Page 135 of Playbook
“Yeah, it’s sexy when a guy does it, but needy and demanding when girls do.”
I scowl at him. “That’s sexist!”
“I don’t make the rules.” He shrugs.
I don’t text Brogan. Not because I think it’s needy but because I don’t want to distract him. He has enough going on and I don’t know where his head is at.
The game is tied and there’s a nervous energy in the stadium that’s bled into me, making me more anxious than I was earlier. I guess I careabout football now. Or at least a single football player, and I know he’ll be disappointed if they lose.
The third and fourth quarters are back and forth. My fingers are red from where I’ve been clenching my hands into fists and then sitting on them to stop myself. The Mavericks are down by three with less than a minute to go. I feel helpless and sick to my stomach.
“God, you’re antsier than me.” Alec places a hand on my leg to stop it from bouncing.
“I think I’m gonna throw up.”
“You are really not cut out to be a football wife.”
“I just hope I’m still a football girlfriend,” I mutter. “I’ll worry about my iron stomach later.”
The stadium is on their feet when the Mavericks get into position on the field. I go between watching on the big screen to staring down at the field, all the while watching Brogan. When the ball is snapped, he runs at a slant toward the sideline. Cody scans and steps back, then fires the ball toward Brogan. He’s still running toward the end zone but somehow manages to catch the ball over his shoulder.
The crowd erupts and we all scream as Brogan sprints toward the end zone with defenders chasing after him. One defender gets close, and I hold my breath. Brogan holds out an arm, keeping the guy away from him and then somehow pushing him to the ground, all while running at an incredible speed.
When he crosses over and makes the touchdown it feels like the ground shakes with the excitement. Alec and I turn to each other, jumping and yelling, then I turn back to watch Brogan celebrate. His teammates on the field rush him, and the ones on the bench sprint ontothe field. It’s madness.
“We have to get down there,” I say to Alec. If we don’t start that way, we’re going to be blocked by the thousands of people in front of us.
We jog down many, many flights of steps to the lowest area, then down to where people are going onto the field. Security is tight and there’s no way we’re going to be allowed on.
“Flash your press badge around or something,” I say to Alec.
“I’m a weatherman.”
“Doesn’t that count for something?” I groan, then spot a familiar head and renewed excitement surges through me. “Wait, there’s Archer.”
He’s at the edge of the field in a group, but it’s definitely him. I can see his profile and he’s grinning wide at the field where Brogan is still celebrating.
I start to yell for Archer, but it’s so noisy in here I know he’ll never hear me. And there is no pushing my way through.
“Holland!” I yell with everything I have. My throat burns. Someone taps him on the shoulder and points, and he turns.
I wave when he spots me. Then he starts for me.
“Hi.” I lean closer to him as I scream the greeting, but I can’t even hear myself.
Archer grins at me, then yells, “You’re here?”
He looks confused, like maybe he thinks I shouldn’t have come. I try not to let it deter me.
“I need to see him.” I point to the field.
“You’re here?” he asks again.
I wave a hand in front of me.
He’s smiling bigger. “But you weren’t home.”
“What?” I’m not sure I’m hearing him right.
