Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 155798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 779(@200wpm)___ 623(@250wpm)___ 519(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 779(@200wpm)___ 623(@250wpm)___ 519(@300wpm)
Brett hadn’t mentioned the use of a private box.
I turned it down, to Lo’s chagrin. It was for the best. Being in a box would’ve put more of a spotlight on me. Camera lenses would and did go there. I’d asked if Brett’s family could use it instead of us, which quieted some of Lo’s drunken whines.
Pun intended, which cracked Lo up so all was good.
Besides Roger’s motivational speech, I wasn’t concerned about being recognized in the stands. My outfit was excellent camouflage. Leggings. Ballcap pulled low over my forehead. Sunglasses. My hair was in a braid. Kings jersey. I’d wanted to wear Brett’s jersey, but wondered if that was pushing my luck. But man, oh man, I was excited for when I could wear his jersey. As a football geek, I was salivating over the chance. Until then, I’d make do with sleeping in it, which I had last night.
Roger was the one wearing Brett’s jersey. (His own. Not the one I slept in. I’d never surrender that to Beer Roger.)
“Let’s go!” Lo surged to her feet, her new beer in hand, and her Kings foam finger in the air. “Come on, Doubard. Make some magic happen.”
We were in the third quarter. Orcas now led seventeen to fourteen. Our offense was having a hard time getting yardage. The Orcas’ defense was one of the best, which showed that their shocking rookie franchise trip to the Super Bowl was not a fluke.
The Kings were mostly running the ball. Their running backs were getting pounded, but they were inching the ball forward. We’d just gotten another first down.
“Doubard hasn’t been able to connect to Reeves all night.” Travis groaned.
“I know.” I shook my head.
They snapped the ball. Lo started laughing as Doubard tried throwing again, but no one was open.
He went out of the pocket, and I shot to my feet, holding my breath because he was scrambling.
Combs, the Orcas’ defensive end who was a nightmare, Brett’s counterpart, went right at him. No one blocked him.
I was screaming, my beer long forgotten.
Doubard kept running, twisting, and—
“He’s going for it!” Travis was up, yelling next to me.
I could breathe again.
The ball was passed to Foreman, and he got three yards.
These plays gave me heart palpitations. All the crushing and roughness until a play worked and then a magical opening appeared, and boom. The running back broke free and ran for it. I loved those plays.
We were on our third down and only gained two more yards. If they didn’t make something happen with the next play…
Doubard got the snap, fell back, and launched it.
I was yelling. Travis was yelling.
It was gorgeous to watch, a perfect throw dropping to his chest like a baby to cradle. The defensive back assigned to him was behind by three yards. Stone had him. The guy wouldn’t be able to catch him.
Thirty.
Twenty-five.
Twenty.
Fifteen.
Ten.
Five.
Touchdown!
The Kings fans in the stadium erupted.
Roger cried out, “Oh hell yeah!” and launched himself at us.
“Dude.” Travis moved in, grabbing Roger and hauling him off us.
Lo was laughing, tears in her eyes, and she had to hold on to me. “I’m so sorry about my husband.”
Travis was irritated, but catching our reactions, he shook off the anger.
It was almost mesmerizing to see how he could discard one façade and pull on a new one. Like discarding a shirt and pulling on a new one. So easy. He puffed out his chest, shaking his head, and took hold of Roger’s shoulder. “Let’s not cause any injuries here. Maybe stop fucking your wife’s foam finger with your foam finger. We’re trying not to attract attention, remember.”
Roger laughed it off.
I glanced in Travis’ direction, still grinning, but spying his face, that faded.
He was pissed.
A darkness flashed briefly as he shook it off, a grin flashing to me. I was startled. It hadn’t been the first time I witnessed that from him. There was something underneath his cop exterior, and my gut twisted together.
I frowned, seeing him through a new lens.
I rewound through my interactions with him.
He was fine. Protective. Pissed when Brett had crashed our two dates, but the second one… I hadn’t looked closely enough. Thinking back, remembering how he’d looked when he came outside and saw us, I now could remember darkness there too.
I’d been too caught up in Brett.
A bad feeling took root in my core. I wasn’t able to shake it.
I wanted to, as Travis now turned back to the game, cheering as we got the extra point. Then we sat down while the teams switched.
This was my favorite part now, not my favorite part before I started boinking Brett. Before boinkage happened, that’d been when our offense was on the field.
Post boinkage, it was now.
Brett was coming out.
Travis checked his phone, reading a text, then leaned my way. “A buddy said the announcers keep talking about Broudou, how he’s dominating the game.”