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Just watching him warm up on the field had my body purring. He was definitely getting laid tonight.
I got used to sharing a bed with him for nearly two weeks straight. When it came time for the mandatory team hotel stay the night before a game, it sucked balls.
“Alright, ladies,” I said, calling my group to attention. We were minutes from kick-off.
Priyanka looked over my shoulder and giggled. “Wren.”
“Huh?” I turned around.
Tatum was running toward me, helmet in hand. The stadium took notice.
“What are you—”
His lips were on mine as he dropped his helmet at my feet. Hands caressing my neck as he kissed me in front of eighty thousand fans.
I melted. The girls were going to have to scoop me off the turf with a shovel, and I didn’t care. I looped my arms around his neck and kissed him back. It was fervent, completely inappropriate, and so worth it.
“What was that for?” I laughed as he pulled away.
Tatum gave me a peck on the forehead. “For luck.”
“You’re gonna get fined for that,” I whispered. “That kiss is probably going to cost you at least one Civic.”
He smirked. “Worth it.”
“Good luck, Tay.”
“You too, Little Bird.” He grabbed his helmet and slid it on.
I fastened the chin strap for him and double-checked it. Cameras must have been pointed at us, because the stands let out a collective awww!
“Hey,” he said, just loud enough for me to hear. “When you’re dancing at halftime, look at Section120. Row19.”
And with that, he was off.
The Red Cocks were crushing Indiana by halftime. It was a bloodbath. The boys were grinning from ear-to-ear as they barreled down the tunnel to head back to their locker room. Instead of our standard covert pinky promise, Tatum kissed me as he passed and winked.
I didn’t think anything of it until I was standing on the fifty-yard line, anticipating the first eight-count of our halftime routine. I looked up into the stands.
Section120 was smack dab in the middle of the home team’s side. Row19 had the best seats in the house.
Sitting in the exact spot Tatum had pointed out, was my dad. He was bundled up in Reds gear and had a thermos of what was probably Irish coffee to ward off the chill. A bouquet of flowers sat on the empty seat beside him. Red roses—my mom’s favorite. My dad dabbed his eyes with a tissue and waved, smiling proudly.
It was the last time I would dance to AC/DC in that stadium. The last time I would leap into the air and land into a split. Four minutes stood between me and the beginning of forever.
There was something peculiar about looking at a racing clock, knowing that when the numbers end at zero, everything will change. It’s a luxury that most people will never have.
My mom didn’t know that her last breath was coming. Instead, she lived without fear of the future.
Change is the only constant in life. It feels valiant and noble to fight it until you realize that eventually the dissatisfaction you feel with your current state will hurt far more than the discomfort of change.
For four minutes, I danced without fear. I danced in the security that came with the knowledge that regardless of what the future held, I would face it with someone I loved deeply and eternally by my side.
Tears slid down my cheeks as I held our final pose and waved at the crowd. My dad jumped to his feet. I couldn’t hear him, but I could see him pointing. I could read his lips beneath his caterpillar mustache. Pride radiated from him as he clapped and held out a double thumbs up.
That’s my girl. That’s my Wren.
There was no sadness in his eyes. He was back at his favorite place, watching his team with his angel marked by a bouquet of roses beside him.
