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I make my way towards her, trying not to shove everyone in my way as I walk over. My gaze is locked on her profile, unable to look away as she grins at the camera and speaks. As I approach Willow, I hear her saying over the roar of the stadium, “. . . and no surprise that the Rebels are taking home the trophy this year, and are our Super Bowl champions.”
A grin curls at my mouth as I listen to her. It’s been months since we got together and stopped hiding our relationship and, as both of us had expected, the public had a lot to say about it. At first, it seemed to bother Willow a little, which isn’t surprising. I can’t ever blame her for being hurt over some of the shit people say. But as time went on and she continued with her job—which she got to keep because the channel realized how good she is at her job, as they should—the comments about our relationship had died down. She focused on her job, I focused on mine, and when we were together, nothing else mattered.
Social media, though, likes to have a field day any time she interviews me. Comments about how I smile more with her, how our eyes never leave each other—I don’t mind any of that. I want the world to know how much she means to me, how she’s mine and I’m hers.
Noticing me from the corner of her eye, Willow looks over at me and grins, a sly glint appearing in her eyes as she says to the camera, “And it looks like we have the MVP of the game just itching to join us—Reed Maxwell.”
I roll my eyes with a grin and step into the camera shot willingly—which I only ever do for her. I give the camera a nod and Willow says, “You just won the Super Bowl—how do you plan on celebrating?”
My smile turns into a smirk, tilting my head at her as I say, “Figured I’d take you out to dinner. How does that sound?”
Willow’s eyes widen and pink instantly flushes her cheeks, trying to suppress her grin by pressing her lips together. Neither of us have been this bold on camera, choosing to keep things professional, but I figured this occasion could be an exception. Judging by the light dancing in her eyes and her smile, Willow doesn’t mind. And I’m sure this will do wonders for the ratings of the channel, so her bosses probably won’t mind, either.
A breathless sort of laugh escapes Willow as she nods, gripping the microphone tightly. “I think that’s a great way to celebrate,” she says knowingly. With a shake of her head, she looks at the camera and grins, “And with that—we’ll be right back.”
It’s a signal for Michael to cut the camera, and he does so immediately. Laughing, Willow looks up at me with a grin and bright eyes. “Hi there, champ,” she greets, stepping close to me. Her free hand rests on my chest, tilting her head up. “Congratulations, baby.”
I dip my head towards her, deaf and blind to my surroundings and only focused on her. “Thank you,” I murmur before pressing my mouth to hers in a kiss I’ve been craving. The adrenaline from winning still courses through my veins, but it’s only intensified when Willow returns the kiss just as eagerly.
“You were incredible out there,” she mumbles against my lips. “And Ican’t waitto celebrate with you.”
Fuck, it’s all I want. Fuck the post-game interviews and photo ops and everything else—all I want is to take my girl home and not leave my bed until the morning. She’s been my sanity throughout these last few months as the pressure of the game mounted; the more games we won, the closer we got to playing the Super Bowl, and that came with a kind of stress of its own.
But Willow was there for me, every step of the way. Relaxing me, distracting me—lovingme. My saving fucking grace.
I pull away and cup her cheeks, eyes locking with hers. She smiles up at me with a look of pure adoration, her green eyes glistening with proud tears and her dimples showing off for me. My chest is tight with emotion—none of which have to do with winning the biggest game of my life—and with a pounding heart, I confess my truth. “I love you.”
Willow’s lips part with a shaking inhale, staring up at me as tears well in her eyes. I smile, soft and true, as her grip on my jersey tightens and she chokes out, “I love you, too.”
I drop my forehead to hers, her eyes falling shut briefly, and I confess another truth. “And I’m gonna marry you someday.”
Willow’s eyes fly open, shocked and disbelieving with her mouth dropping open as well. I merely grin at her as she squeaks below the noise of the stadium, “Did you just propose to me?”
My grin widens, chuckling as I hold her close. “Not yet,” I tell her. “Just telling you that I will. Because you’re it for me, baby.”
A tear rolls down her cheek and I rub it away with my thumb, and a watery laugh escapes her as she says, “You’re it for me, too.” She kisses me chastely. “And when you propose to me, one day, I’ll be saying yes.”
“Good,” I grin, my heart thundering in a way that it only does for her. “You and me, Willow.”
Her lips are on mine, her kiss deep and long and savoring, making my blood pump. “You and me.”
The end.
