42
Saturday, August 30 th
Blake
“This is our house! This is our year! And Georgia is the first stop on the road to our championship! Let’s do this!” Coach Gordan shouts at the top of his lungs, finishing his speech off with a bang.
The locker room goes wild, most of my teammates jumping up and down and hooting and hollering as they high-five and chest-bump one another. And I grab my mouthpiece and helmet from my locker and give myself a mental pep talk.
Focus, you motherfucker. It’s game time.
The coaching staff leads our team toward the tunnel, and I follow like a dutiful soldier.
For the last week, all my mind has wanted to think about is a certain beautiful blond girl who broke my goddamn heart. It’s taken every ounce of willpower I have not to reach out to her. Not to text her or call her. Not to show up at her apartment. Hell, even though I know for a fact that she’s officially done with her doctorate program, I’ve been so tempted to make a pit stop at the Ferris Research Lab between my classes and practices just to see if she’s in there.
But I’ve managed to survive another seven days without her.
I’ve managed to eat and sleep and go to practice and classes.
I’ve managed it all, but I wouldn’t say I’ve done it well.
My head was in my asshole pretty much every practice, so much so that Coach Gordan asked me to come into his office after practice on Thursday to have an impromptu heart-to-heart. I didn’t have the balls to tell him I’m a fucking love-sick fool who is missing the girl of his goddamn dreams because she told him to move on.
Instead, I made some excuse of having issues with migraines, but I tried to lift his spirits by telling him I’m feeling a lot better. He made me see our team physician, and once I got the all clear, Coach Gordan didn’t look like someone pissed in his Cheerios anymore.
And even though, on the inside, I feel like absolute dog shit, I refuse to drag my teammates to the depths of hell with me. They deserve better than that. They deserve for me to stay focused and have the kind of mental clarity that wins football games.
And this game is an important one.
Today marks the official kickoff of the Dragons’ football season. And while I haven’t officially set foot in the stadium yet, with the roars and cheers from the crowd echoing inside the tunnel that leads to the field, I’m certain we’re dealing with a full house.
Georgia is one of our biggest rivals, and while they aren’t the team we lost the championship to last year—fuck you, Buffalo—we need to win if we want to stand a chance at another championship opportunity.
And fuck, I want another opportunity. In fact, I refuse to accept anything less this year.
Then get your head out of your ass and focus on the win.
I might have my future plans set on playing in the NFL, but right now, my sights are set on leading the Dickson Dragons to a championship.
My helmet sits on top of my head, and I shake the tension out of my arms and hands as we sit and wait to be announced to the field. It’s a decades-long university tradition that the first game of the season includes a ceremony of sorts where each football player walks out onto the field with one of the Dickson cheerleaders for good luck.
Personally, I think it’s a little fucking stupid, but I refuse to bring the vibes down. A good quarterback, a good leader, doesn’t bitch and moan about petty shit.
And trust me, I know, complaining about something like this is top-tier petty.
“You ready, Boden?” Drake asks. His helmet is already over his face, but I don’t miss the pirate’s smile on his lips.
Drake Martin has always been a crazy motherfucker, and anyone who’s seen his running game would know he’s reckless in a good way. The man takes tackles like he doesn’t feel pain and gets a thrill out of taking on a three-hundred-pound linebacker. He’s nuts and lives and eats football just like I always have.
“Of course I’m ready.” I reach out to slap the top of his helmet. “Let’s fucking go!”
“Hell yeah, BB!” he agrees and then raises his voice so every one of our teammates waiting in the tunnel can hear him. “Let’s fucking go!”
The response is several shouts and cheers that eventually turn into, “Dragons! Dragons! Dragons!” Followed by “Eat shit, Georgia!”
Seeing as that last part technically goes against the Dragons Football code of ethics, I know Coach Gordan has to be rolling his eyes over it, but he’s also not saying anything. The more amped up we are, the better.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please stand up from your seats!” the announcer exclaims. “And get ready to welcome this year’s Dickson Dragons to the field!”
The crowd bursts into excitement. And the student section doesn’t disappoint when they start shouting, “BBE! BBE!”
Yes, it’s a play on BDE—otherwise known as Big Dick Energy—and yes, they are utilizing my initials. It’s something that started halfway through my freshman season and caught on.
In front of me, each of my teammates starts to walk out of the tunnel, meeting up with their Dragons’ cheerleader match, and walking onto the field with her arm tucked within theirs.
It’s tradition that the quarterback is the last one to exit the tunnel, and it’s a first-game-of-the-season tradition that the quarterback walks onto the field with the captain of this year’s Dickson cheerleaders.
I can’t for the life of me remember which cheerleader was named captain this year, and there’s a small part of me that’s annoyed it’s not Scottie Bardeaux. But I swallow it down and force a smile to my lips when I reach the end of the tunnel.
Instantly, my eyes look out toward the packed stadium, taking in the gold-and-navy crowd of excited fans. Fuck, this is why I’m here. This is what I love. This is what I live for.
Once Drake Martin is announced and he makes it to the center of the field with Kayla—a cheerleader who is one of Scottie’s best friends—I look to my right and hold out my hand for the captain of the cheerleading squad.
But when I meet familiar blue eyes, I have to blink several times to try to make the fucking mirage disappear.
