The energy from the crowd combined with the players on the pitch is nothing short of frantic. Up until this point, the match has been evenly tied from team to team. The second we score a try, Birmingham scores the next. Back and forth, the ball is transferred, men are tackled, rucks are formed, and all I feel is a pulse-pounding surety that this match is ours for the taking. Even with Birmingham being in one of the top spots for the Premiership, and the whole rugby fandom believing they would be the ones to win, I just know it’s ours.
The score is tied, and the opposition has possession of the ball, heading downfield toward the try line that could win them the game, only minutes ticking down on the clock. Then, the stands erupt into a steady bass drum, a familiar chant ringing out over the crowd;Legends, tales of old, men with feet of gold. On and on, the song rings out as sweat pours down my back despite the chill in the autumn air.
“Ekon! Grab their centre!” I shout, and he nods, running in the direction of the player holding the ball. He doesn’t see Ekon approach from behind and falls like a tree when he takes him out at the knees. “Cav!”
“Got it,” Cavan’s voice is a whisper on the wind, but I hear him all the same. He joins the fray, wrestling the ball away from Birmingham’s centre. Myles knows without me saying anything to get in there and slip the ball from his centre pair, but before he can, a forward on the other teamsteals it out of his hand and runs far faster than he looks able to.
We’re close—too close—to another win to let it go in the final minute. I can taste the victory on my tongue when I hear Jade’s voice in my head:you can have me any way you want. And it’s that dark incentive that fuels the superhuman pump of my legs as I run faster than I ever have. Cavan and Myles are ganging up on the other player, and he’s about to pass the ball to his teammate, but I get there first and latch on to the ball, pausing only for a second to turn and dodge the player that it was meant for. Then, I’m running like I have Hermes winged sandals attached to my feet.
The volume around the crowd is explosive, and my heart thumps out of my chest, but I can’t stop with the players closing in on me. I’m ten metres from the line, and I remember another time I was in this position, so close but still falling short of the mark. Not today. I’m different now, better than I was before.
Seven metres.
I pass where Jade, my sister, and all the other VIPs sit on the sidelines, and I can hear Jade yelling the same cry as the crowd. Her voice rings out over the din of thousands and reaches my ears even from forty feet away. Her voice, her cheers, are for me. Always for me.
I incline my head a little in her direction, smiling wide enough that the dimple I know she loves, the one she’s taken to kissing in recent weeks, pops in my cheek. This is for me, that smile says, but it’s also for you. Always for you. I swear, I can hear her screaming louder in response to that smile.
Two metres.
I feel the fly-half from Birmingham grab my jersey, and I stumble a step, falling out of his hold and pumping my legs even harder, begging them to run, move, to get us across that line.
One metre.
I take a leap and dive over the line, landing on my stomach, sliding over the chalked demarcation, and touch the ball to the grass, scoring the winning try of the game we were predicted to lose. All around me, the stands full of fans lose their minds, and a single chant begins to build in surround sound.
STONE. STONE. STONE.
My teammates rush to me, clapping me on the shoulders before lifting me in the air to revel in the sounds of the game I love more thanalmostanything.
I find her in the stands wearing all burgundy, her arms slung around my sister’s shoulders, Aanya to her right, hugging a stranger. She’s crying out my name with the crowd, the brightest smile I’ve ever seen lighting up her magnificent face, and I levitate out of my body, thanking the universe for all the hardships I faced over the last year because it brought me her.
After an hour, many press interviews, and a shower later, I’m finally packing up to leave for the evening, aching to get home to my girl and all the promises that were made prior to the match.
“Stone!” I jump at the sound of Ballard calling my name in a gruff, authoritative tone.
“Yes, sir?”
“Good job tonight. That was a hell of a winning play and a great one for the scouts to see in person.” He says it so casually, I almost don’t catch it.
“I’m sorry—scouts?”
He huffs. “I would’ve thought McKallen told you during your meeting. National scouts were at tonight's match.” Buzzing fills my ears, drowning out everything around me as my thoughts swirl in a whirlpool. They were here, they saw me play. Maybe my dreams aren’t dead after all. Why wouldn’t Jade tell me? “I spoke with them briefly, and it was hard to get a read on them, but there’s no way they weren’t impressed by tonight. Just keep doing whatyou’re doing, stay out of trouble, and I think you’ve got a shot.”
Stay out of trouble. Does doing unspeakable things to the person who signs my paychecks constitute trouble?
Probably.
“Understood, sir.”
“Good man.” He claps me on the shoulder. “Get some rest. I’ll see you at training.”
After he leaves, I head over to my locker to grab my bag, noticing my phone lighting up with a notification.
Hellfire
Meet me in my office.
Despite Ballard’s warning from two minutes ago, I grab my bag and head towards definite trouble.
