Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
WYATT
The next home game for the Moons is on a Saturday in early May, and the place feels packed.
That’s probably because the entire Hurricanes team is here, including the sixteen-man practice squad.
I didn’t give anyone the option to refuse.
I told them they could bring anyone they wanted, but they had to be here tonight.
There’s about eighty of us here, give or take. We absolutely overwhelmed the concessions before finding our seats. I stand in the middle handing out noisemakers to anyone who will take one while the teams warm up below.
I hand a water bottle full of little rocks to a rookie. “I want this section to make so much noise it sounds like the entire arena is full.”
He nods and takes another from me to hand to the girl he brought. I look at her, realize I’m probably being rude, and mutter, “Nice to meet you. Welcome to the Hurricanes.” Then I amble off to the next group to see who I can entice with some hand clappers on a stick.
I have to pull my shirt away from my chest again. Chrissy assured us the paint we used was body safe, but it itches like a son of a gun. I can’t wait to have the cool air flowing across my heated skin.
Finally, the announcer starts talking and lets the crowd know it’s time for the national anthem. “Please rise if you are able and remove your caps for the singing of the national anthem by Claire Young.”
We all rise, and as a group we are pretty intimidating. I wonder if we are moving the needle in favor of the Moons with our sheer size. A young lady steps out to sing the national anthem and we cheer politely when she’s done.
Here we go.
“The starters for your home team, the Houston Moons,” bellows the announcer.
I gesture at all the guys around me to get up. Nash is probably so focused on the game she hasn’t even noticed all of us up here in the Moons colors.
She’s fucking about to, though.
When he starts calling the names of the players, our chunk of the crowd goes wild with the noise makers we brought. I see some of the other team physically flinch. Each starting player has a palm-sized volleyball they throw into the crowd, and they all come our direction.
“Starting at outside hitter from the University of Wisconsin, at six-feet, one-inch tall…”
I look at Jaden, Colin, Noah, and Mack. “Now!”
We all whip off our shirts just as Nash’s name is called. “Nashville Green!”
I scream until my lungs are burning, spinning my noise maker in the air.
“Let’s fucking go, Nash!” Jaden hollers from my right.
Nash steps up to throw her swag and looks right at me. We are front and center, and she whips it at me. It hits me in the chest, and I juggle my arms trying to secure it. She twirls her pointer finger around, a laugh glossing her lips.
I look at Colin in confusion. “What’s she saying?”
Audrey turns around below us and barks a laugh. “You’re out of order, idiots.”
Chrissy turns at the sound of Audrey’s laugh and puts a hand over her mouth. “Wyatt and Noah, switch places.”
I look at Noah with a navy-blue O on his chest and realize we’ve been spelling MONOS. “Ope, lemme scooch right past ya there.”
Once we’re in the right order, Nash gives us a thumbs up. She turns to face her team, greeting the next player called. When Temi’s name is called, I elbow Jaden, and when she whips her little ball at him, I whoop a laugh. Seems like his persistence is paying off.
I hope mine will pay off, too.