Page 111 of Fashionista's Playbook

We scored again while I caught my breath on the sidelines. Only then did I look at the scoreboard, make note of the clock.

I glanced toward the seats my parents would have been sitting in, where Vin was supposed to be. They were long gone. Vin to find his own way and my parents—I’d see them again oneday. I could look to where they should be and remember this was worth it, all the bullshit was worth it.

Someone was sitting there, right where I'd intended my family to have been.

My heart sped up, my breath caught, and I nearly missed the call to the line because I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

Moriah.

Clutch thumped me on the back as we knelt at scrimmage. “See that, brother? Where I come from, we call that a woman in love.”

When the ball snapped, I had more than a win on my mind.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

Moriah

Weeks ago, I wouldn’t have wished Travis’ brother was sitting beside me. The energy of the stadium was surreal, it ebbed and throbbed, building pressure like a jet engine before takeoff; positively combustible. Travis felt it too. His family should be here.

Was I enough? Maybe not, but I would try my damn best.

The moment he saw me resonated to my bones. Suddenly, it wasn’t the stadium I worried might combust—but me.

Travis’ head snapped around, and even from this distance, I could see his shoulders straighten as he stared right at me. He moved through the next play with a purpose I’d never seen him play with before.

Another touchdown and the game would be tied.

I’d be a fool to think he was playing with this confidence because of me. I could feel the energy, but still…I hoped I at least contributed somewhat. I needed to tell him, show him so many things.

Definitely no turning back now.

Play after play brought him closer, enough I could make out his expression, notice every glance he cast my way. Which he did, often.

Something tingled just beneath my skin, warming and exciting me all at once. A horde of nervous, fluttering butterflies took flight in my chest, and I gripped the arm rails tightly. He could win this; I could win him back. I didn’t dare allow myself to think too much about either, for fear of jinxing us.

Travis shot from the line head down, and zigged when the defender zagged, the ball sailing cleanly into his waiting arms.

He was so fast. I’d known he could move, but seeing that burst of speed up close and personal sent a jolt of pride through me. He scored, stopping in the middle of the painted endzone and pointing straight at me with the ball. Every part of me exploded with adoration and relief as the fans around me thundered their approval loud enough my seat shook.

Then he kissed his fingertips through the face mask and tapped his heart. All my fears dissipated. I was meant to be here, meant to be his.

And when he scored a second time? I returned the phantom kiss and danced in the aisle, cheering with the fans around me. Travis and I weren’t whole yet, but we were damn close.

We won by a touchdown. Trembling with nerves and happiness, I collapsed in my seat. What to do next was beyond me. I hadn’t thought this through this far. But he had.

Travis’ large body broke through the throng of people near the endzone closest to me. The crowd reached for him, grasping for a piece of their hero. Helmet off, confetti raining down on him, he stole my breath.

I stood as he jumped onto the wall and climbed up, over the rails. Fans grabbed at his jersey, hefting him up slapping him on the back in celebration. Befuddled and panicked, security scrambled around the steps.

The crowd parted, and row after row he climbed over empty seats. His gaze stayed locked with mine, saying all the words neither of us had been able to find.

God, how I’d missed him. I hadn’t realized how much until tears burned in my eyes.

He stopped a row beneath me and pointed over my shoulder. “We’ve got an audience.”

I glanced up to see us on the jumbotron, for all the stadium to see.

“Travis Madera,” I shouted over the noise. “I love you!”

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