“You can’t do this?—”
“I’m in charge. I can do whatever the hell I want. Hunt, get your ass on the field.”
“Yes, sir,” Deacon says, and the rest of us follow him out.
The second half goes better than the first. Deacon and I find a rhythm Holt and I never could, and we race down the field, passing the ball back and forth to one another as we near the goal. The crowd’s anticipation hangs heavy in the air, a pulsating energy that feeds our determination. We need a score.
As we get closer to CPU’s penalty area, I feel their defenders closing in. The tension is palpable, but it’s as if Deacon and I share an unspoken connection. We’ve spent countless hours on the field this past week and more in our backyard practicing together, going over plays. Living in the same house has always made Felix, Julio, and I more in sync with one another, and it looks like the same can be said with Deacon.
With a deft flick of his cleats, Deacon sends the ball back to me just as a CPU defender lunges in. I control it with agraceful touch and, without a second thought, pass it right back to Deacon. His eyes lock onto mine, and I see the glint of determination mirrored in them. We’ve got this. Right here, this is our moment to shine.
We’re in perfect sync, two hearts beating as one on the pitch. The ball is stolen, but Hunt quickly recovers it and passes it back to me.
There’s no hesitation. I strike the ball with a powerhouse outside kick and it soars toward the goal. Not anticipating the move, CPU’s goalkeeper comes up short on his dive.
Time seems to slow as the ball finds the back of the net, and the crowd erupts with a deafening roar. The stands tremble with the collective joy of our fans, and my teammates rush me, Deacon damn near taking me off my feet in his excitement.
“Fuck, yes!”
A wide smile splits my face, and I fist-pump the air.
“Again!” I shout, and we all get back into position.
We score once more, bringing the score up from three to one to three to three. There are only six minutes left in the game, and it’s our turn at the kickoff. None of us wants a draw against CPU again.
The pressure is on, but we’re all determined to win this.
With every one of my heartbeats, I can feel the adrenaline surging through my veins. We have one last chance to claim victory. To take home the win. My gaze flicks toward the stands, spotting Cecilia. She’s leaning forward, hands clasped together on her knees.
Does she feel it too? The energy that crackles in the air. Fuck. It’s invigorating.
As the referee blows the whistle to restart the game, Deacon and I exchange a determined look and I signal him with my hand.
One-two. Just like we practiced.
The ball is in play, and we move forward as a team, pushing it relentlessly toward CPU’s goal. The clock is ticking, and our fans are on the edge of their seats. Voices screaming through the air.
We navigate through the opposition’s defense with precision passes, taking turns to run further down the field. Each sprint stretches longer and longer. We’re almost there.
With just seconds left on the clock, I find myself with the ball at my feet, right on the edge of the penalty area. The defenders close in, but I see a gap, a small window of opportunity to take the shot.
I take a deep breath. This is it. The crowd falls into a hushed silence. It’s like they can feel it too. Letting instinct take over, I unleash a perfectly placed shot towards the far corner of the goal.
The ball sails through the air, and it’s a race against time. The CPU goalkeeper stretches to his limits, diving for the edge but he’s a fraction of a second too late.
The ball kisses the back of the net, and the stadium erupts with a thunderous roar.
We did it! We scored with only seconds to spare. Fuck. “We won!” Julio grabs onto my shoulders. “We fucking won!”
“Fuck yeah, we did!”
My teammates rush to congratulate me, and I don’t bother fighting the smile on my face. My eyes go back to Cecilia and pride washes over me when I find her on her feet, cheering on our win. I want to go to her. To lift her in my arms and taste her on my lips.
It’s the adrenaline talking, but fuck that would be the cherry on top of today’s victory.
Instead, I grab my things from our bench and sprint with the guys back toward the locker room, only to come up short when Felix elbows me in the side. “Do you see what I see?” he asks.
I follow his line of sight to find Holt looming over a girl on the far wall, almost but not entirely hidden from view.
