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In unison, they shout, “TIMBER!”
I whip my head around and catch one of the women giving me a smug glare.
Nick gets up with the help of a few players and shakes his head a few times. Bizzy explains that’s his way of clearing his head. He gets back in the formation, only to throw the ball out of bounds on the next play. And the next one, too.
Miami’s forced to punt, which only fuels the assholes to start jeering.
New England has no luck, and the second Nick’s back on the field, the heckling starts again. I’ll give it to them; they’re ballsy, sitting in a sea of orange and teal. The three men of the group quiet down, but the women keep going.
“Sexy Six my ass! More like sloppy six!”
“How about pick six!”
I lose my cool and turn to find the woman standing behind me with a wicked gleam in her eye.
“What the hell is your problem?” I yell at her.
“What? Can’t take a little ribbing. Your quarterback is overrated and sloppy.”
The area around us goes silent. Bizzy growls loudly, taking the woman’s eyes from me to her.
“Do you two girls got a crush on the Bennett boy?” She glances at her friend who’s openly smirking.
“I’d watch it, lady. Sit back in your seat and keep your mouth shut. You don’t want to mess with this,” Claire advises her, moving her hand between us all.
She ignores the warning and drops her eyes to my shirt, looking between mine and Bizzy’s chests. “Isn’t that cute? You’re both wearing number six.” At this point, two of the men in their group step in and try to get the women to sit down. They refuse.
The game goes on behind us, but my focus is now on these two women. Alcohol fuels my courage, and I square my shoulders and stand tall, full of attitude. “It just so happens that I do have a crush on the Bennett boy. He’s my boyfriend. And this woman is actually a Bennett.”
She glares at us and then at her friend before fake-sneezing, calling ‘bullshit’, and tossing her full cup all over me. The stench of rum and coke fills my nose, and I scream.
Claire shoves me aside, shaking her beer and spraying it all over the two women.
There’s a round of screeching, and both women lunge down. A slap stings my face before I feel the excruciating pain in my scalp. Someone yanks my head forward, and I thrash out, meeting flesh. I can’t breathe as bodies crush me from each side and yelling commences. Bizzy gets me free but knocks one of the men, that’s trying to pull his friend free, in the mouth.
“You bitch!” I hear while flinging my fists out.
“Don’t call my friend a bitch!” My adrenaline skyrockets.
An all-out brawl is going on, and I keep hitting until I am ripped away, my feet no longer on the ground.
“Ma’am, stopping fighting me.” I twist into a body and notice he’s a police officer, and all the girls are in the same stronghold.
The crowd has gathered around, trying to help clear the area, but I sink into him. “She started it,” I say weakly, sounding like a dumbass.
I’ve never been in a fight before, ever. Logan and I may have wrestled a few times, but that’s it. Mortification sets in, and I hang my head as the officer places me on the ground and leads me away.
We are ushered down ramps and through what seems like a mile-long hallway before the officer sits me on a cold concrete bench. I finally look up and see Melanie, Bizzy, and Claire with me, each with their own police escort.
None of the men say anything before walking away and shutting the door.
We hear the women and men we fought arguing on the other side of the door.
I’m quiet, trying to process what the hell happened, and praying this is a bad dream. The silence is broken when Claire starts laughing. Bizzy and Melanie join her, and soon, I’m doing the same. Tears roll down our faces until I can’t breathe.
“That was phenomenal!” Claire fist punches the air.
“I can’t believe that happened.” Melanie holds her waist, wiping her eyes. “Now what do we do? Are they sending us to jail? Do we get to ride in a paddy wagon? I’ve always wanted to see the inside of one.”
