If Carrie noticed that no one around them seed to react, if she saw the crowd failing to recognize the global icon by her side, suspicion would surely follow.
The disguise gave the illusion consistency. It provided a reason for the world’s blindness.
Still, there was sothing about him—sothing the spell could not entirely erase.
His aura slipped through the cracks, like the heat of a fla bleeding through a thin layer of cloth.
People didn’t know why, but they found their gazes drifting toward him, their hearts beating a touch faster whenever he shifted or moved.
So felt uneasy, others oddly drawn to him, as though their instincts whispered of greatness hidden beneath the veil.
Nina caught herself staring longer than she ant to, a faint chill running down her spine.
She didn’t know who he was, but she knew one thing for certain: that man was not ordinary.
And if she had known the truth—that it was Ross Oakley, one of the most famous personalities in the entire world standing there—her shock would have shaken her to the core.
***
Halfti arrived, and Zack’s team was struggling.
The scoreboard told the story—his side was behind, and badly.
The coach paced furiously along the sidelines, barking orders and berating his players.
"Zack! What was that out there? You’re supposed to be the playmaker, not the dead weight!"
His teammates piled on with frustrated comnts, their voices overlapping.
Zack stood there, jaw tight, absorbing it all.
A bead of sweat ran down his temple, not from the ga, but from the pressure crushing down on him.
Finally, he nodded.
"I’ll do better," he muttered, his voice low but determined.
When the crowd around him settled, Nina slipped closer.
She touched his arm gently, her eyes searching his.
"Catch up in the second half, Zack," she said with quiet conviction. "If anyone can do it, I know it’s you."
Her encouragent made him pause, then sigh. He managed a small smile.
"Thanks, babe. I’ll do my best."
They leaned in for a kiss, but this one felt... different. Hollow.
What used to be natural now felt forced, as though a wall had crept up between them.
When they pulled back, Nina’s chest tightened. She knew exactly why.
Zack’s eyes weren’t only on the ga that day. They had been straying—toward Carrie.
Nina had noticed, and truthfully, she couldn’t even bla him.
Carrie Morton had blossod over the past year.
Her fashion sense had shifted, her confidence sharpened, and she radiated a kind of beauty that was impossible to ignore.
Her hair shone under the stadium lights, her figure accentuated by every movent, her smile enough to captivate.
Even Nina, as much as it stung, had to acknowledge the obvious.
But unlike most girls in her position, Nina didn’t feel crushed with jealousy.
There was a stubborn spark inside her, a certainty that she wasn’t any less than Carrie.
If anything, she believed she could match her, maybe even surpass her, when it ca to beauty and charm.
That thought gave her strength, though it didn’t erase the unease gnawing at her heart.
anwhile, Carrie herself stood among her cheer squad, glowing with the aftereffects of their halfti performance.
The crowd had gone wild for them—especially for her.
Whistles, cheers, complints from boys and even nods of admiration from girls echoed in her ears.
It was nothing new, but it still thrilled her, still reminded her how much she had changed.
She wiped the sweat from her forehead, smiling faintly.
"I’ll just go to the washroom," she said casually, breaking away from the group.
Her friends nodded, still buzzing from the performance, while Carrie slipped out of the spotlight for a mont of solitude. But even as she walked, heads turned.
Boys couldn’t help but track her with their eyes, so whispering to each other, others outright staring.
Girls whispered too—so in envy, so in admiration, and so in barely concealed resentnt.
Carrie was used to it.
She carried herself with effortless grace, as though all of this attention was only natural.
But underneath that calm, her heart raced. Being admired was one thing.
Knowing that her mysterious boyfriend had been there to see her shine—that was sothing else entirely.
And behind her, Zack watched too, jaw tightening as his teammates talked among themselves, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside him.
Nina, standing at his side, noticed the way his gaze lingered.
She bit her lip, pretending not to care, but the truth was clear: halfti wasn’t only a battle on the field anymore.
***
Carrie pushed open the washroom door and slipped inside.
The air was cooler here, carrying the faint scent of disinfectant mixed with perfu.
She expected silence, maybe the drip of a faucet or the shuffle of shoes—but what greeted her instead made her pause instantly.
"Ahhhhhh..."
"Ohhhh... yes..."
"Ughhhhhh..."
"Yes! Fuck harder!"
The sounds were raw, wet, unrestrained.
Nina froze at the threshold.
Her heart skipped a beat before hamring against her ribs, and her hand instinctively shot up to cover her mouth.
That voice—she knew it. She would have recognized it anywhere.
It was Carrie.
Her breath caught. Carrie Morton, the girl every guy stared at, the girl Zack couldn’t take his eyes off, was in here moaning like a wanton slut.
Nina’s first instinct was to leave, to back away quietly and pretend she had heard nothing.
But her legs refused to move. Sothing stronger kept her rooted in place.
A burning curiosity flickered inside her chest, growing hotter with every muffled groan that slipped past the closed stalls.
Against her better judgnt, she stepped forward.
Each movent was careful, deliberate, her shoes barely whispering against the tile floor.
She was terrified of making a sound, terrified of being discovered.
But the pull of the unknown was stronger than her fear.
She drew closer to the last stall, the one where the noises were loudest.
The rhythmic slap of skin against skin echoed behind the door, accompanied by Carrie’s shaless cries.
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