Page 107 of Redemption
I haven’t been to a game since I moved here last year. I used to love football, but I’m tired of watching my brother destroy himself for the sport. So, I stopped watching all together.
Hayes stops, grabbing my elbow and pulling me to stand in front of him. His hand stays on my arm, but I can feel that one touch everywhere.
“Let’s make it a game,” he says, shoving his other hand in his pocket and trying to look innocent. The smirk on his lips says otherwise. He’s waiting for me to take the bait because he knows I won’t miss the chance of beating him at something. I’m too competitive.
“What kind of game?” My voice is wary because even though I’ll accept because my competitive nature won’t allow me to say no, I already feel like I’m playing too many games with Hayes—mostly the game of hiding my heart from him. It’s the only game I’m afraid I’ll lose.
“Well, maybe more like a bet—”
“What kind of bet, Hayes?” I huff.
He leans in close, our lips brushing with each word.
“I bet if you come to the game, I’ll score the winning touchdown just for you.”
“Hayes, you can’t possibly bet on that—you could get hurt or not play or the coach could call a hundred other plays that put someone else as the receiver—or you could lose the game entirely.”
His face is relaxed as he keeps his eyes on me, that smirk still on his lips. “Are you scared?”
I huff, shoving at his chest, but he doesn’t move. He’s like a brick wall. My hands stay on his chest, and his body heat bleeds into my hands, making it hard to think.
“What do I get if I win?” I ask, leaning closer and playing the game.
“Anything you want.” His breath comes in spurts, and I realize I affect him just as much as he does me.
“And what about you? What do you get if you win?” My words are breathy, revealing too much.
He winks, pulling back and leaving me cold, “I’ll tell you after I win.”
Then he’s walking away, in the opposite direction of my class, and leaving me alone.
“I’ll leave the ticket at the box,” he calls, not even bothering to look back.
______________________
It’s thirty minutes before game time, and I still haven’t decided if I’m going to play Hayes’s game. My jersey is lying on my bed, and I keep staring at it as if it can help me decide.
“Any advice here, God?” I ask, looking up at the sky.
But the room stays silent. I mean, it’s not that I thought I would hear a voice boom through my dorm room, but it would have been nice if it had.
The truth is, I’ve been praying about this situation with Hayes since the day I realized I saw him as more than my brother’s best friend. I’m still no closer to an answer than I was then.
I gave Hayes a chance once, and he broke my heart. But I can’t deny that he’s been there for me this past year more than anyone in my life. I no longer have to shoulder the worry of Langston alone, and that’s nice.
It’s just one bet, right?
If he wins, it can’t be that bad, and if I win, he said I could have anything I want.
The chances of him scoring the winning touchdown are slim to none, not because he isn’t good—but because you can’t control the game like that.
Swiping the jersey off the bed, I yank it over my head, mind made up.
One game. I’ll go to one game.
The walk to the stadium is short. My hair hangs around my shoulders under my toboggan. I curled it and threw a hoodie on under my jersey—the same jersey with Hayes’s last name on it. In my senior year of high school, I bought two jerseys—one with mine and Langston’s last name and one with Hayes’s.
I could have easily grabbed the one with my last name—I probably should have—but I’m not going for my brother today. I’m going for Hayes, and that’s a fact that I can’t ignore.
