Page 94 of Faking Ties

“I aim to please.”

I snort. “You’re accomplishing that.”

And Hunter’s just showing me that there’s more to my life than being Stella. That when this is all over with, I still get to keep him.

HUNTER

Imake it to the game with hours to spare. It’s the latest I’ve ever arrived at a game, but I’m lucky we’re in California today. Elodie’s plane touched down just long enough for me to exit and refuel before continuing its journey to New York so she can be with Stella.

Coach gives me a long look. “Cutting it close, Holt.”

“Sorry, Coach,” I mumble and scurry into the locker room to suit up.

“Pay up, suckers,” Quincy says. At least five players grumble and slap some money in his awaiting palm.

“Did you assholes really bet against me coming?” I ask, pulling on my pads. Quincy, Jake, D-Rock, Marcus, and Trey all hover near me.

“Honestly?” D-Rock says. “We thought you’d stay with Stella after that bombshell of an interview. Is she doing okay?”

Anger at Elodie’s situation surges through my blood at the mention of the interview. Elodie was quiet during the entire plane ride over.

“She’s managing,” I say, “as well as she can.”

“Is it true?” Marcus asks.

“Not important.” Quincy smacks him on the back of his head.

“Well,” Trey says, “I already made us T-shirts to wear after the game that say, ‘I hope you enjoy the soundtrack more than the movie.’ We all agreed to wear them and show our support for Stella.”

“Really?” I ask, overcome with emotion. I never expected my teammates to do something like that for the woman I love.

Trey nods, reaches into his locker, and takes out a black shirt with a picture of Stella and a word bubble coming out of her mouth with the quote written in gold writing. It’s hilarious and surprisingly well done on such short notice.

I take the shirt he hands me. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

Jake claps me on the shoulder. “Get ready. We have a beast of a game in front of us.”

I snap a picture of the shirt and send it to Elodie and text her an explanation.

Me: Trey made these for you. Fair warning, I’m going to live in the shirt for the next month.

Me: Miss you already. Let me know when you’re at the penthouse.

I keepthe phone in my hand, waiting for a response I know won’t come. Not when she won’t get any of these until she lands.

The snap explodesin my ears, a familiar war drum. I prepare to run my route, to catch the quick slant to me, but my route is swarmed. The secondary guessed our play. Shit. Jake drops back, scanning the field for options while Trey and Quincy try to keep him safe.

D-Rock is caughtin a double team. The defenders try to anticipate D-Rock’s and Jake’s next move. Our play has completely fallen apart, but D-Rock is one of our best players. If I could reduce the pressure on him, he’ll catch the ball. I know he will.

With a burst of adrenaline, I angle my run towards the linebackers, aiming to draw their attention for a split second. It's a gamble, a calculated risk. Jake isscrambling to find an opening, and I need to do something before he’s sacked. The defenders are close enough for my idea to work, maybe five yards away from each other. They see my sudden change of direction and hesitate for the briefest moment, unsure if I'm now the intended target of Jake’s impending throw.

That hesitation is all it takes. D-Rock, with his trademark quickness, exploits the gap I've created. He shoots through the space between the linebackers, a blur of green and white, leaving them scrambling in his wake. My sacrifice buys him precious seconds, a sliver of hope. Jake adjusts his throw on the fly and the ball sails through the air, a perfect spiral cutting a diagonal path across the field. My breath hitches as D-Rock leaps, extending his body with preternatural grace. His fingertips brush the leather, hauling it in just before it hits the ground. Touchdown.

A primal roar erupts from our sideline, a tidal wave of sound that washes over me. But my focus remains on D-Rock. I sprint towards him and join him in doing the Dougie to celebrate.

The glory of the touchdown isn't mine, but it feels even sweeter than ever before. Impressing Evren or Coach doesn’t matter right now, not when we’re playing in perfect harmony. We’re finally playing like a team—the team Coach and Jake have been pushing us to be all season.

Adrenaline sparksin my blood as we play the rest of the game. Offensively, we continue playing like a well-oiled machine. But fate has other plans for us. No matter how many points we put on the board, the opposing team keeps up with us.

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