As the kickoff return team takes the field, my eyes automatically find number eighty-eight, my girl. The Dragons are in their black uniforms with purple and silver trim, and I can’t help but check out Jordie’s ass in those tight pants. Damn, she looks good.
I chew on my thumbnail as the Tornadoes’ kicker puts her foot to the ball. It sails through the air toward where Jordie is standing, and I bite down so hard on the tip of my thumb, I taste blood.
She catches it easily, but there’s a defender right on her. My entire body flinches, bracing for the blow, but Jordie spins away, leaving the defender in the dust.
“Come on, Jordie. Let’s fucking go,” my father yells as her long legs eat up the turf. Luckily, Reece is up at the top of the suite with Rebecca, hopefully unable to hear all the cussing down here on the lower level.
Jordie is finally forced out of bounds near the fifty, and I check the clock. Less than two minutes remaining in the game.
“That was a good return,” Remi comments. “Now we just need a touchdown.”
I glance directly below me to where Jordie’s family is located near the front of the stands. Her sister is jumping up and down, flanked by Reno and Xander, and damn, I wish I were down there closer to the action instead of behind this wall of glass.
The Dragon offense runs out onto the field, lining up in the I-formation. Our QB, Zena, tosses the ball to Sabrina, who picks up a respectable seven yards.
The next play is a fifteen-yard pass to Jordie, who catches it and is immediately hit by an OKC cornerback. I wince, and once again, my ass tightens to the point where I think I might need to see a proctologisttomorrow. But she jumps up and tosses the ball to the ref, loping off like she hasn’t just been slammed to the ground by a hundred-and-seventy-pound defender.
The Tornadoes call a timeout, and I sink into my chair. Helix does the same and hands me a glass. “Bourbon,” he informs me, and I shake my head.
“I can’t. I’m driving, and I have Reece with me.”
Dad plants himself on the other side of me. “Go ahead, son. You look like you need it. Reecie can come home with us tonight. Rebecca got some stuff to make Christmas cookies.”
I don’t argue, taking the drink and slamming it back. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I set the glass on the small table beside me. I’m going to have a fucking nervous breakdown.
Jordie is huddled near the sideline with her teammates. Her face appears on the big screen overhead, and she smiles at something the coach says.
She’s the one actually playing the game, and she looks cool as a cucumber, her confidence showing in the fierce glint of her aqua eyes. Meanwhile, I’m up here about to have an aneurysm.
Dad’s hand lands on my shoulder, and I turn to look at him. “It’s okay, Phoenix,” he says in a low voice that’s calm and sure. “She’s got this.”
I blow out a shaky breath and nod. I haven’t told my dad about my relationship with Jordie, but it seems he knows anyway. Maybe because I’ve acted like a lunatic every time she’s touched the ball today.
Our offense takes the field, and the mostly purple-clad crowd goes apeshit. I stand again, getting as close to the glass as I can without pressing my face against it.
Zena mixes things up, handing off to Sabrina a couple times and then throwing a short pass to Heather, putting the Dragons inside the twenty-yard line. On the next play, she’s sacked for a loss, and a collective groan goes up around the stadium.
She’s slow getting up, but Jordie offers her a hand and pulls her to stand before putting her helmet close to her teammate’s. The cameras zoom in on them, and we all see Zena nod her head, indicating she’s okay. Jordie pats her helmet and runs off to get ready for the next play.
On the next play, Zena throws to Jordie, but it’s off, sailing over her head and landing out of bounds.
“Shit, I think Zena’s shaken up,” I mutter, checking the clock. Less than a minute to go.
The Dragons call a timeout, and I can’t even bring myself to sit down this time. The atmosphere in the stadium is electric, the noise level rising as fans dance and yell along with whatever song is playing over the sound system.
My eyes are fixed firmly on number eighty-eight, and when the huddle breaks, her gaze shifts upward. I could swear she’s looking directly at me, so I make a cheesy heart with my hands, and she smiles. All the hairs on my body stand at attention as she turns and runs off to line up.
“Looks like it’s going to be a pass play,” Remi observes, and I press my palm against the glass, as if I could magically send my love down to Jordie on the field.
The quarterback is in the shotgun formation, and the next few seconds seem to go in slow motion. The ball is snapped, and when Zena almost fumbles it, I curse under my breath. But she handles it and drops back a few steps.
I watch as my gorgeous, talented woman takes off on a post route, breaking to the center of the field and putting separation between her and the defender.
“Jordie’s open,” Helix shouts like they can hear him, and I hold my breath as Zena launches the ball toward the end zone. It’s another high pass, but Jordie leaps into the air like Micheal fucking Jordan and catches the pass.
Touchdown Dragons.
The stadium is in an uproar, and I sink back into my seat amidst the chaos around me, dragging my hands through my hair. I’m both exhausted and energized.
