Chapter 19
Iris
It’s freezing.
And I never thought I would say this, but I’m excited about a football game.
It’s the last game of the season, the state championship.
I spot Nate immediately, standing on the sidelines in his red polo, sleeves rolled up, talking to the other team’s coach.
He looks… really hot.
I clear my throat, looking around like someone might catch me staring at my boyfriend with googly eyes. The game’s about to start. I should go find Alex.
But when Nate sees me, his face lights up.
He excuses himself and starts toward me, and it hits me hard that even at the biggest game of the year, I’m what made him smile like that.
When we meet by the fence, his gaze drops to the red hoodie I’m wearing, the one that he gave me after our first date.
“God damn, Darlin’,” he drawls, sexier than he has any right to be, “you gotta know you’re killing me.”
My face feels warm as I duck my head, tugging at the hem. “It’s yours.”
“Looks a hell of a lot better on you, though,” he says, leaning in closer. “You’ve got no idea what seeing you wearing that does to me.”
“Nate, stop,” I whisper, glancing around. “People will hear you.”
He chuckles, a low sound that makes my stomach tighten. “Can’t help it.”
I bite my lip as my heart starts to pick up for reasons other than being at a sports event. “You should go. The game’s starting soon.”
He sighs, regret flashing across his face. “Have you seen Alex yet?”
“Not yet. I was going to look for him.”
“He came with me, should already be in the stands,” Nate says, stepping back, but his hand is still on top of mine on the fence like he doesn’t quite want to let me go. “Text me where y’all are sitting so I can see you.”
“I will.”
Before he jogs off, he dips his head and murmurs, warm against my ear, “Thanks for coming. Means more than you know.”
He gives me a quick kiss that makes my knees feel weak, and then he’s off, jogging back to the sideline, calling something out to the assistant coach.
I don’t see Alex, so I assume he must’ve gone to get something to eat, and I make my way up the bleachers, careful not to trip over anyone. Stopping briefly to wave at Addie from where she sits under a shared blanket with Emily.
The cold wind bites at my face, but my hoodie is warm, and it still smells faintly like Nate. I pull out my phone to text him where I’m sitting, but pause when I spot Alex.
He’s standing off to the side, looking uncomfortable with his shoulders hunched. I begin to approach him, to find out what’s wrong, before I see the person he’s talking to.
Jason Barnett.
They’re close. Too close for two people who, by all accounts, don’t even know each other. Jason is saying something, his mouth twisted into an angry frown, while Alex’s jaw is set, facing the ground, with his fists clenched at his sides.
Whatever Alex says next makes Jason even angrier.
He pushes Alex hard, sending him back against the wall, before he stomps away toward the locker room.
I watch Alex, leaning against the wall, clutching his chest.
I know that feeling all too well.
Jason’s been nothing but nice in class. He participates and asks questions, and when his dad was an ass, he apologized.
I can’t believe he would be capable of bullying Alex, especially considering he’s Nate’s brother.
I stand there, frozen, with my breath fogging in the cold. Part of me wants to run down the bleachers and demand to know what the hell that was about.
Another part of me isn’t sure it’s my place.
Maybe I should get Nate.
Alex straightens up before I can decide, shoving his hands into his pockets. He slowly starts to climb the bleachers, switching directions when he spots me.
“Are you okay?” I ask when he’s in hearing range.
“Fine,” he says, sliding into the empty seat beside me. His voice is rough, and I can see a flush on his face that I’m not sure is from the cold.
“Alex…” I start, but he shakes his head once.
“Don’t. I’m fine.”
“I saw whatever that was. It didn’t look fine.”
He flinches, barely enough to notice if you’re not paying attention, but I am. “It’s nothing, Iris. Just forget it.”
“You know, when I was in high school,” I say. “Some of the other students used to push me around and say some really hurtful things.”
He stiffens, but looks over at me. “You?” He asks, disbelief in his tone.
That pulls a small laugh from me, even though it’s not funny at all.
If only he knew.
I nod. “I know what it feels like to wish someone would see it.”
Alex’s eyes flicker to mine. There’s something there, something he isn’t saying, but I have no way of knowing what it is. “It ain’t like that.”
“Okay, but if you ever need someone to talk to,” I tell him, but he keeps his eyes on the field, shoulders drawn tight.
Below, the team is running out of the locker room, helmets flashing under the lights. The crowd roars, stomping and clapping, the bleachers rattling under us. Nate’s there too, clipboard in hand, jaw set in that determined way.
