“Oh.” I barely pay attention during the rest of the pregame events. I just want this game to get started. Finally, it’s time. I don’t sit; I can’t. I squeeze Evie’s hand. “This is it.”
“I know.” Her voice is just as nervous as mine.
“This is going to be you in just a few days,” I tell her. Zane and Quint’s playoff game is this weekend.
“Oh, please don’t remind me.”
“We’ll focus on that when it’s time. Right now, soccer.”
She nods. “Soccer.”
My eyes are trained on my guy as both teams take to the field. I know he’s ready; he’s got that focus back—that legendary calm he’s known for. “It’s time, Hotshot,” I mutter under my breath. “Let’s do this.”
I don’t sit for one minute. At just three minutes in, Slate dribbles around a defender and then another one. He jukes his way around the last guy between him and the goal, besides the goalie, and he lines it up and sends it sailing into the far corner of the net.
Goal!
The fans all around us erupt, and I jump up and down and watch the guys run together. And then it’s right back to it. It’s back and forth and back and forth. They get several looks at the goal, but Ben and our defenders keep them out. The clock starts to wind down. And then with less than five minutes left on the play clock, Diego gets a look at the goal. Their goalie stops it and sends it back out. It’s not but a minute later that we’re back at their end. Bruce passes it to Diego who sends it to Slater. And then in a feat of agility that only Slater Thorne could pull off, he does a reverse high kick and sends the ball over the head of the goalie.
Goal!
The fans around us erupt, and I jump up and down with Evie. And just like that, it’s halftime. “You want food?” Quint asks as he stretches.
I glance up at him, incredulous. “How can you eat? I’m way too nervous.”
He grins. “I’ll eat your portion. Evie, Zane? Anything?”
“No thanks,” Evie says, waving him off.
“I’m good,” Zane calls out.
I bounce my leg while I wait for halftime to finish up. It drags and drags. “Finally!” I mutter when it’s time to start again. The first few minutes of the second half aren’t quite as exciting. There’s a lot of back and forth. But then, they work the ball down the field and line up to take a shot. Ben gets a piece of it, but it’s deflected. They go to kick it, and I scream because Ben is too far to the side. “No!” Through a feat of pure athleticism, Ben launches sideways, arms outstretched.
The fans around us scream as Ben blocks the ball. I can’t even cheer. “How did he do that?” Quint demands in a shout, pulling his hat off his head.
“That was insane!” Evie screams next to me.
Ben gets the ball out to our guys, and they work it downfield. Several minutes pass, and nothing much happens. The clock ticks below ten minutes. Then five minutes. I’m squeezing Evie’s hand now because this is all but theirs. And then, with just two minutes left in the game, number seven gets a breakaway. I scream with the hundreds of other fans as Slater makes his way to the goal. I watch as he does what he does best...dazzle the crowd. I stop screaming. I can’t even make a sound because what I'm watching right now is pure beauty. And then it’s just him and the goalie. He fakes and goes to the right; the goalie goes to the left.
And then he kicks.
Goal!
I do nothing to stop the tears as they come. And then, when the whistle sounds, I watch as my man leads the run of victory. I listen as fans scream all around me, and I soak it in, hoping that Slater is soaking all of this in as well.
“Come on,” Quint yells over the noise. He grabs my arm and pulls me forward.
“What are we doing?” I yell over the crowd.
“We gotta get you down there,” he yells back. I follow him down our row and then grasp his shirt as he pushes his way through the crowd. We make it to the sideline, and my eyes scan the field for my guy. As if he knows I’m here, he turns. From halfway across the field, I feel his eyes lock on me. Then he’s running towards me. I run towards him, not even caring that I don’t run.Ever. I figure this is a really good time for an exception. And then I reach him and launch myself into his arms, knowing he’ll catch me. There’s not even a doubt in my mind. His arms close around me, and my legs lock around his waist. I meet his eyes. “You did it!”
His eyes are full of pure joy. “Wedid it!”
“I can’t believe you did a hat trick!”
He grins. “Just wanted to make sure I was worthy of my nickname.”
“Always, Hotshot.” And then, he kisses me; and I forget about everything else in the world except for him. When I pull back, he glances over my shoulder and freezes. I turn to see what he’s looking at. A smile fills my face when I see his parents standing on the sidelines.
