Page 58 of Crazy for this Girl

The rest of the game goes by in blurs of air horns and the clashing of those unnecessary gold symbols, but the moments I hear the announcer call out Cal’s name, I realize that he’s the wide receiver and a really good player.

I notice he has a fan club of females with neon posters with the number twenty-three, all cheering for him. I smile because he underplayed his popularity, and I’m not about to get into my head about how many he’s dated or which one is the crush he mentioned while I’m on the other side of the country to see him.

When Cal’s Varsity team wins the game, the roar of applause and praise is deafening. I remain in my spot, leaned up against a chain-linked fence that separates the sidelines from the crowd. The audience begins to leave, causing a lot of unwanted bodies while my eyes stay glued to the field. I lost Cal in the multitude of people but hope I can find where they’re going to come off the field so I can surprise him then.

Some of the players begin to depart as well, coming my way through the gate and toward the school behind me. I impatiently wait some more, not seeing him, hoping I didn’t miss him through the thickness of bodies when I spot him stopped by a few girls.

His dark chocolate hair is plastered to his sweaty forehead. His helmet hanging off the back of his head as he bobs it to whatever one of them is saying.

A brunette twirls her hair around her index finger, gawking up at him like he’s God and she wants to please him. The short blonde at her side smiles at him, talking his ear off for another moment before says his goodbyes and begins to walk away.

He looks exhausted as he comes toward me. His chin stays tucked into his chest as someone grabs his attention again, and he high fives a middle-aged man in an Edgewood Beach hat.

Cal moves on, raking his wet hair through his fingers, and when he turns his head back my way, it only takes a few seconds for him to find me. It’s like we have this invisible tether that holds tightly, never letting the other one flee or even surprise the other fully.

I see his eyes widen then constrict as his movements quicken, as he jogs the rest of the way through the throng of bodies as if I’m going to disappear. His eyes narrow in on me again, out of, I’m sure, sheer confusion, as he closes the distance between us and I hear the pure disbelief in his tone at my presence.

“Laynee?”

I smile, watching so many jovial emotions flash over his face. “You definitely didn’t tell me how good you were, Beach Boy.”

Cal bends down and lifts me up in his arms. The hard plastic of his shoulder pads digs into my ribs as he tightly clasps onto me like a lifeline, but I don’t care.

This is worth it.

We haven’t seen each other in three months, and since I turned eighteen, I can get a hotel room without a fake ID because I’ve thought about having to do that. Plus, if my mom finds out I wasn’t in the same state, I can’t get in trouble with the cops.

“How the hell are you here?” He pulls his face away to look up at me. “It is you, isn’t it?”

My brows knit, still with my smile as I study his chiseled jaw, those crystal-clear greens, and—dang, how does Cal get so much cuter as time passes? “I know you’re tired, but yeah, it’s me, goofball.”

“Holy shit. I can’t believe you’re here.” His handsome face twists. “How are you here?”

“I teleported.”

“No, shit. How was that?”

“It was…” I bob my head in thought. “A rush. Highly don’t recommend.”

Cal’s lips heave at the corners and gently places me back on the ground. “Damn, and I thought I was going to be able to save on airfare to North Carolina.”

“It’s a disappointment, I know.” His eyes probe every inch of my face as if something is different about me. That the three months we were apart did wonders to my features and now I look like Britney Spears. “What?”

I watch him snap out of his semi-daze, towering over me in all his football glory. “I…I can’t believe you’re actually here. I’m really happy you are here.”

“Yeah?” I quirk a teasing brow. “I couldn’t tell.”

“Hey, Cal,” a male voice hollers out from behind us. “You comin’ to the party tonight? Alyssa will be there.”

Who the hell is Alyssa? And is that his crush? Will my brain ever shut up?

“Nah, man.” My best friend doesn’t even bother to turn around and acknowledge him. "I’m busy.“

“Go,” I urge with a little shake to his body as teammate walks away. “You won the game.”

“Hell no,” Cal objects, pulling me forward and tucking me into the crook of his arm. “You’re here. I’m not going to a lame party when I have you all to myself.”

“It’s your senior year. This game was important to you. You only spoke about it for weeks.” He opens his mouth, but another body steers its way into our conversation.

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