Jason is looking in our direction.
I can’t see his face with his helmet on, but I’d bet anything he’s still wearing that angry glare. Alex sinks even further into his seat, leaning into me, subconsciously seeking safety or comfort.
Something is definitely wrong.
Halftime feels like it takes forever to arrive, a rare feeling for the Rams, who are undefeated this year.
The scoreboard shows us down by ten, and the whole stadium is restless, that tense buzz of a crowd that knows something’s wrong.
Nate is pacing back and forth near the bench, his hair is a mess from running his hand through it too many times. Jason jogs off the field, pulling his helmet off and running his hand over his face in clear frustration.
Nate stalks over to him, shouting something I can’t hear from a distance.
The real chance that the team might lose this game makes my stomach twist. Nate was so excited. He was sure that they would win this year.
He steps in closer, saying something more urgent, but Jason looks away, his body tense, like a cornered animal.
Next to me, Alex’s knee bounces so fast the whole bench rattles.
I watch him out of the corner of my eye. His face is drawn, locked on Jason as if he’s waiting for something awful to happen.
“Alex,” I lean closer so he can hear me over the marching band. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” he mutters, “He just… Jason’s gonna mess this up. Nate’s gonna lose it.”
“Why? What happened?” Alex doesn’t answer. He won’t even look at me.
Nate’s shouting, trying to get something across to Jason, but it’s doing nothing. His face is flushed, with frustration in every move.
The other players hover nearby, trying not to stare, but it’s obvious that he’s falling apart out there.
When Nate finally turns away, he looks tired. He’s given everything, and still, he might come up short over someone else’s mistakes.
I want to run down there and hug him and tell him it’s okay.
But I can’t, so I watch from the bleachers, helpless.
Next to me, Alex keeps looking between Jason and Nate, chewing at his bottom lip so hard it’s probably bleeding. “If something’s wrong, maybe you should tell Nate.”
He jerks like I slapped him. “No. You don’t get it. I can’t.”
Before I can ask what that means, the band finishes, and the teams run back onto the field. Jason hangs back a step, and Nate claps a hand on his shoulder.
I wrap my arms around myself, the air suddenly feeling much colder.
The whistle blows.
For a tense moment, there’s stunned silence, and then our side of the stands explodes, cheers echoing across the field.
We won.
Nate is on the sideline, as stunned as everyone else, staring at the scoreboard like he can’t quite believe it.
Then, his face cracks open, revealing the biggest smile I’ve ever seen.
He shouts something, and the boys rush him, helmets off, yelling and hugging and celebrating.
Next to me, Alex exhales, relief evident in his face.
I stand up and hurry down the bleachers, weaving through the crowd of people leaving.
I have to get to Nate.
When he spots me through the chaos, his face softens into something different, only for me. And then, before I can even say his name, he’s striding toward me across the field.
“Nate,” I start, but he doesn’t slow down.
His hand catches mine, and he pulls me into him, cupping my face with both of his hands and kisses me.
Right there, in the middle of the field, surrounded by cheering players, students, and most of the town.
His mouth is hot and desperate on mine, and I feel a flicker of arousal trying to ignite in my gut. I don’t even remember where we are as his tongue dances with mine, consumed by desire.
When he pulls back, his forehead presses to mine, our breath visible between us. His thumb brushes my cheek and-
There’s a loud catcall from off to the side.
We separate to find a bunch of football players watching us.
“Holy shit, Coach!” one of the boys yells. “Get a room!”
“Damn, Coach, you bangin’ Ms. Patel?” another hoots, helmet tucked under his arm.
“Go Rams!” someone else shouts triumphantly.
Nate laughs, ducking his head before looking back at me, with shining eyes. “Sorry, couldn’t help it.”
“It’s okay,” I say, still dizzy from being kissed senseless. “I’m glad you couldn’t.”
The boys carry on teasing us, but there’s no malice, only warmth and camaraderie. Like they’re actually happy for him.
For us, even.
The Monday after the game, the halls feel louder than usual.
Even after having the weekend to cool off, most of the students and faculty are still hyped about winning. Vice Principal Holloway even seems sort of happy today, and that never happens.
The Rosehill Rams are the Mississippi state champions, and my boyfriend coached them to their victory.
I couldn’t be more proud.
Sorting through fliers and late work by the teacher mailboxes, I spot Nate walking down the hall, his usual brightness shining even more this morning. “Hey, Darlin’. Can you believe it? We actually won!”
“I can, but seeing you this happy might be my favorite part.”