The Sideline Bet

The referee's whistle still lingered in the air as the game ended. Sterling Vaughn, his body steaming with sweat and the scent of grass, locked his gaze instantly on a figure in the stands. He was twenty-five, a forward on the pitch, unapologetically aggressive, as if born to stand in the spotlight. Off the field, Desmond Lockwood was just an eighteen-year-old student who liked to sketch and play a bit of volleyball. Deep in his bones, Sterling Vaughn looked down on volleyball—that sport of jumping back and forth across a net. The prejudice sat in him like a thorn. The moment the match ended, he crossed the entire field, walked straight up to Desmond Lockwood, and demanded to know who the person sitting next to him earlier had been.