Chapter Twenty-One Taryn
? Chapter Twenty-One
? Taryn
“T ook you two long enough,” Zoe said as we worked our way through the crowd thronging into the stadium for Saturday’s home game. “You’ve been watching each other for years, pretending you don’t have feelings. Honestly, it was silly.”
We found our seats and spread a blanket over them.
“But highly entertaining to watch,” Zoe continued. Her laughter washed over me, and I may or may not have smacked her arm as we laid out the blanket.
“You didn’t have a clue how we felt. Both of us never let on,” I said as I wrapped a second blanket around her shoulders and mine. Though we hadn’t had any snow yet, winter was definitely riding the wind.
She patted the side of my face with her mittened hand. “Oh, my darling na?ve friend. Whenever you’re together, neither one of you can keep your eyes off the other. Several of us in the drama club had bets on when you’d finally give in and start dating.” Her expression was smug. “I won.”
Widening my eyes, I asked, “What date did you pick?”
“Prom.” Her eyes danced. “Derek did everything he could to force you to go with him. But I was pulling for Danny, and he came through.”
It was my turn to drop a patronizing tone on my friend. “You should return everyone’s money, Zoe.” At her raised brow, I said, “It wasn’t a real date. We went as buddies. If you don’t believe me, I’ll show you the pics. We couldn’t have been more awkward if we’d tried.”
“It’s your story, Taryn. Tell it any way you want. But I know what I saw—what we all saw. It drove Derek Watson and Kaitlyn Frost bonkers that they couldn’t crack either of you.” She bounced a friendly elbow against my side. “Again, highly entertaining.”
“Glad my life has been such a source of amusement for you,” I said, not bothering to keep the sarcasm from my tone.
Wrapping her arms around my middle, my friend hugged me tight. “You know I love you, Taryn. That’s why I’m so jacked that you and Danny finally admitted to how you feel about each other. If anyone deserves a happily ever after, it’s you two, especially after the way Aaron treated you.”
“Aaron was good to me—until he wasn’t. But some of that was my fault.”
All of it was my fault. God, what was I going to do if my problem was all mine? What if it had nothing to do with Aaron not being the right guy?
The cannons in the end zone fired, signaling the band to play the Wildcats’ fight song. The mounted riders galloped out of the tunnel ahead of the tumbling cheerleaders. With a roar, the team raced out behind them, and fireworks shot off above the stands in the home end zone.
Through the cannon and fireworks smoke, I watched for number 82 and could sense my smile covering my entire face when I caught sight of him.
Danny jogged over to the bench and took his spot beside the coaches. Judging from the fact that he’d been playing more downs as the season had progressed, his strategy must be working for him. That and tearing it up in practice, apparently.
Knowing the intensity of his focus, I wasn’t surprised when he didn’t seek me out in the stands. Zoe, however, was shocked.
“WTF, Taryn? Danny didn’t even glance up to find you. How can he be sure you’re even here?” A sly expression crossed her face. “Wait. You two have some sort of secret connection—something psychic—don’t you?”
“Oh, yeah. For sure. A total mind meld.” I rolled my eyes hard enough to pull a muscle.
Zoe laughed.
“Danny’s goal is to earn a scholarship, which requires his total focus on the game. If he was hunting the stands for me, I’d have to stop coming to games.”
With a sage nod, she said, “You have it so bad for him.” Slipping her arm through mine, she gave me another squeeze. “I’m glad you’re finally admitting it.”
After the coin toss, the captains of each team returned to their respective sidelines and the team huddled together before our kicking unit headed out onto the field. Our kicker knocked the ball into the end zone, so the Trojans started the game on their twenty-five-yard line. It was obvious our defense had come to play when we forced them into a three-and-out on their first possession. When they kicked off to us, our returner managed to catch the ball and advance it about fifteen yards before their special teams could tackle him. Then it was our turn to play offense.
