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She’s sitting in the family and friend’s section, her yellow hat sticking out in the mostly black and gold attire. Her hair’s been thinning out, and although she refused to talk about it, I knew she hated every second of it.
Shaking my head, I shift my attention back to the field, coming to a stop in my spot. Nixon and I exchange a quick glance before we get into place. Both teams are even, meaning everything’s on the line.
And I mean everything.
There was enough time for the game to go both ways, and we all knew it.
I face the guy opposite me, the fire burning in his eyes as he cracks his neck and crouches down in front of me. I narrow my eyes at him, every muscle in my body tense to the point of bursting.
Nixon calls out the play, and the lines crash in a series of grunts and curses. I try to break through the defense, but they know I’m Nixon’s go-to guy, so they’re guarding me better than Fort Knox.
The game is brutal, with neither of the teams budging. Every yard won is a war in its own right.
In the third play, I finally find a hole in their defense and win us twenty yards before I’m tackled to the ground.
I shove the guy that’s on me away, spitting to the ground as my gaze goes to the clock.
One minute, thirty-eight seconds.
We move the line, getting in position. I don’t dare meet the gazes of any of my teammates, knowing we’re running out of time.
We’re playing to win. They’re playing for more time.
And that can’t happen.
The buzzing in my ears starts to grow louder, dulling the sound of Nixon’s words. But I don’t need to hear them. I know them by heart.
I pretend to go right as offense and defense crash together. Then I shift left, shoving through the mass of bodies.
Gritting my teeth, I grip the ball tighter to my chest and run for all that I’m worth. The roar of the crowd matches the pounding of the blood echoing in my ears as I push myself to my breaking point. I can feel the defense running after me, the distance between us lowering with every yard I cross.
I don’t dare look back.
Just forward.
Toward the end zone.
Toward the win.
The guy behind me grunts, and I know he’s there, just a few inches away, but so is the end zone.
So I brace myself as I extend my hand and leap forward.
It’s like all the air is sucked out of space, the voices falling back. Or maybe everything just stopped for a moment. I know my heart did as my body crashed into the ground, another one falling on top of me and kicking all the air out of my lungs.
Groaning, I tighten my grip on the ball as I look up, my heart stuck in my chest.
I blink, my vision slightly blurry from the pain, so it takes me a moment to realize the ball is across the white line, in the end zone.
But even if I didn’t, the roar of the crowd would be a dead giveaway.
We won.
* * *
“Dude,”Scotty slaps me on the back, laughing. “We’re going to Moore’s to celebrate. You coming?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there in a bit,” I say, barely lifting my head.
