“Oh yeah. And thank you for giving Ford Dupree a voice that makes women faint. Amen.” Tally seconded the amen. Oh my gosh. Ashton had caught the whole thing, standing right behind Ford. Poor Uncle Ash.
“Anna,” Ashton said sternly. “If you really don’t want Blue to see you, you can’t go in here with Ford. Because if one person spots him—and I cannot imagine a scenario where that’s not a possibility—you’re done for.”
I cocked my head. “We’re not gonna make Uncle Ford sit alone. Besides, the tickets are assigned seats.”
“Two words. Disney World.” Ashton held up his hands abdicating himself from any of my wrath if his prediction was correct. “That’s all I’m going to say about it.”
Okay. So last year we’d all gone to Disney over the summer, and when people realized Ford was there, it had been a nonstop headache of trying to outrun the paparazzi and crazy female fans who wanted him to sign their boobs and butts. But I couldn’t blow him off. He’d bought the tickets and gotten us all hotel rooms.
Ford handed Ashton a jersey. “Got you a large, because you’re so tall.”
Uncle Ashton grinned, promptly forgetting about the whole thing. All you had to do to make his day was acknowledge his height. No one in the entire world was prouder of being six foot four than him.
We girls slipped back in the car to make the switch. I pulled mine over my head and then got back out. “Uh, why is mine so freaking tight?”
Ford shrugged. “I told the lady to give me three smalls.”
Brooklyn and Tally’s shirts fit perfectly. A jersey shouldn’t be tight. Ever. What a joke.
Tally reached for my tag and I lifted my hair so she could see. Then she giggled. “Yours is a small, all right. A youth small.”
I groaned. “Seriously?”
Ford didn’t seem the least bit upset. As a matter of fact, he looked a little pleased.
“You got curves, girl.” Brooklyn squeezed my shoulders. “Rock it.”
Once we were all properly attired, Ford jammed a dark cap on his head, slid a pair of sunglasses on, and we were off. He took my hand, pulling me through the crowd. I had Brooklyn’s, who had Tally’s, who adorably had Ashton’s. Yeah, he was smiling.
Once we were under roof, rock music played over the speakers as kids raced in and out, trying to keep up with their parents. It took twenty minutes to weave through the masses of people lining up for food, beer, or paraphernalia, but I had to give it to Knoxville: the atmosphere buzzed with excitement.
“Look.” Tally pointed up.
There was a massive banner of Blue hanging from the ceiling, arms folded across his chest, a look of smug confidence on his face. His banner was flanked in a V by individual banners of teammates. I had to force myself to breathe, he was so handsome. The enormous picture made it impossible not to stop and stare. But it was simply a metaphor for Blue. Larger than life, overshadowing everyone else.
Ford tugged my hand, leading me away. Once we were out of the tunnel and into the fading sunlight, he pulled me forward to our seats, lower and lower toward the field.
“Uh, how close are we sitting?” I asked. I knew for a fact that the closer you sat to the field, the more expensive the tickets were. There was no way I was paying this back. Not until I graduated from vet school and got a real job.
“You said you wanted to see Blue, and you can’t see him from the nosebleeds.”
“Need,” I corrected. “Ineedto see Blue. And I brought a pair of mini binoculars.”
Ford stopped, an elderly woman taking her time in front of him. Over his shoulder, he said, “I don’t think that counts. Besides, I’m not sitting where I can’t see.” The way he said it was arrogant. Like he, the Great Ford Dupree, wouldn’t be caught dead buying budget tickets.
“Fine.” The closer we got to the field, the higher my nerves cranked. It was a massive stadium. The likelihood of Blue seeing me was almost nonexistent. But I’d told myself it wasn’t even a possibility with rows and rows of people in front of me. But now, with each row we passed, the more probable it felt. Like I was playing some twisted game of strip poker. Handing away my clothes one piece at a time. When there were only ten rows between us and the field, my worst fears became a reality. Because we weren’t near on the end zone or in a corner. We were directly behind the players.
“Hey.” I let go of Brooklyn’s hand to poke Ford in the shoulder. “No. This is not what I wanted.”
But Ford ignored my protests, pressing on, going deeper and deeper into the fray. When we finally stopped, we were dead center, front row, directly behind the team. My chest rose and fell, anger rippling off me. I couldn’t yell at Uncle Ford right here. It would draw attention and then Ashton’s prophecy would become a reality.
“You are so dead,” I threatened as we sat down.
But Uncle Ford just grinned, looking so pleased with himself.
“Told you,” Ashton said from down on the end next to Tally. “You should’ve called me. Not Ford.”
But Uncle Ashton wouldn’t have bankrolled this operation.
