Andrew opened the door, and there was Willa. Leaning on one hand at her hip, she wore a fitted black leather jacket, a long light-colored shirt underneath, and shiny leggings that clung like a second skin. The look was completed with long necklaces and an expression sowhere between bored and inquisitive, as if she were already prepared to judge him before they even started.
She had arrived in her own car, which, unlike Haley's pink one, was dark, parked right in front of the house.
Andrew gave a faint smile, raising the smoothie glass he had in his hand. "On ti as always…" he remarked, with a hint of surprise in his voice that didn't go unnoticed.
Willa arched a brow. "And what's wrong with being on ti?"
"Nothing. Just that I wouldn't have guessed you were the kind of person who never misses a beat when it cos to punctuality," Andrew replied with a small grin, one annoying enough from Willa's point of view.
Her brow furrowed slightly. "I'm punctual because I see it as a principle. I hate people who are late, except for the rare exception."
Andrew shrugged, trying to smooth things over. "I'm not saying it's a bad thing, not at all. I just ant that, with your outfit…" he gave her a quick once-over, "…you look more like the rebellious type, the one who breaks rules and always shows up late to class."
Willa's style wasn't colorful or "catalogue-perfect," but neither was it fully goth. More of a middle ground: dark tones, leather, attitude. It gave her a vibe that was equal parts enigmatic and defiant.
She narrowed her eyes. "So you're calling late just by looking at my clothes? Great start, Andrew. You're already earning negative points for this practice session."
Andrew raised both hands in a truce. "Relax. I was just making an observation. Besides, the outfit looks really good on you."
"Oh, yeah? How good?" she asked, a faint smile curving her lips, pleased with the complint.
"Ten out of ten," Andrew said, giving a thumbs-up, shooting her another quick glance. Their eyes t, and the silence stretched just a fraction longer than normal.
Andrew thought the silence was strange. It seed to carry a subtle tension, unspoken, but there, that he had never felt with her before. It had appeared ever since he broke up with Pippa a little over ten days ago.
The acting lessons had resud the day after the Bosco ga, on Saturday. Since then, he'd had five full sessions, and this was going to be the sixth. Roughly an hour each, and Andrew threw himself into them with near-obsessive seriousness, because his competitive streak wouldn't allow him to let Claire win in their eternal prank war.
If it had been up to him, he would've started back on October 1st. But back then, he was still with Pippa, and asking Willa for private lessons would have been like throwing gasoline on a relationship that was already burning with tension.
Andrew shook off the thought quickly. They were friends, nothing more. He had just co out of a relationship that lasted over a year; he couldn't start entertaining hypothetical romances. He was still processing Pippa's absence in his life.
The last few days had been a whirlwind of practices, press, ga, and dia noise. That had pushed the breakup into the background, but the emptiness remained.
"Ahem… you gonna co in or what?" Andrew finally broke the odd silence.
"Oh, yeah," she replied, brushing her hair back with a casual gesture before stepping inside.
Andrew closed the door and followed her into the living room, where they usually held the sessions. Willa set her bag down on the coffee table and took off her jacket.
"And your parents?" she asked, glancing around. The house was surprisingly quiet, no theatrical voice of Cam, no serious comntary from Mitchell, no Lily tantrums echoing anywhere.
"They went to the supermarket for supplies," Andrew said, taking a sip of his smoothie before setting it on the table. "So we've got ten minutes, if we're lucky, before the chaos starts: Cam barging into the lessons like he's a theater professor, Mitch saying this is madness and a psycho joke, or Lily throwing a tantrum to get our attention."
He said it with a resigned smile, like soone who had already accepted the routine of his own family.
It felt weird to call them by na, but saying "Dad" was even more confusing. Which one did he an? Cam or Mitch? And when he had to talk about them with others, it was even trickier.
Dad 1 and Dad 2?
Willa let out a laugh and flopped onto the couch. "I can't wait to see Lily, she's so adorable…"
Andrew shot her a skeptical look. "Did you co here to my little sister or to give acting lessons?" he said in a critical tone.
It wasn't the first ti. In past sessions, Willa had ended up paying more attention to Lily than to him. And lately, for so reason, the little girl seed determined to monopolize Willa's attention every ti she saw her.
Could it be that she was missing a female figure in a house full of n?
Mitch and Cam always worried way too much about that.
"I can play with Lily and still give you pointers. Not that you're going to improve, you suck at acting… But I don't have a choice, I already said I'd help you," Willa replied, crossing her arms with a mocking smile.
