I’m hyped as fuck and bouncing on the balls of my feet, ready to leave the Saint’s defense in a cloud of dust. One last scan of the bleachers shows that Allie still isn’t here, but I shake off the irritation as soon as I spot my pops in the stands. I puff out my chest and when Dom calls the play and snaps back, I’m off. I sprint wide to the left, before spinning to catch the ball I know is aimed right for me. My hands connect with the laces and I clutch the damn thing like my life depends on it before taking off straight for the goal posts.
I’m tackled twenty yards from the end zone but I'm still grinning because we picked up way more ground on the first play than we should have. Looks like the Saints are going to have an off day.
It’s the end of the second quarter and we’re ahead by seven. The stadium is packed, making it harder to find my girl, but as I take my seat on the bench, Dominique points out Henderson’s little sister. “Baby Henderson’s here. That means Allie is, too.”
I nod, scanning the surrounding crowd for her dark brown hair. The spot beside Kasey is vacant. Maybe Allie went to the restroom? The idea alone is enough to have me clenching my hands into tight fists. “Yeah, but do you see her?”
He looks and shakes his head. “No.”
“Me, either. Which means she’s off somewhere at this packed fucking game alone right now.”
“Maybe she just went to grab a soda?”
“I don’t care if she needed to take a shit. She knows the deal. She’s not supposed to go anywhere at this school alone.”
He nods, a scowl on his face letting me know he doesn’t like this any more than I do, but there isn’t anything either of us can do about it from the field. Coach calls us back to the locker room for our half-time pep talk and I have no choice but to follow the rest of the guys.
When we return for the beginning of the third, the seat beside Kasey is still fucking empty. Worry worms through me, followed quickly by anger when I catch my pops getting up from the stands, his phone to his ear because of course he can’t leave work at the office.
I'm tracking his movements as he leaves through the gate entrance and miss Dom’s words as he calls out the play before the snap. Fuck. I take off, hoping I’m heading in the right direction. When Dom throws, I realize I’m way the fuck off and have to kick it into gear to reach his intended mark. My fingers glance across the ball but I fumble the catch. Thankfully, one of my teammates is close by to recover it. I kick at the field, unearthing a chunk of grass as I curse and head back to the start-up line.
The rest of the game goes similarly, but I’m not the only one affected now. It’s like everything went to shit the second half. Dom throws an interception and we miss two field goals that we should have had in the bag. Emilio lets two running backs slip past him, allowing the Saints to score. We’re still in the lead but we’re down to the wire and if we don’t score, there’s a good chance the Saints will on their next play and we’ll lose. There isn’t enough time on the clock. I have to score.
I know the play. I’ve done this maneuver a million times before, so I focus on my breathing, narrowing my field of vision as I zero in on where I need to be and how to get there as quickly as possible. My pops never returned after stepping out and I still haven’t caught sight of my girl. Focusing all of my anger and frustration into our last play I sprint up the field, adrenaline rushing through my veins. My hands find the ball and then I’m running up the field, racing along the boundary line.
Two players are hot on my heels and I have no one from my own team anywhere close to help. One of the assholes—number eleven—is gaining on me, but with the ball tucked under my right arm I shove out with my left, shoving him away and then TOUCHDOWN!
My team rushes me. Helmets knock into mine and fists knock me in the shoulder. There’s less than two minutes on the clock and the other team has no time-outs left. I cheer with my team. We won. We’ll run out the clock, but my job here is done.
I’m riding a high and smiling like an idiot until I look back up at the stands.
Kasey’s nowhere to be found now, and neither is Allie.
My smile tightens. And I turn back to the guys, accepting their good-natured high-fives and shouts of congratulations, all the while thinking in my head,where the fuck is she?
TWENTY-FIVE
Allie
I’m running late getting to the game. Kasey was going to meet me at my place and we’d drive over together but something came up with her aunt, so she sent a text letting me know she’d have to meet me at the school.
I call an Uber and get the oldest grandma in the history of Uber drivers who happens to drive five miles an hour below the speed limit the entire way, but I get there just as the first quarter ends and make my way over to the bleachers where Kasey said she’d be.
“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” I claim the empty seat beside her.
“Damn, Allie. Looking good,” she says, taking in my painted stomach. I blush. It hadn’t been planned, but I knew that some of the girls painted their boyfriend's or favorite player's number on their midriff, so I painted Roman’s—a number four—and a small red devil on my abdomen.
“Thanks. Think he’ll like it?”
Her brows wiggle. “I think he’llloveit.” She smirks, then winks. “Also, don’t hate me, but I might have to leave early.”
Oh.I look around, instantly realizing I don't have anyone else to hang out with here if she leaves, but I promised the guys I’d be here so I can’t very well bail.
“My aunt is running short-staffed at the diner,” she tells me. “I don’t usually work there but she’s in a bind. That’s why I was late. I filled in after school for one of the girls who was a no-show. I can stay for most of the game, but I’ll need to leave before the end of the fourth so I can get there before the football crowd shows up.”
“Oh. That’s totally fine.” It’s great, actually. I won’t be alone the whole game. Just for part of the fourth. No big deal.
I look out on the field and instantly find Roman—number four. My heart quickens and I watch him run up the field, scoring for the Sun Valley Devils. The entire stadium cheers, including me. I jump up and down like a moron screaming his name in the hopes he’ll see me.
