A couple of my teammates spot me now and break away from the pile at the end zone, sprinting back this way. I barely take two steps before they crash into me, and not just the guys who played, even the benched ones. ThenI’mthe one at the bottom of a sweaty, screaming body pile.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know there’s a joke in here Jace would 100 percent make about a football orgy, but I can’t even think straight. I’m too busy getting crushed and gasping for air.
But shit,we did it!
I don’t even know who hauls me up, but suddenly I’m on my feet, bouncing and yelling, caught in the noise and energy of the team in what feels like only a second later.
This. This is what I’ve been working toward. Whatwehave. And now I really get it, I get why Jace chased his dream so hard last year. Why hehadto.
Because this? This is it. This is what I was meant to do. What I trained for, sacrificed for, fuckinglivedfor all this time.
We fucking did it. We fucking won.
My grin is so wide, I swear the corners of my mouth might just burst.
“Say ‘quack!’” Lamar shoves his beefy arm around my shoulders and starts snapping a dozen selfies. No idea how hegot his phone out that fast, but honestly, I’m all for it. I want to remember this moment, this feeling, for the rest of my life.
So I cling to my oldest, best friend, making dumb faces as he licks my cheek, bumps into me, and bounces around like the idiots we are.
It’s the best.
The crowd is roaring nonstop, the field’s filling up fast, confetti cannons blast shiny orange snippets everywhere, and the crew’s already setting up the stage where we’ll get the trophy in a bit.
I’m floating. I’m reeling. I’m fucking ecstatic.
But all the while my eyes fly over the stands because I justknowhe’s here. Iknowhe made it. Hehasto have made it. I couldfeelhis eyes on me. The last text I got was a couple of hours before the game. He was stuck in LA traffic, but promised he would make it. The last things that needed to be fixed with the label and Mick, are now officially done. One less thing to worry about.
The chaos rages around me, my grin refusing to fade, but I keep searching, scanning the crowd again and again. He has on-field access, I made sure of that, so he has to be here somewhere.
It’s Ava I spot first, her bright pink hair like a damn beacon in the sea of black and orange.
And shit, there he is,Jace, and people start noticing him too.Them, the band that’s currently still atop of the charts, the whole crowd drawn like magnets, eyes turning, whispers spreading. The spotlight seems to follow him wherever he goes, the kind of pull only someone like him can have.
But to me, he’s just Jace.
Jace who I love. Jace who’s my everything.
I don’t see the rockstar, the arrogant tease, the man the whole world seems to want.
I see the goofy, flirty, lonely guy with a teeny tiny heart. The guy who carries poetry tucked deep inside but hides it behinda smirk and a joke. The guy who’s wearing the bright-orange knitted sweater my mom made, my jersey over it, because he loves her and always wants to do her right. The guy who’s my fuckingsun, who makes me believe that maybe, just maybe, we’ve got a shot at something real.
Myguy.
And then he notices me.
It’s almost like the crowd senses it. People instinctively step aside when he comes closer, parting as if they knowsomething’s about to happen. As if they feel the pull between us just as much as I do.
He looks so fucking amazing. Wind-tossed hair, flushed cheeks, wearing that ridiculous knitted sweater like it’s couture. His smile cracks wide the moment our eyes lock, and it’s over for me.
The chaos around us blurs. The teammates cheering, the confetti still falling, the music blaring… None of it touches this bubble we’re in. It’s just him and me. Smiling at each other.
“I’m so fucking proud of you,” he breathes, eyes alight, as he plucks a stray piece of confetti from my hair.
And we both know exactly what’s about to happen. It feels choreographed, like a moment we’ve rehearsed a thousand times in our heads. But we didn’t. This is just us, following the pull of us.
I see it in his smile, in the shine in his eyes, and I can’t help but gravitate toward him. I reach for him, cup his exquisite face, and let my nose nudge against his in a silent promise of what’s coming.
He grabs my wrists, one hand around the rainbow-band, grounding me as I press my lips to his, right here, right now, for everyone to see. The reporters, the cameras, the fans, my team, the whole damn world.