"Ouch, I rember last year you said I wasn't that bad," Andrew shot back, pretending to be wounded.
"What I said was that you'd improved compared to when you first started. Although, I'll admit, right now you're just as bad, or worse… you're making doubt my skills as a teacher," Willa sighed, shaking her head.
Andrew was stubborn, too stubborn. And since this year he had ti to prepare for Halloween, he didn't want Willa to be the one faking the attack like last year when he had no other option.
'If I were the one faking the attack… I could spend another whole Halloween with him,' Willa thought for a second, before quickly shoving the idea aside.
"All right, enough talk. Let's start the lesson," Willa ordered, her tone vague.
"You could at least pretend to be excited," Andrew protested.
"Oh, trust ," Willa began with sarcasm, "I'm thrilled to see how you plan to ruin Halloween by faking a heart attack. Or better yet, make a fool of yourself and let your aunt laugh at you."
Andrew, standing with his arms crossed, didn't flinch at her sharp sarcasm. "Laugh all you want, but you'll still have to deal with and stress out while teaching . I'm not giving up. Besides, it's not like you have anything better to do. For soone who graduated high school months ago… I'd say you're unemployed. Is Hollywood in crisis or what?"
Willa narrowed her eyes, torn between smirking at his boldness or shooting him a glare. Few his age, let alone younger boys, dared to challenge her like that.
"First you say I look like the type who's always late, and now you're calling unemployed. You're pretty brave today, Andrew…" she said as she rose from the couch and closed the distance between them.
"What can I say?" Andrew replied with a calm smile, not stepping back an inch. "I said I'd beat Bosco, and here I am."
Willa froze.
The mory hit her hard. The atmosphere of the ga was still vivid in her mind: thousands of Bosco supporters booing, whistling, hurling insults at Andrew. On top of that, the massive dia pressure leading up to the ga and the online haters who had always wanted to see him fall.
And yet, Andrew had remained calm. Too calm. With that infuriating composure that drove both rivals and haters crazy. And he did it while crushing Bosco like they were an insect, delivering what had been the single greatest individual performance in Trinity League history… maybe in any league at that level.
Willa fell silent. She stared at him, as if searching for a crack in that self-assurance. Was there anything that could make him nervous?
The very question unsettled her, because the answer didn't co. Andrew carried himself with a serenity so steady on the field, under pressure, that it felt almost unnatural for a sixteen-year-old. And the worst part was that sa calm radiated off the field, too.
She wasn't fully aware of it, but that blend of confidence, talent, and stubbornness was beginning to exert a quiet magnetism on her. One she didn't want to admit.
The silence crept back in, heavy, and Andrew frowned slightly, not understanding why that strange void had fallen between them again.
'Why again?' Andrew wondered, confused by the question forming in his head.
Then Willa's blue eyes shifted behind him, toward the corner of the living room. "Did Cam go back to cutting and pasting newspapers again?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.
Andrew pivoted on his heels and didn't need to answer right away. The corner spoke for itself.
The trophy case glead under the light streaming through the window: championships won with Palisades, MVP awards from state, regional, and league finals; plaques for being the best player in CIF Division 5 and then Division 4; and finally, the MVP trophy from the sumr tournant in Dana Hills, with those 41 touchdowns in 7 gas.
Soon, almost certainly, the Trinity League MVP award would be there too. No matter what he did in tomorrow's ga: with his current stats and Mater Dei already locked into the playoffs, no one could argue he was the best player in the league.
And, of course, the most recent addition: a collage of press clippings Cam had insisted on framing.
The Orange County Register, Los Angeles Tis, ESPN, even The New York Tis, which rarely spared space for a West Coast high school player, but had surrendered to the storyline: a teenager shattering records with video-ga numbers, dragging 1.3 million people in front of a TV on a Friday night.
All the headlines hamred ho the sa mantra over and over: "7 touchdowns, 1.3 million viewers, historic record."
Andrew sighed, placing his hands on his hips. "Yeah, he did it again. He doesn't miss a single headline. It's like he's got radar," he said with a resigned smile, long since used to it.
In the end, if that made his dad happy, who was he to complain?
Willa watched him in silence. What surprised her most wasn't the clippings, the trophies, or the dia echo. It was him. Andrew looked at it all without a trace of arrogance, without that bloated ego she'd seen in so many athletes.
