It’s too late.
Even if I wanted to go, I probably couldn’t get a flight. Or a hotel room. Or hell, even a ticket.
It’s just nerves making me second-guess my choice. That or I’m missing Brady.
He left for Miami yesterday with the rest of the team and though he didn’t say it, he must be nervous.
Hell, I’m nervous for him.
Not only will the Wildcats be playing for millions of viewers tomorrow night, they’re up against a fifteen-year drought.
The pressure they’re under is…intense.
Brady’s been putting in extra time with Coach Walker ever since he returned from the Peach Bowl, so we haven’t seen each other much this week, but he promised that win or lose, things will settle down when he gets back from Miami. With all the extra practice sessions, he’s been staying at his place since it’s closer to the football building and though I miss having him in my bed, the break has allowed me to record extra sessions for my Fangirl page.
I haven’t been able to completely rebuild my savings after paying off Mike McConnell, but I’ve scraped together enough to cover my expenses for the spring semester. Even if I only record once or two sessions a week for the next few months, I should have a small nest egg to keep me afloat until I secure a teaching position.
Assuming it doesn’t take more than a few months.
My phone vibrates on the couch next to me and Jenna’s name appears on the screen.
I swipe accept and bring it to my ear. “What’s up?”
“Are you watching ESPN? They’re doing a whole segment on the Wildcats and Brady’s up next.”
“What channel?” I flip the tv on, giving silent thanks cable is included in the rent.
“Thirty-two. Hurry!”
I punch in the numbers on the remote and a pretty Black sportscaster materializes on-screen. She’s standing on the floor of what must be Hard Rock Stadium.
“Ken, I had the pleasure of speaking with Waverly’s quiet left tackle earlier today, and here’s what he had to say.”
The screen cuts to a pre-recorded clip of Brady. He’s dressed in his practice uniform and there’s dirt smeared across his right hip, but he looks good.
“Damn, girl. I cannot believe you’re sleeping with that man.” Jenna sighs loudly. “Have I mentioned how fine he is?”
I laugh and even though she’s ogling my boyfriend, I can’t be mad about it. “I think you may have mentioned it once or twice.”
The sportscaster shoves a microphone in Brady’s face and asks him how he’s feeling heading into the big game.
“I feel good.” He rubs the back of his neck, giving America a dose of the boy next door charm that made me fall so hard. It’s usually Austin Reid and Cooper DeLaurentis who get face time, but with the hype leading up to the game, it’s no surprise the networks are broadening their coverage. “We’ve been working hard all season. The team is healthy, and spirits are high. The Bulldogs are going to give us a run for our money, but we’re ready.”
Brady isn’t used to being on camera, but he’s hiding it well. There’s a nervous flush to his cheeks, but the casual observer would probably write it off as too much sun or exertion from practice.
“Do you have any words for Wildcat Nation or for your family at home?”
“I want to thank the fans for their unwavering support these last four seasons. It’s been an incredible ride and though this will be the last game I ever play for Waverly, I’ll always be a Wildcat in here.” He claps a hand over his heart and I just know there must be women swooning all over campus. “I’d also like to thank my mom and my grandmother for always believing in me and challenging me to show up and give it my all. I wouldn’t be where I am today without them.” Brady looks straight into the camera, and it’s like he’s speaking directly to me. “And Piper, darlin’, if you’re watching, I miss you like crazy and after we win that title, I’ll be on the first plane home so we can celebrate together.”
Holy. Crap.
This cannot be my life.
I’m having an auditory hallucination. With heart palpitations.
It’s far more logical than my sweet, adorable boyfriend promising to win a national title so he can hop the first jet back to me.
Jenna squeals, damn near shattering my eardrum, and I realize that no, this really is my life.
