I jump when I feel cold liquid splash against my leg. “Sorry about that.” The guy next to me rubs the side of my thigh, trying to get rid of the beer he just spilled on me when he sat down. I pull my leg over, but there’s not much room with how packed this place is, so I end up pushing his hand away.
“It’s okay.” I rub my leg a few more times so he doesn’t try again. It’s weird he even did it.
“Want my drink?” He offers me the half full cup he spilled on me as if that will make it better.
“No thank you.” I wish I could have gotten a seat at the end of the row, but I took what was available.
“I’ll be more careful,” he tells me with glassy eyes.
I nod so he doesn’t feel the need to keep talking.
“Are you here alone?” He looks around me at the couple who’s squished together.
“No, my friends are in another section. I bought my ticket late,” I explain.
“That sucks. You’re welcome to hang out with us,” he offers.
“Um… I’m just going to watch the game,” I state. How do you hang out at a football game? I don’t get it.
“Let me know if you need anything to drink.” He lifts his glass before taking a long drink.
I look down when my phone rings and see Sir in bright white letters on the black screen. “Hello,” I say softly because I feel like the guy next to me is listening.
“Thanks for picking up,” Memphis tells me in a much softer tone than his other call.
“I don’t want you to be mad at me, not for this,” I admit.
“I’m not mad at you. I was worried. I shouldn’t have yelled. I still don’t think it’s necessary, but if that’s what you want, I’ll deal with it.”
“Thank you.”
“I just need one thing, Waylynn. I need you to tell me where you are so Bates can come get you and walk you home.” There’s a slight edge in his tone, letting me know he’s not going to let this go.
“I’ll text you before the game ends,” I compromise.
His slight pause makes me think he’s going to argue, but he finally says, “Fine, do not forget to text me, Waylynn.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good girl. Call me if you need anything.” I grip the phone tighter against my ear, but he hangs up before I can respond, not that I had actual words to say.
“That your dad?” the guy next to me asks as soon as I pull my phone down from my ear.
I choke on the spit in my mouth and end up coughing hard. “No,” I grate out after clearing my throat.
Thankfully, anything he might have said is interrupted when the game announcer starts speaking.
The first quarter goes by fast. There are no time-outs or points scored, but the other team is able to score in the second. I don’t boo like the group next to me, but a lot of people from our section do. Right after they kick the ball through the goal, there’s a scramble to shift players, and that’s when I see number twenty-five run out onto the field.
“Oh god.” I cover my mouth with my hands but keep my eyes glued to Oswald as he gets in the line.
The guy next to me misunderstands. “It’s okay, there’s plenty of time for them to come back.”
When the game resumes, Oswald runs away from the line and grabs the ball right out of the air. I was so busy watching him, I didn’t realize they were throwing it to him. The second his feet hit the ground, he runs up the field. I’m already on my feet, but when he gets smashed to the ground by someone in a white shirt, I let out a little yelp. I don’t think my heart starts beating again until Oswald hops up off the ground and runs back to his team.
People are screaming and yelling, blowing airhorns, but I’m about to pee my pants. I can’t believe that guy hit him so hard. I lower myself back into the seat, but I’m only perched on the edge this time.
Thank god they don’t throw the ball to him the next play, he just scrambles around with the other players, and someone else gets knocked down.
