30 | Georgia
THE CHEERS OF thousands of TU Titans fans ring in my ears as I step onto Mason Field, clad in Henry’s oversized Jersey.
The sun blazes in the sky, casting an intense light over the bright green turf. I bring my hand to my brow, shielding my eyes, and scan across the length of the sideline in search of Henry.
“Hey – Georgia, right?” An unfamiliar voice rasps from behind me.
I recognize him – though I don’t know him. As he blocks the sunlight with his towering frame, I realize he’s the same boy that Henry ran into on campus a few weeks back. The same boy I saw dancing with Natalia Bryer. The same boy that almost killed Henry when he accidentally ran into him.
The wide receiver. God, what's his name, again?
“I’m Todd, Todd Watson. We haven’t met.” He smiles at me, his dark brown hair falling into his eyes. He’s handsome – the same height as Henry, with a chiseled jawline and eyes the color of milk chocolate. His hair hangs in loose curls around his face, damp from sweat, and his sculpted cheeks are flushed pink in the heat.
“Oh, hi,” I mutter as he takes a step closer to me and quickly glances over my outfit.
“I see you’ve got Anderson’s jersey on. Did he give you that?”
“Um, yeah. He did.”
“Damn,” Todd grunts, clicking his tongue and smirking lazily. “You’re like the 5th one I’ve seen. He’s on a roll.”
I whip my head to face him, my ears instantly reddening.
“What? What do you mean?”
Todd points above us to the first row of screaming fans, filled to the brim with beautiful, blonde sorority girls. The number “83” can be seen plastered across the chests of nearly all of them, and my heart immediately sinks.
“Jersey chasers,” Todd mutters, scowling. “I’ve never been into it. But to each their own. It was nice meeting you, Georgia.”
He smiles at me, placing a toothpick in his mouth and flipping it with his tongue lazily. He’s only a few steps away when he pauses, turning around to face me.
“For the record… if that were my jersey, you’d be the only one wearing it.”
He winks as he places his helmet over his head, then joins the Titans on the field without another word.
Um. What just happened?
The roar of the cheering fans deafens me as our team scores their first touchdown, still with no sign of Henry. In a daze, I find a seat a few feet back from the sideline and collapse my weight into it. I look down at my jersey, which now feels scratchy and cumbersome, and immediately become consumed by embarrassment.
How could I think Henry actually likes me? I must be the dumbest–
“Georgia, I’m so sorry I’m late.” Henry runs up to me, his gear disheveled and face burning red from the heat.
My heart practically stops the moment I see him. He’s holding his helmet and jersey in one hand, his shoulder pads knocked off kilter and undershirt exposed. Soft tendrils of chestnut hair fall across his forehead as he squints from the blinding sunlight. He’s a few feet away from me, but I can still see a glimmer in his eye the second he looks at me.
“Is everything okay?” I ask hastily, momentarily forgetting the gaggle of sorority girls dressed in his number and screaming his name from the stands.
“Yes. Well, um, my mom’s here. Long story.” He stops, noticing Coach Bryer gesturing at him maniacally and yelling for him to get on the field. “I’m sorry, I have to get out there…”
He pulls his jersey over his head, straightening his gear and positioning his helmet. Running to the field on Coach’s orders, he suddenly pauses.
“You look perfect in that!” he calls from the sideline, pointing at my jersey.
So does every other girl in this stadium.
Henry joins the rest of the Titans, causing the crowd to immediately erupt in thunderous cheers at the sight of him. He waves to the fans quickly before taking his place in the lineup of players.
“We’ve got number 83 taking the field, Texas University’s star quarterback and captain, Henry Anderson. He takes the ball and passes it to receiver Todd Watson – they make it to the 30-yard line! First down!”
The booming voice of the announcer echoes across Mason Field, heightened by the clamorous rumble from the stands.
“Anderson hands the ball to running back Jonah McGee. He pushes past number 65, almost to the 20-yard line, and he’s down!”
The stadium is filled with rowdy booing as the Titans lose possession of the ball. The opposing team, the Alabama Reds, have long been Texas University’s biggest rivals. This game is the deciding factor on which team makes it to the playoffs – and who has a chance at the national championship. The tension is palpable as the teams line up for the next play.
“Reds have the ball. Alabama quarterback, number 87, passes – interception by Watson!”
The crowd explodes into applause as Todd carries the ball down the field, sprinting so fast he’s practically floating above the turf. Alabama’s cornerback is miles behind him as Todd passes over each painted line, the fans growing louder and wilder with every yard.
“Watson takes the ball past the 20-yard line, past 10… TOUCHDOWN, Titans!”
Coach Bryer punches the air in excitement, knocking his headset off balance, and the cheerleaders immediately begin their touchdown chant. Their maroon and white uniforms fill the massive screen atop the stadium and I notice, in the center of them all, Natalia Bryer.
She effortlessly kicks and jumps in perfect unison with her team, her red lips plastered into a perfect, white smile. Maroon glitter is painted across her cheeks, mimicking the eye black on the players, and her silky, chocolate hair hangs in flawless ringlets, bouncing as she cheers.