It doesn’t work, though.
Instead, Lexi is still there, dressed in a Dragons’ cheerleader uniform with a shy but adorable smile on her lips. Her mouth is painted red just like the rest of the squad normally sports on game days, and her blond hair is in this high ponytail with a big gold bow at the top.
What the fuck is happening right now?
“Hi, Blake,” she says, and I just stare at her, my voice mute and my eyes practically wider than my face. “Mind escorting me out onto the field?” she asks, tucking her arm into my still-outstretched one.
If it weren’t for a chick with a headset and wild eyes waving me toward the center of the field, I don’t know if I’d even move.
But somehow, I do. Though, my legs feel like they’re made of a terrible combination of lead and wood. Each step I take is stiff and heavy.
And by the time we make it to the center of the field, the entire stadium is on their feet, clapping their hands with excitement as the announcer encourages their applause. But my eyes are now fixated on Lexi’s face. At first, she’s looking out toward the crowd, but eventually, she locks her gaze with mine.
“What is going on right now?” I whisper toward her. “Am I dreaming, or are you really dressed in a Dragons’ cheerleader uniform?”
“No, Blake, you’re not dreaming.” She smiles. Shakes her head. “I am, in fact, wearing a cheerleader uniform.”
“H-how? Why?”
“It was a combination of help from Scottie and a Double C invite to McKenzie.”
“McKenzie?”
“The captain of the squad,” she explains with a shrug.
“Okay…” I blink several times, my brain trying to process this insane situation. “But why are you here?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” she asks, but just before I can tell her, no, it’s not fucking obvious, the announcer tells the crowd to quiet down for the national anthem.
Some chick with auburn hair steps up to the microphone that sits right in front of us and starts to give her best Whitney Houston impression of our country’s most famous song.
She’s good, truthfully, but all I care about right now is trying to understand why Lexi is even here.
“Lexi,” I whisper toward her, and she meets my eyes again. “Seriously. What is going on?”
“Oh, you mean you want to know why I’m here?”
I nod. “That’d be nice.”
She searches my eyes for a long moment before averting them completely to stare at her feet. And the chick at the microphone is halfway through the song before Lexi locks her gaze with mine again, a hard swallow making her throat vibrate at her neck. “Blake, I’m sorry for everything,” she whispers. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you. I’m sorry for hurting you. And mostly, I’m sorry that I was so scared to let myself feel what you make me feel that I chose to destroy us instead of face my feelings for you head on.”
She pauses and digs her teeth into her bottom lip, and I just stand there, her arm still tucked within mine.
“I love you,” she says, but it’s so quiet, and the girl singing the national anthem is starting to really bring it home, hitting some seriously high notes, that I almost think my ears make it up entirely. But then, she says it again, this time turning her body toward mine and grabbing both of my hands into hers. “Blake, I love you. And I know I was slow on the uptake in letting myself realize that, but in my defense, I’ve never been good at emotional stuff. It’s a serious weak point for me and, clearly, a learning curve. This whole summer, I tried to convince myself that you and I were just playing games, just having fun. But in the end, it wasn’t a game at all to me because I fell in love with you. I am in love with you. And I’m here, standing in the middle of this packed stadium, wearing a freaking cheerleader uniform, because I wanted to show you that I’m ready to be together. Out in the open. No secrets anymore.”
“You want to be with me?” I ask her, my gaze searching hers for any sign of fear or hesitancy or doubt, but all I see are determination and confidence and her heart.
“I want to be with you. More than anything. Because I love you.”
“I love you too,” I tell her just as the national anthem comes to a close, and the crowd claps their hands reverently. But I hardly notice any of it because the girl of my dreams is standing in front of me and she’s saying words I only dreamed of hearing her say.
Words I thought I’d never hear her say.
She loves me. She wants to be with me.
I don’t hesitate. I don’t hold back. And between one breath and the next, I pull Lexi into my arms, lift her up so that we’re face-to-face, and kiss her.
I fucking kiss her.
She tastes like everything I remembered. She tastes like love. She tastes like mine.
She kisses me right back, wrapping her hands around my neck as she melds her mouth with mine. But our kiss is cut a little short when the sounds of the crowd booming with applause and cheers and wolf whistles start to echo inside my ears.
I pull back, and when I see Lexi’s eyes move to the jumbotron to the right of us, I follow their lead and find out that we’re currently the center of attention.
“Oh my God,” Lexi mutters through a half giggle, half groan.
“Too much?” I ask, smiling at her. “I mean, you said you wanted to be out in the open, so…”
Her giggle turns into an outright laugh. “No, Blake. It’s not too much. But it’s certainly something I’m going to have to get used to, huh? Dating the star quarterback and all that.”
It’s my turn to laugh. But I cut off my own laughter by kissing her again.
But she only lets me do it for a few seconds before she pulls away with a big smile.
“I love you, Blake,” she says and climbs out of my arms and back to her feet. “But now, it’s time for you to get your head in the game.” She reaches up to pull my helmet the rest of the way down my head, and she grips the face mask with her petite hand. “And if you win, you can spend the night at my place.”
“And if I lose?”
“You won’t lose.”
“You’re right.” I wink. “I won’t.”
There’s not a chance in the world I’m walking away from this game with anything but a win and my Lexi on my arm.