Though the action was on the field, I couldn’t help but slide my gaze to the sidelines for any clue that Danny might be going into the game soon. Instead, the coach seemed to want to establish the run game, so all the focus was on the running back, Tarvarius Johnson. The Wildcats managed a couple of first downs, but in the end, like the Trojans, we had to punt the ball on our first possession too. Then our defense blew up their play and recovered a fumble near their twenty-yard line. Two plays later we scored a touchdown.
The crowd erupted, fireworks shot off above the stadium, the cheerleaders did a series of tumbling passes across the end zone, and the band played a rousing rendition of the school fight song. Zoe and I cheered like maniacs alongside everyone else.
Our defense held them again, and our offense returned to the field. When Danny jogged out with the rest of the starters, my heart did a little backflip in my chest. He lined up on the end close to the big linemen. When the quarterback hiked the ball, he pushed forward with them, blocking a defensive player while the running back did his thing running behind them. On the next play, Danny moved to the opposite side of the field near Callahan O’Reilly, the hotshot everyone on campus recognized in or out of uniform. The quarterback called the cadence, and when the center hiked the ball, Danny slipped in behind Callahan then sprinted out from his block. The quarterback dropped back and threw the ball. Danny tracked it in the air, caught it, and turned upfield at a full sprint. A big defender came at him, and my hand flew to my mouth, but Danny did some kind of fake with his hips, causing the defender to whiff the tackle and land face-first in the turf. He was the last guy between Danny and the end zone.
Though my attention never left him, Zoe and I grabbed each other and jumped up and down screaming with joy as he crossed the goal line. Only after he was safe inside the end zone did he raise the hand holding the ball in the air before flipping it to a ref. No fanfare. No histrionics. His entire demeanor announced he’d been there before. So cool.
His teammates rushed to mob him, with Callahan running up to him for a midair chest bump. Other guys slapped him on the back and the helmet as they all trotted off the field. When Danny reached the sidelines, several coaches fist-bumped him and slapped him on the pads as he walked back to the bench area. Only when he raised his helmet to squirt water from a plastic bottle into his mouth did his gaze wander to the stands, zeroing in on me. When our eyes locked, he winked. Then he finished rehydrating, dropped his helmet back down to cover his face, and headed back to his usual spot beside the coach.
Even though I’d not once seen him sneak a peek into the stands during the half, he somehow knew exactly where I was. My heart, already racing with excitement at his stellar play, was now galloping into overdrive while my face heated enough to melt the winter chill on my cheeks, and my hands turned clammy inside my mittens.
The Wildcats played one more offensive drive before halftime, but Danny only got in on two downs and was a blocker for the running back on both of them. Our guys went into the locker room at halftime up by two scores, which meant most of the fans headed out to the parking lots to celebrate at the intermission tailgates. As always, Zoe and I were two of the few fans who remained in the stands during the halftime band extravaganza.
Truth be told, even though I’d been a cheerleader in high school, I’d always loved the band. I loved making up dance routines to their game-day music and watching the halftime performances. In retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have followed in my sister Tally’s footsteps quite as much as I had. Maybe then I would have picked up something other than violin and stuck with it through high school—maybe even played in the marching band and avoided all the drama that came with cheering on a team captained by Kaitlyn Frost.
After the band marched off the field, we headed down to the concessions for some much-needed coffee to warm up. As we made our way back into the stands, I saw we’d missed the second-half kickoff since our offense—minus Danny—was running onto the field. At halftime, we were up by two scores, so I had hope that he’d have even more playing time in the second half. But the opening drive belonged to his roommate O’Reilly, who seemed to carry the entire offense on his back as he blocked for the running back on a few downs and caught all the passes on the passing plays, eventually leading the Wildcats to another touchdown.
Unlike Danny, Callahan’s brand of cool included pointing the ball at someone in the stands. The on-field cameras followed his line of sight, and a pretty brunette wearing a Wildcats scarf appeared on the screen of the Jumbotron above the end zone. When she figured out her face was being broadcast over the stadium, she covered it with the scarf while a couple of guys beside her hugged her and pointed to the massive screen.
