28. Play Ball!
28
Play Ball!
“Sometimes I have to remind myself around my non-nurse friends not to talk about bodily functions.”
—Unknown
Natalie
“LET’S GET READY TO RUMBLE!”
The entire stadium vibrated beneath my feet as I followed the man in a black suit in front of me. The game was about to start.
My first NFL game and I was going to be watching it from the good seats.
I was of course late and had missed all the pregame festivities. Alex was watching Ellie and he’d had more questions than I’d prepared for. I was pretty sure that he was going to do fine with her, especially since I told him just to call McKenna if he needed anything. A baby was a perfect excuse to ask her to come over and help him out.
I grinned to myself as I walked past concrete arches leading out to a packed stadium. Sunlight streamed onto the seats and the grass, the afternoon game off to a start with perfect weather. I tugged at the hem of the jersey with Dylan’s name emblazoned on the back. He’d given it to me to wear, along with the tickets to the VIP area. I felt like a pretender. A fraud. I wasn’t a fan.
But I did want to see Dylan at work. He loved this stupid game so much, so it was the least I could do to come and watch him do it.
“Ma’am, this way.” The man in the black suit motioned me into a very swanky area. The sound of the crowd dimmed slightly as I stepped inside. Huge TVs lined the walls of a space bigger than my apartment. People in jerseys similar to mine lounged comfortably on sofas and nibbled on the buffet along the far wall.
I’d never been to an NFL game, but I had a feeling this was not the typical experience.
The man in the suit nodded to me, pointed out the amenities, and informed me that if I wanted anything, anything at all, to just pick up the white phone and ask.
I grinned as I looked around at the world I had just walked into. A girl could get used to this kind of service.
I walked over to one of the huge windows overlooking the field and got a little bit of vertigo. The stadium was so much bigger than it looked on TV. Thousands and thousands of people filled the stands, packing it full of color and sound. Below, I could see the players lining up, getting ready to slam their bodies together and give out concussions.
I mean, score touchdowns and have a good time.
“Hi.”
I turned to see a young woman with the most gorgeous curly hair I’d ever seen smiling at me.
“Hi.” I tugged on the bottom of my jersey, wondering if it was obvious that I didn’t belong here. I wasn’t a true fan.
“I’m Annette,” she said, holding out her hand with a smile. “You look new here.”
She shook my hand, clearly waiting to find out more about me.
“Oh, I’m a guest of Dylan Callahan. I’m his neighbor,” I added lamely when I realized that I was in a very elite room and should probably explain why I was there. “I’m Natalie.”
She smiled. “I was told to find you. Alex did mention he was sending a rookie to me,“ she took a swig of her beer and smiled widely. ”I just figured it would be one of his bros and not someone who might actually be capable of conversation.”
“I must say, I’m shocked to learn Alex knows someone who can speak in complete sentences,” I said. “Although, I guess Dylan speaks in complete sentences most of the time.”
My brain went to a dirty place where Dylan couldn’t speak complete sentences because of the pleasure coursing through him. I swallowed hard and pretended to look out at the field like I understood what was going on out there.
“So, how do you know Alex?” I asked, looking for Dylan out on the field.
“We hang out at a lot of these games,” she explained.
“You have season tickets?” I asked. I wondered what she must do for a living to afford tickets like these.
“Kind of. Marcus Johnson is my brother,” she explained. “I know a lot of the team because of him.”
“Oh, the quarterback, right?” That was one of the few names I recognized and actually understood the position they did.
“Yup. So you’re the neighbor , huh?” She looked me up and down, a wicked gleam in her eye. “Where’s Alex? He never misses a game. Said it was one of the few perks of the job. And they always give out multiple tickets to family.”
“He’s at home.” I nearly said blurted out that he was watching Dylan’s daughter, but managed to catch myself. “He has to watch one of his nieces. He couldn’t get out of babysitting.”
It was kind of true. Dylan was like a brother to Alex.
“Too bad, but I’m glad it’s not his grandma,” Annette said, looking back out at the game below us. “Seems like Dylan’s finally found his mojo again. I was sure he was going to be benched this game, but he’s out there and doing a decent job.”
“What?” I followed her gaze to see Dylan out on the field. He looked focused. Calm. He carried himself with confidence.
I realized that the huge Jumbotron TV overlooking the field was watching him too. There he was, larger than life up on the screen. He looked really good in his pads, too. They made his broad shoulders even more masculine and the skin tight pants made his butt look amazing. Plus, I knew that what was underneath was just as good as what was on display.
