Page 74 of The Longshot

My eyes widen in disbelief. “He did?”

“Look at the screen.” Hazel points to the right side of the pitch, where I watch Gary’s goal in slow motion.

The ball soars in from the outside wing into the box, where he heads it into the net with a force.

“Christ.” Hazel takes the word right out of my mouth. “That was a nice one. Way to go, Wilks!” She cheers until eventually everyone takes their seats, re-settling with the words “Gary Wilkinson” on their lips.

“Is it always like this?” I’m still in shock as I lean into Hazel.

She looks me in the eyes. “Do you mean is Wilks always like this?” She re-phrases my question. “Yes.” She nods. “Yes, he is. So get into it, Chelsie!” She cheers me on, reaching for a Crawfield scarf that rests in her tote bag and wrapping it around my neck. “That’s your man out there.”

I can’t help but playfully roll my eyes as I re-divert my attention back onto the field, feeling a new sense of confidence with Hazel's encouragement—so much so that as the remainder of the game goes by, I fall into the deeming habits of a football fan: yelling out at the ref when I don’t agree with their call, professing my love for the ref when they make one in our team's favor. Inputting my two cents about what the boys should be doing, then mocking that I could do better even though I know I can’t. Then, the best part of all? Cheering, laughing, and screaming each and every time the team scores… this time, I don’t miss the other two moments where Gary brings in the goals for the team.

The game ends after about three minutes of added time, with Crawfield winning 4-1.

After the final whistle, the players cheer alongside the crowd, Gary included, before shaking hands with the opposing team and exiting the field.

The stadium is quick to empty when, all at once, Delaney comes into view at the bottom of the stands. “Hazel! Chelsie!” She calls out our names. “C’mon down, girls. Let me take you through the tunnel.”

I quickly look in Hazel’s direction for clarity. “The tunnel?”

“Yeah,” she responds like this is a standard routine for her. “We’re going to see the boys. Are you ready?”

My escalating heartbeat reminds me that I knew Delaney said she was going to bring me to Gary after, but little did I realize that she meant we were going to go behind the scenes. Now, as I make my way down through the stands, I’m left meticulously trying to fix my hair in the reflection of my phone screen until finally, I reach the bottom.

“You look perfect,” Delaney remarks, beaming down at my scarf before she meets my eyes. “Love the merch, by the way.”

Heat rises to my cheeks as Hazel interlocks our arms as one. “And I’m positive Wilks will, too…”

NINETEEN

W I L K S

“We’re the best. We’re the best. We’re the fucking best. So sod to all the rest, ‘cause we’re the bloody best. Hey!”

“Stick to the football, lads,” Hart laughs at the team and I as we prance our way into the changeroom, singing chaotically as I lead the group in the anthem I just made up in response to today’s game.

It’s been a while since I scored a hat trick, and boy, did it feel good. It felt so fucking good—I can’t help but sing, even if I’m shite at it.

“Oh, piss off, Hart.” I roll my eyes as I push against him. Apparently he’s “too cool” to join in our semantics, whereas the rest of the lads show no hesitation. “Don’t listen to him, boys.” I turn back towards the group. “One more time. Let’s take it from the top, shall we?”

The group nods as we dance around the changing room, jumping up and down like a bunch of goons as we sing, “We’re the best. We’re the best. We’re the fucking best. So sod to all the rest, ‘cause we’re the bloody?—”

“Wilks!” It’s Delaney’s voice who cuts us short, projecting louder than ever as she shouts out my name from behind the changing room door.

“Uh oh, someone’s in trouble,” someone snickers from behind me, prompting the group to break into laughter.

“Shut it,” I quiet them down. “Yeah, Delaney? What’s up?” I call back out seriously.

“Do you mind coming out back when you’re ready?” She requests. “I’ve got a surprise waiting for you.”

The room erupts into a mixture of ooo’s as it becomes clear that the lads are trying to insinuate that I’ve got some sort of sexual surprise waiting for me with Delaney’s request.

I roll my eyes. They’re delusional. There’s no way Delaney would set something like that up, let alone think that Coach would allow anything of that caliber to take place at the stadium.

Coach is old school—it almost makes it hard to believe he was once like us—young, reckless, horny…

“The only love you should think about when you're on the field is your love of winning,” Coach once told us. “Keep all your other desires at home.”

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