I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words mix with the adrenaline pounding in my veins.
“I won’t let you down,” I promise. Besides, there’s a pretty brunette in the stands to impress today.
“Alright, team—let’s get out there and play some football,” he bellows, and just like that, we break the huddle.
As we take our positions, I steal one last glance at Madison.
My cheeks hurt from how big my smile is, but I give Mads a wink and then get into position.
Yeah, it feels really fucking good having her back in the crowd.
Carter must’ve seen the exchange, wearing a knowing little smirk. It’s obvious Madison talked to him, but I have no idea what she shared. That’s an issue for another time. The roar of the crowd washes over me as I crouch into position, muscles coiled and ready. Carter's voice cuts through the noise, barking out the play call.
"Red 42! Red 42! Hut!"
I explode off the line, my cleats digging into the turf. My eyes lock onto Carter as he drops back. The ball spirals towards me, and I stretch out, fingertips grazing leather.
Got it.
I tuck the ball and turn up field, legs pumping, a blur of motion in my peripheral.
Impact.
The ground rushes up to meet me as I'm slammed from the side. Pain blossoms across my ribs, but I hold on tight to the ball. Can't fumble.
"Nice catch, pretty boy," the linebacker sneers, his hot breath hitting my face as he pushes off me.
I grit my teeth, ignoring the taunt. "Thanks for the welcome," I shoot back, springing to my feet. My eyes find Madison in the stands, her worried expression softening as I give her a subtle nod. I'm okay.
We get back into formation quickly before Carter's voice rings out again, "Blue 33! Blue 33! Set, hut!"
This time, as the ball snaps, I see my opening. The cornerback commits too early, and I blow past him. Carter's pass is a thing of beauty, arcing high and long.
Time slows. The roar of the crowd fades to a dull hum. It's just me and the ball now.
I stretch, my fingers closing around the pigskin. My feet hit the ground, and I'm off, sprinting towards the end zone. The wind whips against my face as I run, heart pounding in my ears.
Twenty yards. Ten. Five.
I cross the line, ball raised high. The stadium erupts.
Touchdown.
As my teammates swarm me, slapping my helmet and shouting congratulations, I can't help but search the crowd again. There she is, on her feet, cheering louder than anyone. You couldn’t wipe the grin from my face if you tried.
The game continues in a blur of plays, tackles, and hard-fought yards. Every time I hit the turf, I spring back up, driven by the fire in my gut and the knowledge that Madison's watching. Her presence in the stands fuels me more than any cheering crowd ever has.
As the clock ticks down to the final seconds, we're up by four. The opposing team has the ball, driving hard for one last shot at victory. My hands are on my knees as I watch from the sidelines, heart hammering against my ribs.
"Come on, defense," I mutter, eyes glued to the field. "One more stop."
The snap. Their quarterback drops back, searching desperately for an open receiver. Our defensive line surges forward, collapsing the pocket. He scrambles, heaves a desperation throw?—
Intercepted! Our safety snags the ball out of the air, cradling it to his chest as he falls to the ground. The stadium explodes into cheers.
Game over. We've won.
As my teammates rush the field in celebration, I find myself searching the stands again. There's Madison, beaming down at me, her hazel eyes shining even from this distance. I want to run to her, sweep her up in my arms, but I know I can't, not yet—I don’t want to scare her.