“Oh. Wow.” I swallowed hard, staring at his image on the screen.
“Yeah, just neighbors ,” Annette muttered under her breath, looking over at me and shaking her head. I wiped at the drool on my chin from staring at Dylan.
Below us, the teams formed two groups. The crowd was screaming but I had no idea what was going on.
“Isn’t this the part where they huddle up and talk about… what are they talking about?” I asked, wanting to change the subject.
“Plays,” Annette said. “They’re figuring out what they’re gonna do next. Cameron usually decides, but Marcus is the one who yells it out.”
“Oh. ” I nodded, pretending to understand, but my mind was racing. I mean, how did they talk about what to do?
“Hey, you go left buddy and I’ll throw you the ball but don’t get tackled, okay?”
I thought of all the little diagrams of x’s and o’s Dylan kept studying. How he could keep that in his mind while literal linebackers were after him was rather impressive.
They lined up. The center guy tossed the ball through his legs to Marcus. Marcus did not give the ball to Dylan. I had no clue what was going on, but the crowd cheered.
The announcer boomed something about a first down and rattled off names of players, but I was still lost. They lined up again.
The ball was snapped, and Dylan started running. Fast. The quarterback pulled back, looking for someone to pass to. Suddenly, the ball was flying through the air toward Dylan, and I felt my stomach flip. He reached up, caught it with perfect ease, and then—WHAM—he got slammed into by what could only be described as a human freight train. They both went down, hard.
I gasped and instinctively clutched the railing of the window. “Is that normal? He’s okay, right? Please tell me he’s okay.” I looked to the sideline, watching the medics and staff not react to the hit.
“Yeah, totally normal,” Annette replied casually. She sipped at her drink. “That wasn’t even that hard of a hit. And he got a first down, so he’s happy.”
No wonder he ached when he got home. This game was brutal. The guy that hit him was huge, and Dylan was not a small man.
Dylan popped back up like nothing had happened, giving the other guy a slap on the helmet. How was he so calm? Was he too calm? Could he be hiding a concussion? I should’ve checked him for signs of disorientation this morning. Did his pupils look uneven during breakfast? I’d been so focused on Ellie that I hadn’t thought to give him a mental health check for baseline.
“Hey, relax,” Annette said, noticing my wide-eyed panic. “Dylan’s tough. He can handle it.”
“I know he’s tough,” I sighed. “But he’s not invincible. You guys think he’s made of steel or something, but I’m the one who’s going to have to nurse him back to health when his ACL snaps like a rubber band!”
“Because you’re his neighbor ,” Annette added. “And that’s totally what neighbors do. Nurse each other back to health.”
I gave her a flat look and crossed my arms. “We’re friends too.”
She didn’t look like she believed me.
“Would you like a drink? We get free booze up here,” Annette offered, motioning to the bar on the side of the room. “You seem like you could use the drink.”
“That would probably help,” I admitted. I attempted a smile. “Although, I will warn you, I am a friendly drunk. And I will probably still be freaking out about Dylan’s bones.”
That made her laugh. “After that hit last season, we’re all freaking out about Dylan’s bones.” She grinned slyly at me. “But I think you’re the only one jumping them.”
I opened my mouth but she just laughed. “Right, I forgot. You’re just neighbors .”
“It’s still really new...” I mumbled.
“Don’t worry. I won’t say a thing,” she promised, guiding me to the bar.
The game went on, and with each hit Dylan took, I felt my blood pressure rise. One minute he was blocking some guy twice his size, and the next, he was diving for the ball like his life depended on it. I kept calculating in my head how long it would take to get him into a neck brace if anything went wrong.
Annette kept feeding me cold beers and answering questions about the players and the game.
“That’s Franklin. He’s a rookie this year, but he’s pretty good. He’s got a pet cat named Bob,” Annette informed me. “And the big guy to the right of Marcus, that’s Bob. Well, really he’s Robert Huxley the Third, but everyone calls him Bob. He does not appreciate that he shares his name with a cat.” She leaned forward, whispering like she was sharing a secret. “Probably because everyone likes the cat more. He smells better after the games.”
I giggled, my eyes still glued to the field. I actually found myself rooting for the other team to have the ball because that meant the defensive line was on the field instead of Dylan. Unfortunately, the Twisters were the better team and our offensive was out more than I would have liked.
I also got to see just how athletic Dylan was. I’d seen him up close and personal, but seeing him in action was a whole new world. He could run. He could jump. He could catch the ball. He could hit other guys.
