Page 97 of Blitzing Emily

“Looking forward to the game?” he asked Emily.

All Emily could manage was a nod. She was momentarily speechless, and she couldn’t seem to stop touching the pads and other paraphernalia he wore to do his job. She couldn’t imagine why seeing him in his uniform affected her like it did. He was the same guy who lounged on her couch, slept in her bed, tormented, teased, and kissed her. She spent most of her free time with him now.Don’t freak out, she told herself.

He leaned forward and said into her ear, “It’s me, sugar.”

By now, though, other fans advanced on Brandon, and he said to Amy, “Gimme a kiss for luck.”

She kissed his cheek and said, “Win.”

“I’ll do that. I need a kiss from you, too,” he told Emily. His mouth touched hers. She felt the familiar rush in her blood as his arm wrapped around her. Her knees went weak. She leaned into him. He laughed softly as he leaned his forehead against hers. “Save some for later.”

A fan thrust a pen and a piece of paper at him. He took a quick moment to sign his name, jumped down from the wall, then waved at them and ran back onto the field.

Brandon told Emily a few days ago he probably wouldn’t be playing in this game. After all, it was a preseason game, and the coach wanted to make sure he’d have the starters when the season began. This was actually a good thing, according to him.

“If Jon’s playing, I’m not starting, sugar. That’s what I wanted.”

“I won’t get to see you, though.”

“You’ll see me plenty during the regular season,” he said. “Really. I’ll be all over the place.”

“But I won’tbethere. I have to go to—”

At that point, Brandon kissed her breathless, and she forgot that she wouldn’t be able to watch him play in person when she was performing elsewhere. Maybe it didn’t matter.

Amy had rented a tablet-sized satellite television receiver for the season, which she’d taken from her purse and set up on her lap. “That’s odd. Didn’t you say Brandon wasn’t playing today?”

“He said he wasn’t.”

Amy made a sound like a grunt, stared into the tiny screen, and listened intently to the headphones.

The team ran off the field. They evidently finished their warm-up and were going to the locker room. Emily couldn’t believe the amount of noise in the stadium. Finding anyone who could out-yell or out-sing her was quite an achievement, but there seemed to be an entire stadium full. She could feel the stadium shaking when the team made their entrance and the game started.

The Sharks won the coin toss and elected to defer. When the defense lined up for their first series, Brandon ran out onto the field. “Amy.” Emily grabbed Amy’s arm. “There he is!”

“I can see, I can see,” Amy told her, but she was laughing. “The coach must have put him in for a series so you could watch. The TV guys are talking about it right now. They said the coach will play him for a few downs, and then he’s sitting for the rest of the game.”

Emily still clutched Amy’s arm.

“I love you, Em, but you need to lay off the weightlifting. Damn, you’re breaking my arm,” Amy said. She reached out to give her sister a half-hug, though.

The ball was snapped. Players crashed into each other, and Brandon managed to wrap his arm around the quarterback and drop him to the turf. “Look,” Emily called out.

“I needed that eardrum.” Amy was grinning at Emily’s excitement. “Yes, yes, he did well. Look at Damian. He got pig piled.”

“Isn’t he supposed to be sitting, too?”

“Next series,” Amy said.

The players on the field formed their lines again. The ball was snapped, and Brandon took off after the runner carrying the ball. He wrapped his arms around the guy and pulled him down to the turf. The crowd went wild. Obviously Brandon tackled him, but Emily was a bit confused at the reaction around her.

“What happened?”

“He dropped the guy behind the line of scrimmage. The other team lost yards,” Amy said. Evidently, this was good. She’d have to remember to ask Brandon about it later.

She glanced up at the scoreboard. Third and fifteen. Brandon told her before that when the other team had “third and long,” it was the defense’s job to make sure they couldn’t get enough yardage to get a first down.

Brandon lined up a short distance away from the other guys on the line, the ball was snapped, and he ran toward the other team’s quarterback. He leaped on the guy, but something must have happened during the tackle. A few seconds later, Brandon lay on the turf in obvious pain. He pushed his helmet off and was writhing, flipping from side to side. Emily looked on in horror. He couldn’t be hurt. He never got hurt, according to him. What on earth could be wrong?

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