The amount of time and energy that was spent planning this outfit is absolutely fucking insane. It was a conference call between me, Erica, Stella, and Sadie. It took hours.
A lot of the WAGs which apparently means Wives and Girlfriends treat the Super Bowl like a fashion show. I am not really one to be flashy, I mean I basically live in leggings and a sweatshirt when at home. Half the time I don’t brush my hair before putting it in the messy bun.
I didn’t want to be uncomfortable at the game. However, I also wanted to look the part of Archer Bell’s girlfriend. Ya know, for reasons that do not concern any ex-fiancées. I just want to look nice. That is all.
Okay, yeah, that was a bold-faced lie, I want to look good in case they show me during the game. I want to look the part of Archer Bell’s girlfriend. Fuck you, Cassie.
Erica wanted me in something fashion forward, eye catching is the description she used. Stella vetoed it immediately. While Sadie played devil’s advocate and as enjoying the back and forth. Honestly the whole conversation reminded me of the scene in Sleeping Beautywhere the fairies are fighting ‘make it blue. No, make it pink.’
Ultimately Stella decided we were going to work backwards and start with the three accessories I knew I absolutely was going to wear, my two charm bracelets and the diamond number necklace Archer gifted to me. I also stated I wanted comfy shoes. No flashy heels. The Instagram post of a WAG from last year’s Super Bowl haunting me, her feet bloody from the designer heels she wore.
So that is how I find myself standing in front of the hotel mirror in nothing but my bra and panties.
I start with my hair and makeup, keeping both strictly to the “practical and polished” rule that Stella enforced. I follow Stella and Erica’s instructions, both being better at makeup than me. I follow every step starting with foundation, followed by a simple yet classy eye look, to blush and bronzer. I finish the look by carefully applying waterproof mascara because let’s be honest, today is going to be an emotional marathon.
For my hair, I decided to keep it simple with a ponytail, but a sleek low one, with just little pieces framing my face. No fuss, something that will last all night which is sort of the goal of this whole look. Long lasting lip stain, setting spray, and waterproof mascara, easily maintainable hairstyle, I should be golden.
Next, the clothes. I slip on my white long-sleeved shirt first, the soft cotton soothing in a way. Then comes the foundation of my outfit: my charcoal gray straight-leg jeans. They are tailored perfectly, not too tight, not too baggy, lending that polished lookwhile guaranteeing I could sit, stand, and move comfortably for the next eight hours. They are the successors of the first pair I bought during my first-year teaching. Everyone needs a dependable pair of pants that make you feel good about yourself. I dubbed them my Trusty Trousers. Thus, Trusty Trousers 2.0 have made their appearance at the Super Bowl.
I check myself out in the full-length mirror before heading over to the dresser to put my diamond studs in along with my gold hoops. I then clasp the number necklace, the sun catching the diamonds, making them sparkle as they sit just above the crew neck of my top. I fasten ole faithful, the charm bracelet of my childhood, followed by the charm bracelet archer gifted me. The gold is a beautiful partner to the silver of my childhood charms.
Finally, the jacket. I worked closely with the hometown company that makes our high school’s letterman jackets. Together we created a jacket worthy of a Super Bowl debut. The body of the jacket is the Wolves’ signature orange. Its sleeves are charcoal gray, with the patches bearing the Wolves logo and Archer’s number being pure white.
It’s the part that Erica insisted I wear. “It’s bold and striking while being Elle enough that you don’t look like you’re trying too hard.” She claimed.
I finish the outfit with a new pair of white platform sneakers. I look at the clock. Shit! I need to get going.
I quickly exit my hotel room, grabbing my cross body on the way out of the door. The moment I step out of the elevator the noise starts. Downstairs, the lobby is azoo of fans, media, and people just trying to catch a glimpse of something. I try to walk quickly to avoid being stopped, but my orange letterman is a beacon in the crowd of people. Several fans recognize me from Archer’s Instagram and want to stop me for pictures. It’s a surreal experience.
I meet Sadie, my family and Archer’s parents at the designated pickup point. We all get on a secure bus specifically for the players’ families. It’s nice to see everyone, but the atmosphere on the bus is tense. Everyone is trying to keep the mood light, but we all know where we’re going. Trish is trying her best to remain calm, but her baby is playing the biggest game of his life, and she’s having a hard time keeping it from showing. Mari and her kids are trying their best to distract her.
When we finally arrive at the stadium, the security is intense. We’re dropped off right near the family entrance. It’s overwhelming, the sheer number of people, the helicopters overhead, the music blaring. It’s sensory overload. We have special passes, but it still takes time to get through.
We head straight for the private suite reserved for the team’s families. It’s a relief to get out of the mayhem. I was starting to get overstimulated from the sheer amount of everything going on out there.
The suite is large, stocked with food and drinks, but nobody eats much. The nervous energy is a palpable force. The hours of waiting tick by slowly. I spend my time talking with Sadie and Mari. The two of them discussing the fashion choices of the opposing teams WAGs, one of them wore a fullbody white latex suit, while I’m sure is very fashion forward, we all assume it’s a bitch to pee in. Also, we just really question why.
I make sure to periodically check on Trish who to settle her nerves is fussing over her grandchildren and Erica with my mom.
My dad, David and Lucas try to track the pre-game analysts on the TV. But mostly, they end up arguing with the analysts who say that Archer is going to choke, based upon his pre-season and beginning of the season performances.
I almost wish I was at The Den in my seat, comfortable. I miss Jay and his family, we friended each other on social media, I have been sending him pictures throughout the week in California. If the boys win, I’m going to try to get a souvenir for his son, who is a huge fan of DJ’s.
The moment the ball leaves the tee, the waiting is finally over. I’m standing right by the glass with Sadie, the clamor of the stadium hitting us through the thick pane. My heart hammering against my ribs.
Chapter 61
Archer
Three minutes left, and our defense is on the field, fighting for every inch. I stand on the sideline, helmet off, holding the play sheet, but I can’t read a word. All I can do is watch the clock.
The clock ticks down to 1:05.
The Squall’s quarterback throws, the ball is aimed deep, down the sideline. Cam leaps, reaching. He gets his hand on the ball. Incomplete. The clock stops at 0:57.
Fourth and ten. This is the down. If they get it, they probably score. If they don’t, we win. Coach is yelling. I can’t breathe. The noise of the crowd threatening to swallow me whole.
Then the Squalls’ snap. I watch the insanity that ensues. Their quarterback spins, desperate. He throws across his body, a dangerous Hail Mary pass into the middle of the field.
