38. Winona #2
The parking lot smells of grilled burgers, onions, barbecue, and chili. Laughter and shouts mingle with music and the random fan yelling, “Let’s go, Thunder!” which elicits a response from anyone around: “Go, Thunder!”
We join our friends and meander through the parking lot, paying a vendor for hot dogs and taking in all the over-the-top football mania. When it’s just about an hour before game time, we walk toward the stadium where thousands of fans are lining up to get in.
We hand in our tickets, pass through the metal detectors and then we walk toward the entrance for our seats.
“Ground level?” I ask Cass.
“Row fifteen. Thirty-yard line.”
“Staaahhhp.” I shake my head. “What mafia boss got you these tickets? Cass, did you sell a kidney on the black market?”
“My spleen,” she says, looping her arm through mine and tugging me through the concrete entrance leading to the rows of seats. The field opens up. Players are scattered everywhere doing warmups. Rows of folding chairs extend down to the green turf that’s practically close enough to touch.
“This is awesome,” Patrick says.
“Right?” Daisy says.
Emberleigh's mouth pops open and Syd’s eyes go wide.
“We’re so close!” Syd says. “These seats are amazing.”
“Cass sold her spleen,” I say. “They’d better be.”
My friends all laugh.
I don’t know what they’re up to, but right now I’m not complaining.
My seat is only four in from the aisle. Cass sits on my right and Daisy is on my left.
I scan the men stretching, throwing and kicking their legs. My eyes land on Declan. His shock of black hair gives him away. But it’s more than that. The connection I’ve felt with him hasn’t diminished. I’m drawn to him like a needle on a compass.
I can practically see the brown and green flecks of his eyes from where we’re sitting.
He’s catching a pass, jumping with a short leap and landing with the ball in his hands.
Instinctively, I observe his ankle. Then I watch him move.
At first I’m making sure he’s not showing signs of pain.
But then, I just watch him—his grace and strength, the way he fills out his uniform, the smile he sends to Marcus when he tosses the ball back.
I wonder if anyone has been throwing balls into the net in Declan’s back yard since we were out there together. I close my eyes and breathe in a steadying breath, but all I feel is the ghosting of his hand over mine as I gripped the football, the way he leaned in so his chest was touching my back.
I blow out a breath and open my eyes.
“All good? Need a cup of cocoa?” Cass asks.
“Chocolate. Yes. That sounds good. Want me to come with you?”
“No. I’ve got it. You stay here. Watch warmups.”
By the time Cass comes back with nachos, popcorn, another hot dog to split and two cups of steaming hot cocoa, the team has run back into the locker room.
We tug the blanket Cass brought over our laps and divvy up the snacks.
Then the Packers come back onto the field with no fanfare. They fill their sideline.
Music starts to blare and the stands hum with a taut anticipation.
The announcer shouts, “Let’s hear it for your Tennessee Thunder!”
The team bursts out of the tunnel to smoke, lights, music, and videos streaming on the jumbotron. The crowd goes wild with cheers and stomping. I can’t even hear Cass when she leans over to say something right next to my ear.
Once the Thunder is at their sideline, a man steps up to the microphone on the platform in the middle of the field. The announcer’s voice booms through the stadium. “Ladies and gentlemen, please stand as Luke Bryan sings our National Anthem.”
Emberleigh leans over. “Luke Bryan!”
I smile back at her. We all stand. The Thunder players and the Packers stand, placing their hands over their hearts.
Luke Bryan sings a heartfelt, country-influenced version of the anthem, and then there’s a coin toss. The Thunder wins and they defer, so Green Bay has possession.
From that moment on, I’m on the edge of my seat, nervously popping popcorn into my mouth, sipping cocoa and never taking my eyes off the field.
We make it to halftime at a tie, fourteen each. I’ve watched Declan as much as I’ve watched the plays on the field. When he’s on the sidelines, my eyes drift in his direction.
No one has recognized me. Or, if they have, they haven’t said anything.
Now the players file off the field and the halftime show starts. It’s nothing like the show for the Super Bowl. Youth football players are recognized and a local high-school marching band performs.
I get up to use the restroom. The line is insane. Over sixty thousand people are here for the game, so I guess it’s a miracle we can get in and out as quickly as we do.
A woman in line catches my eye. “Are you Winona?”
My chest tightens, and I prepare myself for the worst.
“Yes. I’m Winona.”
“Awww. I’m sorry you and Declan O’Connell broke up. I thought you were cute together.”
“Thank you,” I say.
I don’t know what else to say to a total stranger.
“It was messed up how people came for you.”
Another woman overhears this stranger and chimes in. “People are horrible on the internet these days. Get a hobby, I say. Touch grass. Or maybe just practice the ancient art of minding your own beeswax.”
I laugh. “Everyone’s doing their best.”
I truly believe that. Maybe their best could use some improvement at times, but people aren’t usually aware of how their words can hurt someone. Or at least that’s what I choose to believe.
“You seem so sweet,” the second woman says.
By this time, half the line is listening in, but mostly trying to appear like they aren’t full-on eavesdropping.
“Declan’s sweet too,” I say, hoping the words help balance the narrative.
I’d hate for people to walk away thinking I’m sweet which means he has to be the bad guy. There’s only one bad guy in this scenario, and it’s the people who smeared my name without giving me a chance to prove myself.
“Nice meeting you,” stranger number one says to me as she ducks into the next open stall.
“You too,” I say.
The other woman just smiles at me. I get into a stall, then I wash my hands. By the time I’m back to my seat, the punt return has been completed and the Thunder is in a favorable field position.
I settle in on my Thunder seat pad and tug the blanket back over my lap, ready to cheer the Thunder on for the second half of the game.