“Listen up,” he barks. “Brighton's defense has been studying film all week. They know every play we've run this season.” He points to the whiteboard covered in X's and O's. “So we're going to give them something they haven't seen.”
He launches into the strategy—new formations, adjusted routes, changes to our pass protection. I try to focus, but part of my mind keeps drifting to the stands, wondering if she's out there, if Olivia convinced her, if she's okay.
“Evans!”
My head snaps up. “Yes, Coach?”
“I said, what's the hot route if you see Cover 2?”
“Slant to Mason, check down to the tight end if he's covered.”
“Good. Now get your head in the game.” His voice drops lower. “Winner goes to the championship. Everything we've worked for comes down to tonight.” He meets each of our eyes. “Now let's go show them what Hope football is all about.”
The energy explodes throughout the room. Guys start pounding their chests, shouting, getting themselves hyped. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
Block out everything else. Block out the doubt, the fear, the questions. Right now, there's only football.
I strap on my helmet and follow the team toward the tunnel. The sound of our cleats on concrete echoes off the walls, feeling like thunder as it vibrates through me.
The crowd's roar hits us before we even emerge. I can feel the vibration of seventy thousand people through the ground beneath me.
Steam hisses, smoke machines fire, confetti cannons explode as we burst through the tunnel. The lights are blinding, the noise deafening, but I keep my head down.
Don't acknowledge the crowd. Stay in your own head.
I jog toward the sidelines, my mind running through the first series of plays, when something makes me look up.
And that's when I see her.
Honey's in the student section, wearing my jersey, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Olivia's beside her, and even from this distance I can see Honey's trying to smile.
She came.
Whatever happened on Thursday night, whatever doubts have been eating at her—none of it matters right now.
She's here.
And I'm about to play the biggest game of my life.
Let’s fucking go.
Why the hell did I come?
Olivia’s hand is wrapped around mine as we navigate through the crowded stands. She showed up at my dorm two hours ago, and after I told her everything, she wouldn’t let me stay there and wallow in my own misery.
“Zach needs you,” she’d said. “You need Zach. Whether you like to admit it or not. You don’t have to stay for the entire game but at least see everyone. Then we can come back here and eat all the ice cream you want.”
She’s right. I haven’t spoken or texted Zach since I rejected hisproposal and I need to face him eventually. It’s not like I want to break up with him. Or do I? I don’t know anymore. I just know that he’s in a drastically different place than I am.
“See. It’s not so bad,” Olivia says, squeezing my hand as she leads me through the stadium. She’s right. With my head down and my hair covering my face like a lousy curtain, it’s a lot easier to walk around without getting recognized.
The crowd yells at a play on the field. I don’t look up, in fear that I’ll get recognized.
“Has she been crying?”
“I can’t believe she’s here. After last night?”
“Oh, this is embarrassing. Does she know?”