Chapter 20
TWENTY
JAXON WILDE
“There she is,” Barber says, nodding toward the Jumbotron as I slump onto the bench, cooling off.
I’ve been on the field a while. Dropped the ball once. Forced out of bounds twice to avoid getting obliterated. Chauncy Boyd’s on me like white on rice—or more accurately, like flies on shit. He’s got my number today.
I glance up. And there she is.
Zara.
Her face fills the screen, all lit up with a camera-ready smile. She’s waving, trying hard to play the part.
She doesn’t fit in up there. Not with the wives and girlfriends. Not with the polished gloss of that world.
And somehow, I like that.
She’s out of place, but she’s her.
I wonder what Ben Robinson, Jake Ness, Griff Howes, and Cal Navarro are saying about her on the broadcast. Then, my own face shows up beside hers on the screen.
Side-by-side.
We look good together.
I’ve never really seen it until now. But… yeah. We do.
Then suddenly she looks away, reaching for something.
Food.
She’s pulling a sandwich from a tray like she’s been waiting all day to eat it. I squint. Is that a shrimp po’ boy?
Genesis leans toward her, says something, probably trying to coach her into playing it up for the camera.
But Zara? Her eyes roll back like she’s in heaven from the first bite. Then she gives a slow, exaggerated thumbs-up—mouth full—and the entire stadium loses it.
Roars of laughter and cheers.
And she’s just… chewing. Like nothing happened. Like she’s not being watched by seventy-thousand fans and a national audience.
“She must be hungry,” Barber says, cracking up. “Is that a po’ boy? Damn.”
I chuckle, trying to hide it—but I can feel it. The grin pulling at my face.
Barber glances at me, smirking. “Look at you.”
“What?”
“I never thought I’d see the day you’d look at a woman like that.”
I shake my head, trying to wipe the smile off my face. But he’s not wrong.
This is a game. I’ve got a job to do.
I refocus on the field.
Chauncy Boyd is waiting.
I need to shake him. I need to score.