Finally, she couldn't hold back the question. "Doesn't all this overwhelm you?" she asked, pointing at one of the frad papers that called him 'the LeBron Jas of high school football.'
"The headlines, the millions following you, the people waiting for you to crush it tomorrow… and also the ones who just want to see you fail. Don't you feel like it's too much for just being in high school?"
Andrew stayed quiet for a mont. In truth, he did think it was too much for high school. Not in the sense that it crushed him, but he hadn't expected everything to escalate this fast.
Last year at Palisades he had his YouTube channel with over a million subscribers, and he was already breaking multiple division, regional, and state records. But it was different.
At Palisades he had been big, sure, but Mater Dei was on another scale. In just a few months, everything had multiplied tenfold. The noise, the caras, the expectations. Willa had noticed it, and he had too, but instead of breaking him, it had been a pleasant surprise.
Andrew paused another second, as if searching for the exact way to respond. Then he shrugged.
"Not really. Of course I feel sothing, I'm not made of stone, but I use it. It feeds . It's part of the ga," he said calmly. "If I spent my days overthinking, I couldn't even live. Being nervous doesn't help before a ga starts. I'd rather turn all of it into fuel to focus."
"Besides, this will only multiply in college, or if I ever make it to the NFL. Better to start getting used to it now," he added, as if he had no choice.
Willa studied him for a few seconds in silence. And though she tried to keep a straight face, the corner of her lips curved into an amused smile. "All right then, Mr. Nothing Makes Nervous," she said with a hint of challenge. "Let's see if you can keep that calm right now."
Andrew raised an eyebrow but didn't reply. He just nodded, as if to say I'm ready.
The acting lesson began, as always, with Willa taking command of the space and Andrew obeying reluctantly, but refusing to give in. They had barely started when the front door opened and familiar voices flooded the house.
"We're ho!" Cam sing-songed, dragging several grocery bags in each hand. Mitchell ca in behind him, a bit more serious, carrying Lily.
"Willa, darling!" Cam greeted her when he saw her, with the sa ease as if running into an old friend. "What a pleasure to have you here again."
"Hi, Willa," said Mitchell with a cordial nod, while Lily was already asking for her toys and wanting to start a play session with her.
"Hi," Willa replied with a smile. Her tone was kind, almost sweet, a huge contrast to the constant sarcasm she used with Andrew, Leonard, Howard, and company.
The lesson continued without pause. Andrew survived every biting correction, every gesture Willa made him repeat again and again. The clock ticked relentlessly until, almost without noticing, the hands landed on seven sharp. A full hour.
Andrew collapsed onto the couch with a long sigh. He had survived an activity that not only pulled him out of his comfort zone but also left him ntally exhausted.
Willa, sipping a glass of water, looked at him with a half-smile. "Lesson over. You've improved… at a baby's pace. If we keep this up, you'll be able to pull off the prank on Halloween… in about ten years. Or better yet, let future Lily do it for you. She'll definitely have better acting talent than you."
Andrew snorted but said nothing.
Willa started gathering her things when Cam popped back into the scene.
"Willa! Stay for dinner with us. Paynt for teaching Andrew your craft," he said enthusiastically.
Willa looked at him, then turned toward Andrew. He was still sprawled on the couch, shrugging lazily as if to say do whatever you want.
"Well… all right, I'll stay, thanks," Willa finally agreed, not overthinking it.
"Perfect!" Cam exclaid, beaming. "Dinner will be ready in half an hour."
And with that signature energy, he disappeared toward the kitchen.
"So, now what?" Willa asked, glancing at Andrew with curiosity.
Andrew got up slowly, stretching his arms, and cast a quick look around. Lily was nowhere in sight, probably busy in her toy kingdom.
"Let's go to my room," he said, nodding toward the hallway.
"What for?" Willa asked, arching a brow with a half-smile.
"To get revenge for the torture you just put through for the last hour. A ga of Call of Duty," Andrew replied.
Willa burst out laughing. "Seriously? A versus match?" she said, amused as she stood up. "You're that bitter, huh?"
"Very," Andrew shot back, leading the way down the hall to his room.
"Perfect. I'm not going to hold back just because you're the Jesus Christ of high school football," she teased as she followed him.
Andrew rolled his eyes at that ridiculous nickna that had popped up online. "I'm also the Jesus Christ of Call of Duty."
"You're light-years away from pulling off in Call of Duty what you do in football," Willa joked as she stepped into the room with Andrew.
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