Chapter 24
twenty-four
Cash
I adjust my black bow tie in the mirror and take a final glance at myself.
I look damn good. In past years, I’ve been known to show up in an eye-catching tux—last year I went for forest green—but this year, with Georgia at my side, it’s all about class.
Sleek black tux, cuff links shaped like tiny dice, fresh haircut to keep my curls under control, my smallest studs in my ears—always gotta have a little sparkle.
There’s no reason to be nervous, if that’s even what I’m feeling.
I’ve been off all day, uncomfortable with the energy running through me, a mix of anxiety, anticipation, and nostalgia.
And when I think too much about tonight and the fact that it’s the last Shafer Football Banquet I’ll attend, straight-up sadness.
Our college careers are done, and for most of us, our football careers too. My brain can barely comprehend it.
A bang rattles the door before it flies open, Reeve appearing on the other side. “Let’s go, man. Train leaves in ten minutes.” He looks me over. “Nice tux.”
“Nice tux? That’s all you got? I think you meant ‘Damn, just when I thought I was hot shit, I walk in and there’s Cash Hartnell making me look like a fool.’” I give him a cocky grin. “Am I right?”
“Must be fun living in your head. You get to believe anything you want.” He holds out a bottle of Scotch. “Not that you’ve got any inhibitions to lose, but a little nip before we hit the road?”
“Please.” I take the bottle, limiting myself to the little nip offered.
I’ve been known to show up to the banquet with a real nice buzz; however, I keep thinking about Georgia and how I want to be on my best behavior with her tonight.
She hasn’t said so, but I know she’s nervous about the whole thing: black-tie event, formalwear, speeches and awards, and a roomful of chatty, schmoozing people who’ve been showing up to this event for years.
And meanwhile, she’s my sweet, quiet homebody.
Some girls—including my dates for the past three years—consider an invitation to the football banquet an invitation to dine with royalty.
And while that’s an exaggeration, the truth is that on campus, the football team is royalty.
Most girls seem to love the opportunity to get dressed up and rub elbows with the best-known names on campus.
Georgia, though? She’s a different breed.
I’m still figuring out how to really impress a girl like her.
I don’t want to make this night anything less than magical for her.
Twenty minutes later, we pull up in front of the apartment Jade and Lenni share to collect our girls.
With it being our senior year, Cam, Reeve, Lorenzo, and I shelled out for a limo to the hotel where the banquet is held every year.
As we step out of the car and onto the sidewalk, the girls are already pushing through the front door, a vision of sparkly fabric, shiny hair, and big smiles.
My heart stops when I set eyes on Georgia.
The word radiant has never once crossed my mind until I see her.
One glimpse tells me she’s as happy and as nervous about this night as I am, her smile uncertain yet genuine.
Her hair cascades down her shoulders in perfect curls, and her long strapless dress is the same crystal blue as her eyes.
I’m speechless as I take her in, tracing her body from the hint of cleavage to her nipped-in waist to her long legs, which are tantalizingly visible under sheer beaded fabric, the lining of the dress cutting off at her thighs.
Love and lust and straight-up pride to call her mine battle for dominance in my brain.
In the end, I quit trying to name it and let myself feel pure fucking happiness.
In the limo, she carefully smooths her dress out over her legs before sitting back and letting out a huge breath.
“You look so beautiful,” I murmur against her ear. “This is already one of the best nights of my life, and it hasn’t even started yet.”
Georgia glows under my praise.
“Are you excited?”
“I think so. And nervous.” That’s evident in the slight waver in her tone.
“Know what? Me too.”
“You? I don’t believe you’ve ever been nervous for anything in your life.”
“I wasn’t until you came along.”
She cocks her head, doubtful, but accepts the compliment.
“You let me know what you need, okay? I want this to be special for you.”
“It already is,” she assures me. “Don’t worry about me. This is your night.”
“It’s our night. The first time we walk into a room with me in a tux and you in a big, beautiful gown…and definitely not the last.”
She blushes, and I know how I sound. Way too in love, way too over-the-top, but I don’t care. I don’t even care if my friends overhear and give me shit about it for the rest of the year. I mean every word, and I don’t give a single shit who knows I’m in love with Georgia Grant.
Georgia gasps as we walk through the double doors of the hotel ballroom, which looks like it’s been dipped in gold.
On either side of the room, massive columns are set into the walls, between which sit floor-to-ceiling arched windows framed by gold draperies.
Circular tables dot the carpeted floor, each surrounded by gilded chairs and anchored by white floral centerpieces that look aglow thanks to tiny candles scattered on the tabletop.
At the back of the room is the wooden stage where speeches and awards will take place later.
The entire space is bathed in warm light from the gold-and-crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceilings and the sconces fixed along the walls.
“Fancy, huh?” I say as she gazes around, starry-eyed.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Still not beautiful enough for you.”
She clings to my arm as we stroll the room, greeting people and scouting out our table.
