Page 1 of Touched Down
Chapter One
LESLIE
Go, Baby, Go!
Elation flows through every part of me as the ball travels from my man’s hands, through the air, and into the hands of the receiver. Wayne always trusts his wide receiver, Jeremiah Taylor, to bring in a touchdown. As anticipated, Jeremiah effortlessly beasts his way into the endzone, bulldozing his way past at least three players from the opposing team.
“Whohoo! Go—” I stifle the rest of the cheer that instinctively wants to burst out of me from sheer excitement. I catch myself before I yell,‘go, baby, go!’It’s not an unusual football fan battle cry, but it feels like screaming it would publicize our relationship without Wayne's blessing.
Wayne just threw another touchdown. Unlike the ones he’s thrown the last few games, this one is a big fucking deal. He has just clenched the Washington Saints a spot in the NFL finals. Every Saint fan in the arena goes wild, including my best friend and sister, the only member of my immediate family who supports me.
Jasmine jumps out of her seat, howling like a wild woman. “Girl, that damn Jeremiah Taylor is a beast. And why he gotta be so damn fine too?” She starts fanning like she’s hot in the fifty-degree weather. We’re wearing sweaters and coats with scarves to protect our faces from the biting wind. There is no way her ass is hot.
“Yeah,” I respond softly. My mind is still reeling over my inability to celebrate the way I want to for number seven, who happens to be Wayne Richards—my man.
The idea that I have a whole man on the field who has placed rules on our relationship that make me feel uncomfortable with screaming ‘go, baby, go’ for fear of someone finding out about us has me bothered. Everyone in this arena is screaming, yet I’m worried about chanting for my man. The intensity of this very moment enhances my feelings.
"Are you okay, Les?" Jasmine asks.
"Honestly, no."
She squeezes my hand. She knows how I feel about being a secret. "Ever since Wayne threw that touch down, you’ve been looking from him to the wives and girlfriend section with a look of desperation, so I figured you were having a moment."
Hell, yeah. I’m having a moment. I feel so deeply and strongly about my fear of claiming my man from the stands that I can’t even reply to her. To respect Wayne’s wishes, I keep the appearance of an ordinary fan.
I drop into my usual seat at the fifty-yard line. It’s a very good seat, but I’m not with the NFL wives and fiances where I want to be. Hell, I’m not even with the girlfriends or side pieces.
The Saint players' “wives and fiances” are a tight little clique when they’re on good terms. To be close to the action, they sit in an area designated the wife box, a section of the fifty-yard line quartered off for them. My seat is about five rows back but close enough to observe the ladies wearing jerseys with their husbands’ and fiances’ names on the back.
Richard’s wife, Monica, is the most dramatic, with a large diamond stone-studded poster bordered in blue and yellow fur. His name is written with flashing yellow lights, and the words ‘I Love You’ flash repeatedly. Surely, this will set the trend, and atthe next game, the other wives will have props trying to upscale her.
Jasmine sits and moves so close to my ear that one of her twisted locks falls onto my face. She whisper-talks, "They're not better than you, especially not that arts and crafts bitch with her sign. You’ve seen and heard about their lives on their NFL Wives show. You don’t want that. Most of their men are cheating and only have them out here for show. Wayne worships the ground you walk on. He does this to keep you out of the public eye so that what you have is special. He loves you and doesn’t want anything to happen to you."
My sister knows what I need to hear. I smile because she’s right. "I understand why he does what he does, but our situation is sometimes aggravating, you know?"
Jasmine gives me a look of understanding. "Try not to think about it. This is a big night for him. For you both, actually."
I nod and smile again. "You’re right, and that’s why I wanted you here with me tonight. Thanks for keeping me on track. I definitely got lost for a minute.”
I constantly got confused and felt like leaving Wayne, so he could find someone he wouldn’t mind being in the spotlight. I could be reeled back into understanding our agreement, but it was easy for me to return to my original feeling: there should be no secrets, no lies.
Jasmine agreed to attend the game with me so I wouldn't have to sit alone.
There is a lot at stake for Wayne’s career tonight. It’s his first year as starting quarterback for the Washington Saints. He had been second string for three years until the medical team benched Dariel Grant this year. Taking his team into the playoffs could be major for Wayne’s career.
Besides, there is nothing wrong with our seats. I know who Wayne Richards belongs to. He’s mine, and he loves me only. I’m here to support him.
I watch expectantly as the Saint’s defense intercepts and turns the ball back to the offense. Without hesitation, Wayne throws a pass to his trusted receiver in the next play. This one is a sure touchdown. When Alec Blakely sweetly catches the pass and sprints into the endzone, he tosses the ball down and starts shuffling his feet to his own beat.
The crowd loses it and goes insane once again. It’s so loud that it sounds like I’m in a tunnel. Everyone is on their feet, screaming, throwing confetti, and blowing horns. Elation isn't even the right word for how I feel. My man's team is headed to the NFL championship playoffs.
My eyes trail back to the field and find Wayne. He jumps and collides with one of his teammates as they do an airborne celebratory body bump. His teammates swarm him, and they all celebrate as media outlets do their best to position themselves for a postgame interview.
Instinct tells me to rush the field like the other significant others. I want to hug, congratulate, and be by his side. I want to kiss him and tell him how proud I am of him. I shouldn’t have to wait until we get home to do that. I want to share this moment with him. I should be allowed to share this moment with him.
Rumors of Wayne as an available bachelor would stop if I run down there and claim him. He is mine, after all. He wouldn’t deny me. How could he?
The thought of going down there and claiming my man flees as quickly as it comes. I can't rush the field on one of his biggest nights. I agreed to his stupid deal to keep our engagement out of the spotlight, and I'm a woman of my word.
