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“Aww, fuck,” I mumbled. “This must be heaven.”
* * *
As Pete and I walked into Dave's Bar and Grill, the change in atmosphere was like stepping from one world into another. The contrast between the privacy of Pete’s apartment and a raucous championship celebration couldn’t have been more stark.
"From zero to a hundred real quick," Pete murmured, smiling at me as we stepped over the threshold.
The crowd was a sea of Cougars jerseys and ecstatically happy faces, and they all erupted into cheers when they saw us. We were celebrities, at least the small-town version of it.
"Look who decided to grace us with their presence!" Jensen yelled over the noise. He was already ordering drinks for Pete and me.
"Wouldn't miss it for the world," I replied, grabbing my glass of Coke and handing a shot to Pete.
Waller sidled up to us. "Pete, taking a shot? You turning into a wild man or what?"
He chuckled. "Only for special occasions. To victory," he shouted, clinking his glass against mine.
"To us," I added, and we both drank. The whiskey made Pete’s face flush, and I gave him a quick kiss.
"Wait, wait, wait," called out Taylor, holding up his phone. "This needs to be documented. Champions selfie!"
We huddled together, making goofy faces as he snapped the pic.
The team had scattered throughout the bar, talking with fans, signing random pieces of memorabilia, and, in some cases, showing off the championship trophy to anyone who wanted an up-close look.
Shortly after we arrived, a highlight reel of the game appeared on the bar's big screen. We all relived the best moments, cheering for every goal as if it were happening in real time.
"We really did it," Pete said as he looked at the screen. He sounded like he still didn’t quite believe it.
"We absolutely did," I confirmed. “The Cold Pines Cougars are champions.”
As the night wore on, the crowd began to thin out. Players headed home, fans swallowed their last drinks of the night, and the staff started the long process of cleaning up. Still, triumph continued to hang in the air. We were winners, and that sensation wouldn’t dissipate soon.
Pete slid off his stool and grabbed his jacket. "You ready to call it a night?" he asked as he looked at me.
"Yeah," I said softly. "Let's head out. The night's still ours, isn't it?"
He chuckled as he pulled the jacket on. "After a win like this? I'd say the night, the year, hell—the whole damn future is ours."
Chapter20
Pete
Two days after the championship victory, we decided to stop by Stella’s for an afternoon coffee. It was the perfect pre-game for what was bound to be a gut-wrenching staff meeting. Hoss slid into the booth across from me, still engrossed in his phone. He was probably checking the latest stats or gossip about the Cougars.
"You know, they say phones at meals are bad manners," I teased, sipping my black coffee. The caffeine jolt hit my veins precisely the way I’d hoped.
Hoss looked up, his eyes narrowing with playful irritation. "Who's 'they?' Old-timers who still read newspapers?"
“Or those with a paper fetish.”
A chuckle escaped his lips as he put the phone away. "Alright, you win. So what's up?"
A server breezed by, refilling my cup without asking. Hoss opted for cream and sugar in his, the traitor. "It's a big day. I've got this...feeling like we're standing on the edge of something."
"Cliff or opportunity?" Hoss questioned, stirring his coffee until it resembled a weak latte.
"Could be either. I’ve got an idea I want to bring up at the meeting."
