Chapter Fourteen
Taylor
Chase drops us off at Caesars Superdome a few hours later so we can check out some of the gameday attractions prior to kickoff. We visit the AFC and NFC Championship Trophies, NFL Shop, and get our picture taken with the Vince Lombardi Trophy.
“Just wait till you’re wearing an NBA championship ring,” I say when we check out the Super Bowl rings.
“That’s if I get drafted by a championship team.”
I snort. “You’ll make any team into a championship team—you did at MSU.”
I’m not entirely sure, but I swear Todd’s cheeks redden as we find our seats.
The game is intense from the coin toss—one minute we’re high-fiving, the next we’re clutching our heads in disbelief.
By the time halftime rolls around, the Chiefs are trailing 24–17.
“They’re still in it!” Todd yells, trying to be heard over the roar of fans and the thumping bass of the halftime show setting up.
I nod. “They just need one good drive and a turnover!”
“I’m thirsty. You want to share a soda with me?” he asks as we sit, having been on our feet for most of the first half.
“Sure.” I dig into my pocket for some money, but he grabs my wrist.
“I got it.”
I watch him bound down the stairs toward the refreshment area, his broad back making him easy to track amid the chaos, and a smile tugs at my lips until I realize I’m not the only one staring.
For someone who spent his childhood riding the bench, he’s evolved into a magnet.
Still, I can’t help but admire the way his brown hair curls at the nape of his neck and when he looks back before disappearing into the tunnel, my stomach flutters at the thought that he only has eyes for me.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I try to focus on the Jumbotron, which is playing highlight reels, or the crew on the field, hustling to build the stage. But instead I keep replaying the look Todd shot back at me—steady, searching, almost shy.
A shiver runs down my spine, drawing me from my thoughts, and I look up in time to see him walking back up the aisle, just as the show starts.
My mouth waters when I see what he’s carrying: nachos—the loaded kind that has an avalanche of cheese, pulled brisket, jalapenos, sour cream, and scallions.
He’s also managed to snag a commemorative Super Bowl cup, the kind you keep long after the soda’s gone and stash in the back of your cupboard for the rest of your life.
“Oh God, how’d you know I’d want nachos?” I ask, eating two chips at a time.
He laughs and hands me the soda so I can wash it all down. “Because I know you.”
We dance and sing along to the music, caught up in the nostalgia, then as the lights are raised, the Jumbotron starts showing couples on the kiss cam. I’m only halfway watching, finishing off the nachos. Todd silently offers me the soda after taking a sip and I accept it, gulping some down.
“Hey, it’s you guys!”
I look at the screen with the straw still hanging out of my mouth and see that the man behind us is right—Todd and I are on the kiss cam.
My eyes widen as my gaze shifts to him, and he returns my hesitant glance. Seconds stretch as the crowd starts cheering for us to kiss, and then all of a sudden his lips are on mine.
It feels as though time stops—the roar of the crowd turns into a gentle hum, and we are the only two people in a stadium fit for 83,000. He tastes sweet and salty, like the soda and nachos, and it makes my skin tingle.
And then it’s over, just as quickly as it began.
We’re not given any time to dwell on it, diving back in as the second half kicks off.
The Chiefs waste no time—Mahoney connects with Kelson for a quick score to tie it up.
From there, it’s a battle. The Eagles respond with a field goal.
Then the Chiefs push back into the red zone.
Back and forth it’s a tug-of-war—penalties, timeouts, every play stretching the clock and the nerves.
Then, with just under a minute and one timeout left, the Chiefs get the ball at their own 35-yard line.
“They can do this,” I whisper, gripping Todd’s arm as the stadium reaches a crescendo.
That’s when it happens. Mahoney drops back, evades a sack, and throws deep. The pass spirals through the air and lands perfectly in the hands of a rookie wide receiver just inside the end zone.
Touchdown!
Chiefs win the Super Bowl!
The stadium erupts. Red and gold confetti explodes into the sky. People are screaming, crying, and hugging total strangers. I’m jumping up and down with Todd, both of us shouting at the top of our lungs.
“You want to make a break for it while everyone is still celebrating?” Todd suddenly asks, his breath warm against my ear.
I nod quickly, unable to form words, and he takes my hand. His height makes him easy to spot in a crowd, so I’m not concerned with losing him, but I still grip his hand tightly as we weave through the throng of people.
“So how long have you been planning this?” I ask once we make it outside.
“Since I opened the envelope that held the tickets.”
“That game was something—thank you for sharing it with me.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
A subtle shift hangs between us—something unspoken that makes me acutely aware of his presence beside me. Maybe it’s his tone or perhaps it’s because our hands are still intertwined that makes it feel different right now.
He bumps me gently out of my thoughts. “What?”
“Oh, nothing, just thinking,” I reply quickly, realizing we’ve stopped mid-step. An odd flutter stirs in my stomach that refuses to settle.
His gaze cuts toward me, eyes sparkling. “About what?”
“Stuff.”
We start walking again, the noise of the crowd fading as we move farther from the stadium. The excitement of the game lingers in the air, but suddenly I notice that my hand, which had felt warm in Todd’s grasp, is now cold. I look down to find that he has let go, just as Chase pulls up.