I could relate to the woman’s embarrassment. No way would I want Danny to draw attention to me like that. The sexy wink he shot me after his heroics with scoring his touchdown had done enough to upset my equilibrium, thankyouverymuch. My heart had hammered in my chest for at least the next ten minutes, leaving me a bit lightheaded.
Zoe had no such qualms. “How fun would it be for Danny to single you out like that when he makes his next touchdown?” She smirked. “I’d totally ham it up with you, make sure the cameras stayed on us for at least twenty or thirty seconds—enough time for us to be famous.”
“You are out of your mind, Zoe Lampee. If Danny ever points a ball at me the way Callahan just did to that girl, I’m dropping into my seat and putting my head between my knees.” At my friend’s are-you-for-real stare, I used my best innocent tone. “Isn’t that the classic advice to stave off passing out?”
“You are zero fun, Taryn. Total buzz killer.” Shoving a fist on her hip, she eyed me up and down. “I can’t believe the person who was so enthusiastic about whipping up the crowd for all the football games in high school now wants to avoid all attention.” Shaking her head, she rearranged the blanket we were sharing and added under her breath, “So weird.”
The crowd’s loud cheering when the defense forced another turnover shut down Zoe’s commentary. The issue wasn’t that I wanted to avoid attention: it was my friend’s incessant need for it. She’d won the lead in the theater department’s fall production coming up before Thanksgiving. One would have thought that was enough for one semester, but apparently, twenty seconds of screen time on the Jumbotron during a game was an even bigger accomplishment.
“If Danny ever points a ball my way, no one but he and I will know he’s not pointing it at you, so when I duck, you can put on a show for the crowd. No doubt you’ll be able to keep the camera trained on you for a full thirty seconds.” I returned my attention to the field where the offense, including the man in question, was lining up to start their next drive.
Beside me, my friend snorted, but I noticed how her attention focused on the action on the gridiron.
As it turned out, Callahan O’Reilly gained all the glory, and deservedly so since he’d scored his second touchdown of the game. Once again, he pointed the ball at the stands, but the lady he singled out was ready this time with her scarf covering her face up to her eyes. Whoever he was dating, she wanted to remain as anonymous as he was local-hero famous.
Following the game, Zoe and I headed to our favorite burger place, but the wait was an hour, and we were starving.
“How ’bout we go to my place and order Pickle Barrel delivered?” I asked.
“You don’t have plans with Danny?”
“Um—”
On cue, my phone vibrated in my pocket. When I checked it, I saw a text from Danny.
Danny: Hey T. It’s celebration time. Meet me at Stromboli’s?
I fired back:
Me: Zoe and I were thinking Pickle Barrel delivered to my place.
Danny: Negative, Ghost Rider. I scored a touchdown in the game today. Meet me at Stromboli’s in ten.
Me: Then we can go to plan B when that place is packed too.
Danny: If it’s too crowded, you can sit on my lap.
Me: Will Zoe occupy your other knee?
Danny: Taryn, babe. I have single teammates who’ll love Zoe’s lack of filter. Stop stalling and meet me in seven.
Me: I thought you said ten.
Danny: Killin’ me, T. I haven’t seen you since Thursday.
Me: And here I thought Zoe was the drama major.
Me: See you at Stromboli’s.
“I take it you have plans with Danny now?” My friend smirked.
“We both have plans with Danny now,” I corrected as I pocketed my phone. “Pizza with the team at Stromboli’s.”
Zoe bounced up and down. “Yay! I’ve always wanted to hang out with Wildcats players at their favorite bar after games, but whenever I’ve tried, it’s been too packed.”
I sighed as we walked back to where Zoe had parked her car. “Judging by the wait at Burger Bill’s, Stromboli’s will be packed tonight too. We’ll be sitting on someone’s lap—if we find a place to sit at all.”
A sly expression passed over my friend’s face. “I don’t see a problem with that either.”