I’m going to make every moment count.
After what seems like the longest four quarters of my life, we defeat the Grizzlies in a tough as nails fight to the finish, 27-24. I ache everywhere, but it’s the good kind, the kind where you push your body to the limits and all the effort paid off. I got hit hard by Trey Marcum and I’m sure I’ll be feeling it in the morning but right now, I’m riding a high that can’t be brought down.
I’m a sweaty mess when I’m stopped by a sideline reporter. I gladly answer their questions but I’m eager to get the grime off. I start to make my way to thelocker room when I hear.
“Archer!”
Elle’s voice slices through the noise. I turn, and there she is standing just beyond the security rope, hair tousled from the autumn wind, Wolves jersey proudly displayed, her cheeks flushed from the cold. She looks breathtaking. Behind her I see my whole family. The entire Bell clan sporting my number.
Elle and Mom both insist on a photo, of course. We bunch together. Helmet, hats, and all my sweaty, stinky glory. Elle tucked under my arm, the kids making goofy faces, my grandparents smiling from the back. The flash goes off, and for a second, the world is perfectly still.
The scoreboard still reads 27–24.
Chapter 41
Archer-then
It’s my senior year of undergrad and I’m spending one of my only free Saturdays at a cross-country race. Coach Miller insists that we support the other teams so that’s how I find myself freezing my balls off at what I guess is an important race.
There are banners and tents all around our campus. The racecourse had been staked out the night before. I know this because I drug several of my teammates back to our house around 2 am. I walk around the course with a very hungover Logan Waltz, who suggested we pick this meet since it was on campus and we wouldn’t have to travel to support another team. Bet he’s regretting that decision now. “It’s fucking freezing, how the hell do these psychopaths run in essentially nothing.” He pauses as a group of female runners pass. “Not that I’m complaining.” He says as he checks several of the athletes out while they jog past on their warmup.
Soon the runners are at the starting line and the gun goes off signaling the start of the race. Logan and I aren’t all that interested in the race, so we wander around with hot chocolates fromthe concession stand.
We near the finish line and find the pack leaders following the gator through the course. One girl from a school I don’t recognize is ahead of everyone else. I see several of our runners, and two girls from my former university in the following pack.
“Let’s go Elle!” My head whips in the direction of the yell and then back to the racers.
“Pick them off one by one, baby girl!”
“It’s your last race! Make it count!”
That’s when I spot her.
Elle.
She’s in blue and gold, her spandex leaving nothing to the imagination. Her hair is up in the ponytail she always sported in class, she’s focused in, eyes straight ahead, form impeccable. She’s doing exactly what her cheerleaders are telling her to do. She breaks her pace only to turn on the jets. I toss my hot chocolate in a nearby trash can as I follow her to the finish line. She leaves her teammate behind as she pushes herself toward the finish line.
Holy Shit.
She’s fast; I’m in awe. I falter as I contemplate how someone with such short legs covers that much ground. I watch as she closes the gap.
“Go Ellie! GO!” I yell, I’m not sure if she hears me.
She isn’t able to catch the leader but snags second place. The announcer’s voice booms over the course.
“And your Division I NCAA National Champion, from Clearwater University, with an official time of 19 minutes, 47.2 seconds; Jenna Brooks!”
The announcer pauses, then continues.
“And in second place, representing Ridgecrest State University, with a time of 19 minutes, 52.3 seconds; Elle Taylor!”
I find myself making my way over to her. However, I force myself to stop. She’s surrounded by her teammates and family. She may not even remember me, and I can’t make this moment about me.
I watch from afar like a creep. Her chest is heaving and her coach is handing her water, encouraging her to drink. Her skin is flushed from exertion and cold.
I can’t tell what they’re saying but I think Elle is crying. She’s wiping her eyes but smiling. It must be bittersweet, it’s her last race and she managed a second-place finish. That’s pretty impressive. Actually that’s incredibly impressive.
“Way to go Ellie. Way to go.” I smile. Almost as she hears me, I see her look in my direction but nothing in her face suggests that she sees me.
