweat that made your skin sting—but it felt good to be back on the floor.

By the time I walked out to the parking lot, the Texas sun had dipped low, turning the sky a bruised purple. I spotted Stevie leaning against the Mini, but he wasn’t alone. He was mid-laugh, talking to someone who looked to be about his age.

I slowed my pace, my bag suddenly feeling heavier. The stranger was built well for fourteen—broad-shouldered and lean—with a sharp jawline and messy brown hair that caught the remnants of the evening light. He stood with a quiet, easy confidence that felt far too steady for a freshman. As I got closer, a strange, frantic little flutter started in my chest.

Stevie caught sight of me first. “There she is! Wait here, let me ask.”

He jogged toward me, leaving the other boy leaning against my car. “Crystal, hey! This is Wayne. He lives two streets down from us. Can we give him a lift home?”

I looked over at him, and for a heartbeat, the rest of the parking lot simply blurred into a dull gray hum. My breath hitched in my throat. His gaze was locked onto mine—a pair of piercing, crystalline blue eyes that felt like they were reaching right through my skin and into my soul.

“Umm... sure,” I managed to stammer. I had to physically force my legs to start moving again. Wayne didn’t look away. His eyes followed my every movement with a steady, unblinking intensity that made my skin prickle.

“He just moved here over the summer,” Stevie continued, oblivious to the sudden static in the air. “I was hoping you wouldn’t mind dropping him off after practice every day. He takes the bus in the mornings, but he doesn’t have a solid ride home yet.”

I climbed into the driver’s seat, the leather warm from the sun. Stevie hopped into the passenger side, and I heard the back seat dip as Wayne climbed in behind me. My hand went instinctively to the rearview mirror to adjust it, and there he was. Our eyes met in the silver reflection, a direct, private line of communication that Stevie couldn’t see.

“We could... we could give him a ride in the mornings, too. If he wants,” I offered. I couldn’t look away from the mirror; I was anchored to his gaze.

Stevie twisted around in his seat to look at his friend, and the spell finally broke. Wayne pulled his eyes from the mirror to look at my brother. “Uhh... yeah. That would be great,” he said, a slow, easy smile spreading across his face.

My heart did another frantic little flip-flop. It was a beautiful smile—warm and genuine—and for a split second, I felt a sharp, ridiculous pang of jealousy that it was directed at Stevie and not me.

The ride home was a blur of Stevie’s excited chatter. He was reliving every play from the afternoon, his voice filled with a rare kind of awe as he praised Wayne’s natural talent on the field. I barely heard a word of it. My world had shrunk to the four-inch rectangle of the rearview mirror. Every time I stole a glance, I found his eyes waiting for mine—steady, unblinking, and dangerously blue.

As we crested the hill toward our neighborhood, I forced myself to break the silence. “So, which street is yours?”

“Uhh...” Wayne leaned forward slightly, his presence suddenly felt much closer to the back of my seat. “My parents won’t be home for a while. Is it cool if I just hang at your place with Stevie until they get back?”

In the mirror, I saw a flicker of something new in his expression. It wasn’t just the easy confidence from before; it was a sharp, quiet curiosity, like he was studying me.

“That’d be awesome!” Stevie practically vibrated in the passenger seat. “I just got the new Call of Duty. We can run a few rounds before dinner.”

My heart hammering, a frantic rhythm that felt way too loud for the small cabin of the car. I could feel Wayne’s gaze still locked onto the back of my head, heavy and expectant.

I tore my eyes away from the mirror and focused on the blacktop of the driveway. “Okay. Our house it is.”

I pulled the Mini into the drive, tucking it in behind my parents’ cars. They were already home for the night, their presence a grounding reminder of reality, even as the air inside my car felt like it was charged with static electricity.

We climbed out of the car, the Texas heat still radiating off the pavement, but I didn’t wait for them. I made for the front door first, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I don’t even know why I did it—it was pure, primal instinct—but I made sure there was a subtle, intentional sway to my walk as I climbed the porch steps. I could feel his gaze on me like a physical touch, heavy and burning.

I pushed through the front door, the blast of the air conditioning hitting my skin like a shock. I heard Stevie’s voice echoing through the house, calling out a casual “We’re home!” to our parents, but I couldn’t stop to chat. I couldn’t even look back.

I headed straight for my room and clicked the door shut behind me. I pressed my back against the wood, eyes squeezed tight, trying to pull air into my lungs. What am I doing? The thought screamed through my head.

In the hallways of our high school, age gaps weren’t exactly a scandal—but there was a hierarchy. An unwritten social law. Boys dated younger girls. Seniors dated sophomores. It wasn’t the “norm.” But a junior girl falling for a freshman? That was a different story. That was a risk.

I slowly slid down the length of the door until I was sitting on the floor, pulling my knees tight against my chest. I needed to breathe. I needed to get back in control of my thoughts, my body... and the sudden, terrifying rush of hormones that Wayne had sparked with nothing more than a look in a rearview mirror.