I manage a smile. ‘Only she could have.’
‘Someone told me you missed me.’
May smirks, her dark hair flying out behind her as she slows her horse down to a casual trot to match mine. She holds the reins with two fingers, and she brushes a stray lock of hair from her shoulder, revealing the strap of her tight black tank top. Her gold heart necklace from herquinceañeramakes little clicking sounds when the pendant hits the others around her neck: a horseshoe, a locket. The thick buckle of her belt glimmers in the totally unconcealed sunlight, cinching perfectly fitting Wranglers around her waist. Her butterfly boots squeak in the stirrups.
From slightly behind her, I can see every detail of the tattooof a flower bouquet just above her elbow, on the back of her arm. Even slowing down, she’s still faster than me.
‘Hold up,’ I call.
She laughs, the richest sound I’ve ever known, and turns to look back at me. Her hair skims my cheek, and when she reaches out with a daring arm, her fingers brush my jaw, her rings kissing my skin. ‘Keep up, Colt.’
With a whoop, she speeds up again, that finicky horse of hers galloping faster and faster, his hooves beating the ground.
‘Come on!’ I pat the side of my horse’s head, but he’s not having it. We don’t move any faster. ‘Hey, May!’
She’s well ahead of us now. I watch as her horse traces the corner of a pond, water and dirt flying up around them. I can’t see anything – I can’t see her – in all the dust. ‘MAY!’ I yell. ‘MAY …’
I shoot up in bed. My chest is pounding, and honestly, my head too.
Great. It’s not enough that everyone around me won’t shut up about her. She’s swinging by my dreams now, too.
Damn it, May.
Chapter Forty-Four
On to the Next
May
The Oklahoma half of the crowd joins us in a screamed rendition of the school’s ‘Orange and White’ chant. Maddie whoops, raising an arm to signallouder, and they obey, every word of the song echoing through McNeill Athletic Complex Field in Washington, DC.
On neutral ground, we stepped onto the field for semi-finals, poised to go up against number three ranked Galena Christian University from Vermont. I’m not the proudest of how I entered the game – definitely not at 100 per cent – but the atmosphere of this stadium, brand-new at least to us, started to work its magic in the second quarter. A strong finish, coupled with a second-half slump from GCU, was our propeller to the end of the match.
Maybe Colt isn’t here, but his absence didn’t make any difference in the crowd we brought in tonight: an Okie cheeringsection as large as five student sections, all waving their orange towels, this time emblazoned with the semi-final match logo, so hard and long their arms had to be on the verge of falling off. We built this, all season, and the payoff is finally here. Proof that our absolutely ridiculous plan somehow worked wonders for our lacrosse programme.
‘TO THE SHIP! WE’RE GOIN’, TO THE SHIP! WE’RE GOIN’, TO THE SHIP!’ the chant morphs, Jordan and I linking arms, bouncing up and down with the team as they jump all over us, screaming joyfully. The two of us grip one another tight as we share in the happy tears. One game left, just the one, until our college careers end forever, and we get to play in the College National Championship.
The final destination of the season will all come to a triumphant end in none other than Boston, Massachusetts, where we’ll play the championship match in a larger-than-usual field to accommodate for the excessive crowds this season. In past years the matches have been held at the University of Boston – Colt’s alma mater – soccer-field complex. Initially, that was the plan. But just weeks before the championship, the National College Lacrosse Association shifted the venue. This year, we will play the National Championship, or more fondly, the ‘Natty’, in the New England Bobcats’ CashMatch Stadium, home to the region’s professional football team. As in, Super Bowls, celebrity status, most-watched-sport-in-America professional football team. I’m still in shock when they put us up in the beautiful Hyatt in the centre of the city, just a ten-minute drive from the stadium. It’s like nothing we’ve ever experienced before.
‘Andhere,’ proclaims Jordan as we all raise our mandatedmocktails to the centre of the table at dinner in the hotel’s bougie restaurant later that night, ‘is to theveryfirst Lady Riders team – no, the firstRidersteam, toeverplay in a championship!’
I don’t know what our opponents for the big match – three-years-in-a-row champs, Augusta Tech University’s Clippers, from Maine – are doing right about now, but we don’t look anything like we’re gearing up for the biggest game any of us will ever play tomorrow.
We clink glasses with whoops all around, and a ‘Yes, ma’am!’ from Brianna that prompts us to turn her way.
‘So …’ Maddie begins diplomatically. ‘Bri, our hair game’s gonna be untouchable, tomorrow, I hope?’
Bri’s face breaks into a huge grin. ‘Just wait till you see the Pinterest board.’
About halfway through the dinner, the thus-far-banned topic of conversation crops up. ‘You know,’ mentions Paige around a bite of the delicious wings we ordered, ‘we’re only about two and a half hours from New Haven.’
All eyes around the table swivel towards me expectantly.
I did a pretty great job of deflecting about the entire thing, initially. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s keeping my personal life locked down, even in a tiny-ass town like Prosperity, where everyone’s noses are constantly in your business. But once the stuff started to flood social media, and Colt had to post that PR-mandated mess explaining our ‘peaceful parting of ways’, I kind of couldn’t keep the act up any longer. I mumbled some hasty shit about overwhelming differences and hoped that would satisfy the girls.
‘Guys, he’s at training camp,’ I tell them exasperatedly. ‘I amnotgoing to New Haven. And he isnotcoming to Boston.’
‘Why not?’ Brianna asks, fiddling with her dark brown curls. ‘You clearly had it bad for one another.’