By the time we’ve located the crisp white place cards with our names written in gold calligraphy, my nerves have settled down, the scent of her perfume and the feel of her body tight against mine the soothing reminder that no matter what happens tonight, I have what I need.
After she’s been subjected to a good hour of schmoozing with my teammates, coaches, and their dates, we find Ruby tapping her toes to the jazz music twinkling in the background and plucking stuffed mushrooms from a passing tray.
Knowing Ruby will take care of her, I leave Georgia and head for the bar to get us a couple drinks, sending a quick text to Maisy on the way to make sure she’s taking good care of my Jangles tonight.
“What’s up?” I greet my teammate Bryce when I find him double-fisting vodka at the bar. “You clean up nice.” I’ve never much liked the guy, but since I’ll never have to play alongside him again, it’s easy to be nice.
“Likewise.” He sips one of his drinks and tips his chin past my shoulder. “What are you doing, importing chicks from outside Shafer now?”
“She’s at Shafer,” I say shortly, then turn to the bartender. “Two Cokes and a water, please.”
“Her?” Bryce looks across the room to where Georgia stands with Ruby. “No way. I’d have noticed that girl before.”
I can’t stand the predatory look in his eye. I give him a smack with the back of my hand, a little harder than playful, to get his eyes off her. “What can I say? You missed out.”
“How long you planning on keeping her around?” His slimy smirk pisses me off.
“Not gonna happen for you. Not ever, man. This one’s sticking around.”
“Yeah, right. Since when do you hold on more than a couple weeks?”
My jaw clenches as I gather my drinks off the bar. “Since Georgia came along.” I push past him and head for her, eager to have her at my side.
I shouldn’t let it bother me. Bryce is a creep and always has been.
If we weren’t teammates, I probably would’ve kicked his ass a dozen times over the years because he’s got the kind of mouth his scrawny ass can’t back up.
But it’s not just him. It’s everyone who smirks at the idea of me getting serious with a girl, including my sister.
It’s the idea of Georgia ever belonging to anyone else.
It’s knowing that, from now until she’s old and wrinkled, dudes will want a piece of her, and too many will mistake her sweetness for an invitation.
I can’t forget that. She’s mine now—to protect, to love, to make sure not a single day goes by that she wonders if she made a mistake when she picked me.
After an impressive dinner and a few speeches from coaches and distinguished alumni, it’s time for the awards ceremony.
My muscles are all quivery, and not until Georgia grabs my hand under the table do I realize I’ve been running it up and down my pant leg.
I haven’t let myself think too much about the awards in the last few weeks, told myself they don’t matter once the night is over.
My heartbeat says otherwise, though. This team has been my life for almost four years.
What if this is my last shot to have my name permanently attached to the sport I love?
Most of the awards I’m not eligible for, anyway: defensive awards, academic awards, the award for the seniors with the highest GPA—that one goes to Cam and one of our kickers.
But the ones I’d have liked to take home come and go, and I’m still sitting down clapping for my teammates.
Which I admit is almost as good as winning.
Seeing my friends grinning with pride and a little embarrassment, remembering the highlights of our season, feeling like a team again after weeks apart.
I’ve always loved the awards banquet, and having my girlfriend here with me makes it that much better.
She listens to every word of the speeches, which have got to be mind-numbing for her, and claps enthusiastically for my teammates even though she doesn’t know most of them.
And I keep looking over and finding her smiling and laughing when Ruby, seated next to her, leans in to whisper in her ear, probably sharing some embarrassing stories about my teammates.
Then, suddenly, Georgia’s staring at me wide-eyed, her hands over her mouth—actually, everyone at my table is watching me—and I realize my name’s just been called. Offensive Player of the Year.
I won.
It’s a good thing award winners aren’t asked to make speeches, because I’ve got nothing.
My ego and I knew we had a decent chance of winning something tonight, but when it happens, I’m caught completely off guard.
I make my way to the front, passing teammates who cheer and slap me on the back and murmur words of congratulation.
Coach Haskins, head coach for all four years of my time at Shafer, gives me a big smile as he hands me the heavy wood plaque with my name engraved.
After a quick photo with Coach, I take a moment to bask in the view from the stage.
My eyes dart to Georgia, and emotion tightens my throat at the look on her face.
You’d think I just won the Nobel Peace Prize by the way she gazes up at me, her eyes shiny with prideful tears.
It’s a moment I’ve spent years waiting for and picturing in full-color detail ever since I was a freshman watching the upperclassmen walk to the front of this ballroom and accept their awards: a crowning glory of a fantastic college football career, all attention on me, everyone clapping for me, years of hard work finally recognized.
And now it’s real, but all that detail is background noise because the one thing I never fantasized about—doing it all in front of the woman I love—turns out to be what makes this moment so perfect.
For the first time tonight, the bittersweet feeling fades, and all that’s left is happiness because this moment feels not like an end but a beginning. The beginning of the future I never thought to hope for.