The woman looks like she’s been photoshopped… and Henry used to date her. God.
The cheerleaders finish their final chant, waving their poms wildly in the air towards the crowd as the Titans take their place on the field once again. I notice then, without meaning to, Natalia trailing behind the rest of the girls, her eyes scanning across the stadium.
What is she doing?
I follow her gaze, quickly realizing that she’s looking straight at Todd Watson as he rests along the sideline. Smirking at him softly, she nods in his direction before quickly filing out of the field after her team.
The heat dwindles as the sun begins to set on Mason Field, the chilly autumn air replacing the sweltering sunlight. I haven’t left my seat once as I watch Henry expertly throw the ball across the field, run it to the end zone, and defend the ball against the opposing team.
The game is nearly over by now, and the Alabama Reds are tied with the Texas University Titans for the game. The stands are still just as full as they were at the very start, the cheers never diminishing as the players fight for their spot in the playoffs. With only a few seconds left in the game, each team lines up for what could be the final play.
“The Titans take their place at the 20-yard line, receiver Todd Watson in position. Will he score another touchdown? Here we go! The clock is at 8 seconds as quarterback Henry Anderson throws – wait, Anderson doesn’t throw the ball!”
Titans fans burst into cheers as Henry pushes past the Alabama Reds’ defensive line single handedly.
“Anderson is rushing the ball towards the end zone – will he make it?! Running back Jonah McGee following close behind. He’s crossing the 20-yard line, the Reds right on his heels… TOUCHDOWN! Anderson scores! The Titans are going to the playoffs!”
Screaming fans jump over the barricades and onto the sidelines, saturating the field in maroon and white.
I grin as Jonah and another player grab the giant jug of sports drink and pour it over Coach Bryer’s head. The entire team surrounds their coach as he shakes off the bright blue liquid, jumping and yelling with their fists in the air in celebration. The screams of the crowd reverberate through Mason Field as news crews fly onto the field with their cameras and microphones. One reporter rushes directly up to Henry, her microphone pointed out towards him.
“Henry, how does it feel to know you brought the Titans to the playoffs?” the reporter inquires, her voice booming through the speakers of Mason Field.
Henry’s flushed face appears on the big screen above us, his infectious smile carving deep dimples into his cheeks.
“It wasn’t just me,” Henry starts, gesturing towards his team. “I couldn’t have done it without every person on that field!”
“I can’t believe we pulled it off,” Todd remarks as he approaches me confidently, his helmet held against his hip.
“I know! This is a big deal.”
His sculpted cheeks appear bright red as a wide grin spreads across his lips.
“You must be good luck,” he rasps, his amber eyes meeting mine.
“Tell us, Henry – how do you plan to prepare for the first playoff game?” The reporter’s voice rumbles through the stadium, distracting me from Todd’s comment.
The chaos of the interview is just a few yards away, with reporters from every direction yelling for Henry’s attention. He opens his mouth to respond when, without warning, a modelesque woman with perfect, chocolate-colored curls and plump red lips pushes past the reporters and jumps into his arms, wrapping her legs around his hips and grasping the back of his hair.
“I’m so proud of you, baby,” Natalia purrs quickly, her magnified voice echoing through the loudspeakers as she crushes her lips to his.
Anguish and betrayal etch across my face, my pulse quickening, and a wave of dizziness starts to overpower me. The roar of the fans seems to fade entirely as an unsettling silence envelopes my mind. Overwhelmed by tunnel vision, my eyes are solely fixated on Natalia wrapped in Henry’s arms, kissing him deeply.
He lied. He’s been with her the entire time. That’s who called him when I went over to his house. That’s who he whispered to from the kitchen, where I couldn’t hear.
Tears welling in my eyes, I push past the fans crowding the sideline, racing towards the exit tunnel.
“Georgia, wait!” Todd calls, chasing after me into the dark underpass.
I stop, defeatedly, my lungs depleted, and lean my weight against the wall of the passageway. The tears flow freely onto my cheeks, but I make no attempt to hold them back.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Todd whispers, delicately placing his hand on my arm. “Anderson is such a dick.”
I nod, choking back tears in the quiet corridor.
“Listen, Georgia – you’re too good for him.” Todd hesitates before wrapping his arms around me softly, pulling me into his chest. “You know, if you'll let me, I’d love to take you out. Only you.”
His expression is sweet and temperate as he lifts his thumb to my cheek and gently wipes away a stray tear.
“But–” I stutter out, tears blurring my vision. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough,” he assures. “Enough to realize that a girl like you deserves better treatment than what that sick fuck Anderson can give you. Let me take you out – you deserve to have fun.”
I hesitate, my breaths shallow.
“We can go just as friends, if you want. No funny business. Cross my heart.”
He smiles at me, his warm eyes glistening in the low light of the tunnel.
“I–” I stammer, uncertain of what to say.
You like Henry, Georgia. He’s the guy you want.
The image of Natalia wrapped around Henry’s body, her lips sealed to his in a moment of passion, abruptly floods my memory and stops my breath.
But he doesn’t want you.
“Yes… I’ll go out with you.”
“Attagirl.”