And I found that I really liked it. I really liked watching him outrun players. I liked watching him figure out what the other team was doing and how to put himself in the best spot for Marcus to throw the ball. He was smarter than everyone out there. He wasn’t the fastest, but he knew how to use his speed and agility.
It was hot.
What was not hot was watching him get hit. That part I hated. That part scared the crap out of me and had me running mental nursing diagnostics every time the other team touched him.
Then came the moment I had been dreading. He caught another pass—clean, perfect—and then out of nowhere, two guys collided into him from opposite directions, like a tight end sandwich, with Dylan as the unfortunate filling.
I screamed.
“Oh my God! Oh my God, is he—” I grabbed Annette’s arm, spilling her beer.
“He’s fine,” Annette assured me, way too calmly for my liking.
“Fine?!” I squinted at the screen, trying to see if Dylan was moving because I couldn’t see it on the field. He was moving, but in my head, I was diagnosing him with at least four different injuries: concussion, fractured ribs, dislocated shoulder, and possibly a torn meniscus for good measure.
But, to my shock, Dylan just stood up, brushed himself off, and jogged back to the huddle like it was nothing. Not even a limp. How could he walk after that hit?
“Does he know what his spine looks like right now?” I groaned, sinking back into a chair. “I don’t think he’s aware of how fragile vertebrae are.”
“You should tell him that after the game,” Annette joked, but I was only half listening. The game was coming down to the final minutes, and Dylan was back on the field, lining up for one last play.
“Please don’t get hit again. Please don’t get hit again,” I whispered, my hands clasped like I was saying some sort of football-related prayer.
The ball was snapped, Dylan ran his route, and—thankfully—someone else caught the pass. No hit. No collision. No ER visits tonight. I exhaled for the first time in what felt like an hour.
“You doing okay, neighbor ?” Annette asked.
The final whistle blew, and we officially won. The entire stadium erupted into cheers, throwing pizza crusts in the air like confetti, but I just sat there in a daze, trying to calm my racing heart. I felt like I needed medical attention after watching that.
“So, what do you think?” Annette asked, finishing off her beer and grinning at me.
“Is it always this exciting?” I asked, looking out at the stadium. The place was pandemonium, but a happy cheerful pandemonium. Everyone was happy. Strangers were clapping one another on the back. Friends were laughing. People were holding doors and helping one another down the steep stairs.
“Yup. You should see when we get to the playoffs. It’s intense.” Annette looked out at the stadium. “The guys will be in a good mood tonight. And, your neighbor had a great game.”
She said neighbor like it was a naughty word.
“I think he finally figured out how to catch the ball,” I said with a grin. “I will take full accolades, as his neighbor . I definitely helped. I’m very good with balls.”
Annette laughed and slung her arm over my shoulder like we were the best of friends. “I hope you come to more games. You’re way more fun than Alex, but don’t tell him I said that.”
“I promise to absolutely tell him that,” I teased her, making us both laugh.
I realized why Dylan loved this game. The fans and the energy of the game was fast and loud. There was joy and competition. It felt like a family I didn’t know I had, but as long as I had on this jersey, I was a part of it. It felt good to be here.
I could feel the memories being made all around us. The friendship, the comradery, and even the good-natured teasing. It felt amazing to be a part of something this big.
My phone buzzed with a text. It was Dylan. I stepped away from Annette to read it, but she was already singing out of key with another watcher to the song playing overhead.
“How’d I do?”
I smiled, shaking my head. “You almost gave me a heart attack. Do you even feel pain?!”
“Not when I know you’re watching ?”
Ugh. He was insufferable. But also kind of adorable.
“Stick around. I’ll have someone come get you and I’ll drive you home,” he texted.
“You are cheaper than surge pricing, so you got it,” I replied, ending the message with a wink face.
I didn’t understand all the stats or the plays, but I understood one thing—I was proud of him. Even if he was currently giving me gray hairs.
I sat down in a chair and nursed my beer. I knew that Dylan had to talk to reporters, and his coach, and shower, and change. He probably would get his wrist looked at, so I had plenty of time before he was ready. I didn’t mind waiting. I watched the people hugging and laughing. I watched the little kids riding on their dads’ shoulders and waving to strangers. I watched couples, families, and friends, all smiling and cheering to the music blaring overhead.
On the Jumbotron, key plays flickered across the screen. I winced as Dylan caught the ball, but got smushed in the process. Everyone seemed fine with it since he scored. I might not know football, but I knew one thing: I would need a stronger stomach if I were going to keep dating an NFL player.
And possibly a subscription to a meditation app.