Page 81 of Fumbling for Perfection

“Give the ball to Bankes!” the guys yell from behind us.

It’s third and ten on the forty, with sixty yards to go. Anderson huts, the ball is hiked, and he hands it off to Walker. Walker fakes left, then cuts up the middle and past two defenders.

I jump to my feet, as does everyone else in the stadium, as he runs it thirty-nine yards. The stands erupt with cheers as everyone screams Walker’s name, and my face flushes with pride.

Jackson yells, “That’s my brother!” and gives Taylor a high five.

My heart bursts with pride for him. Two plays later, Miles Buckingham catches the ball in the corner of the endzone, and we’re up seven-zip after the extra point.

When he comes off the field and flips up his helmet on top of his head for a water break, Kendall and Jackson holler at him.

He looks up and sees Jackson first. The sweetest smile curves his mouth when he notices his brother. Then his eyes work down the line, seeing Kendall then me. He freezes, and for a moment I think he may be upset that I’m here. Then those lips stretch to his hairline and his eyes light up like a freaking Christmas tree.

“Oh my God, Riley. He’s beaming.” Rowan squeezes my arm.

It’s true. Those stormy eyes of his haven’t left mine, and I can practically feel the love radiating off him.

Wait. Love? No. Not love. That’s not a look of love. Of excitement that he has a fan club, yes.

Walker gets nudged by a teammate and one of the coaches and he says something to them without taking his eyes off me.

It’s not until Jackson yells again, “That’s my brother!” pointing at Walker, that Walker takes his eyes off me and tamps his helmet down again.

He looks up again and taps his chest before turning around and joining the others on the sideline to cheer on his team.

“Holy fuck,” Kendall says. “He just gave his heart to you.”

“He did not.” I don’t even fight the roll of my eyes.

“Did too. You made his fucking day by being here.”

“Wemade his day. Did you see how excited he was to see Jackson?”

“Yeah. Totally excited. Then he got a hard on when he spotted you.”

“We can argue about this later. Let’s enjoy the game,” Rowan, ever the peacekeeper, says.

It’s an amazing game, and Walker lives up to his reputation. When the game is over, instead of rushing off the field, Walker comes over to the stands and hops up, holding himself up by the railing.

“Nice win, brother.” Jackson taps him on the shoulders.

“Thanks for coming. All of you.” Walker politely scans all five of us, saving me for last and keeping his eyes locked on mine.

“It was Riley’s idea,” Jackson said.

Walker’s sweaty brow lifts. “Yeah?” I shrug. “That jersey looks good on you.”

I bite my lip then open my mouth and stupid words come out. “Rowan looks good in it too. So do Jackson and Taylor. Jackson thinks he’s cool because the jersey has his name on it.”

The guys sitting behind us crowd our space and reach over my shoulder.

“Hey, man. Fucking sweet game. Can we get a picture?”

I glare at the drunk frat boys behind us, who obviously can’t read a room. I expect Walker to brush them off, but from what I’ve seen, he’s typically pleasant to his fans.

“Sure,” Walker says with only a smidgen of bite.

When I start to move aside, he grabs my forearm, keeping me close. The annoying men crowd in front of me and take their pictures. When they start to make small talk, Walker politely dismisses them.

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