Frank's POV
Almost like an answer to William's question, the sports commentator on TV made a sweeping declaration:
"William is irreplaceable—the undisputed core of the White Wolves!"
I glanced at him.
See?
"They've been aggressively recruiting top high school linemen since the end of last year, all to protect William. You know this—everyone agrees he's the best college quarterback right now. That's why they had zero interest in that four-star QB, Bill."
"Every offensive lineman ST picked? All about shielding William. They're building the entire team around him now."
I muttered, "You know that's not really the reason."
Quite the opposite, actually.
He's too popular, too noticeable. And what we have—"partner" in name only—is the kind of thing no one benefits from if it ever goes public.
"I've got a paper due. I'll come find you next week."
He sipped on his straw, eyes locked on me with that silent, loaded stare. Like he was asking: Are you really gonna leave me behind?
God, even this orange juice tastes too sweet. Even the air in America feels too warm.
Of course, the answer's no.
His hand casually rested on my suitcase. He wasn't like those hot-headed players you could just push away with a fight. He only ever responded to softness—and with me, that line had long since blurred.
"There's still over two weeks before classes start. Don't rush back to your apartment. Come stay with me."
"I had the pool cleaned. Lawn's been mowed. Let's enjoy the last bit of summer sunshine. Oh, and I asked Lily to stock the fridge."
"All your favorite food and drinks," he added, matter-of-factly.
"I told you, I need to finish my paper..."
I trailed off, seeing the look in his eyes. So persistent. So... unwavering.
I stopped pretending.
"No. I'm not coming. We're just... partners."
"Partners?"
He lowered his head, lips curling into a smirk.
"Yeah, I know. That's all you ever gave me. If I wanted anything more, I'd have to lose you."
He looked straight at me. "But you know what we do feels a lot like dating."
I hesitated, then mumbled, "…Don't flatter yourself."
The boarding announcement interrupted us. Saved us, maybe. Because if that had kept going, we'd definitely be arguing again.
"It's been two months. Don't you wanna know how training went? What parties I went to? If I met any hot girls at the beach…"
I frowned. "Did you?"
His smile vanished. He ruffled his blond hair in frustration.
"How the hell could I? Every damn night I was thinking about you. You really didn't know?"
Even the way he rubbed his neck drew stares from passersby. No one hid their attraction.
"Well, then I definitely don't wanna know."
I yanked my suitcase handle out of his hand. "I'll go line up first. You come find me in five minutes."
The boarding line was long. I ended up stuck between a bunch of players. The noisy chatter eventually died down, the gate hall growing quiet again—until he walked in.
"William, you dodged a crowd back there. So many fans looking for autographs."
"And don't forget those flight attendants. What a waste."
William didn't respond. One guy noticed his expression and quickly changed tone: "I mean, with your popularity, girls are never a problem, right?"
Even with his aura filling the entire space, I didn't look back. We stayed strangers in line.
But a tourist was already sneaking out his phone, snapping pictures of William, trying to work up the nerve to ask for a selfie.
He followed me at a distance down the boarding ramp.
On the plane, I stood in the aisle, struggling to lift my suitcase into the overhead bin. Surrounded by strong athletes, I didn't ask for help.
Then suddenly, a hand pressed against the bottom of my suitcase—effortlessly lifting it and sliding it into the compartment.
I turned, about to say, "Thanks—"
But he was already walking away, his back cool and distant, colder than a stranger.
I sat down by the window. A moment later, a familiar face took the seat beside me—Lucas, a sophomore backup player from the team.
We were the same year. I'd seen him around, even visited the training grounds. But he didn't seem to recognize me. Probably just thought I looked cold. Unapproachable. Pretty, but distant.
It was a three-hour flight.
Lucas asked, "So, which university are you from?"
Before I could answer, the guy who'd helped with my suitcase came back, leaned casually against the seatback, and nodded toward the aisle.
"Yo, Lucas, switch seats."
Lucas glanced up, and upon seeing who it was, didn't even hesitate. He grabbed his gray backpack and gave me a nervous smile.
William's POV
Arms crossed, I gave Frank a glance—barely a second—before shifting my attention back to Lucas.
"Daniel snores like hell. Can't take it."
What?
Lucas didn't ask. He knew better. It's not like I owe anyone an explanation.
On the team, I speak, they listen. That's how it works. Break the chain, and you're out of the White Wolves.
The guy by the aisle—a tall man with glasses and a bland airline magazine—wasn't even listening.
Lucas looked grateful just to be spoken to. "No problem. I can sit anywhere."
Frank didn't react when I sat beside him. Just kept looking out the window.
The plane lifted off. The sun was shielded by the window shade, lights dimmed. The man in the aisle was already asleep behind an eye mask.
Everything fell quiet.
I leaned close. His shoulder brushed mine.
"I'm tired. Let me lean on you for a bit."
One minute later, I regretted it.
Damn it. I could barely hold it in.
With the cabin so still, my thoughts got louder. I glanced at him—his pale skin, the pink flush on his cheeks, those slightly parted lips.
I wanted to kiss him so badly.
How did I survive this summer without him?
Grinding in the gym? Training in the heat?
Or just holding on by sheer force of will?
My breath must've woken him, but he didn't move away—just shifted closer, cheek resting against my chest like it belonged there.
His ear brushed my shirt. So soft.
I swallowed hard.
This was all my fault.
I cupped his jaw, pulled him in, and kissed him deep.
A passing flight attendant slowed, curiosity piqued.
But all she saw was my hand shielding the window, blocking everything else. My broad back. His silhouette hidden beneath me.
There was no sound. No scandal.
Just the softest movement.
Until she spotted a trembling pale hand clinging to my waist, fingers weak and fluttery.
That kiss—hidden ten thousand meters above ground—lasted barely three minutes.
But Frank didn't sit still for the next three hours.