“Oh, I know!” Pearl exclaims. “It’s wonderful, isn’t it? From being a little guy who got into everything to being one of the high school superstars.”
“More than that.” Mrs. Rosenblatt rolls her eyes and shakes a finger at her friend. “You know he and Levi bought those buildings, like the one we’re in, so that the rents wouldn’t go up any more?”
I didn’t even know that. “What?”
“Yes,” she says, turning my way. “He never told you?”
I give a shake of my head, wondering what else that mystery man of mine is up to. When the mysteries are this sweet, you can bet I don’t mind them.
“I had no idea, but knowing him and his brother, I can see that being a very good reason for them to get into real estate.”
“Their mother taught them well,” Pearl says as she holds her wallet in the air. “Now, excuse us, young lady, but I need a beer. Are you ready?”
I’m trying my hardest not to laugh as this dynamic duo trots off in the direction of the concession stand, after a beer that I’m not sure they’ll find at a high school football game but what do I know? Wrapping my coat tighter around my body, I continue toward the field.
Near the entrance, the sound of the marching band fills the air again and I walk through the gates. The stands are already almost full, with small groups of people hanging around in clusters around them. There’s a hum of excitement that’s impossible to ignore.
I glance around, searching for Austin, but still don’t see him anywhere. My heart gives a little jump when I think about how much this game must mean to him. It’s the last one before he heads off to Florida, and I know it’s bittersweet for him.
Someone pushes past me, so I move closer to the field, standing by the gates where the players will come out. The anticipation builds as the crowd quiets down, all eyes on the tunnel where the team is about to emerge. Suddenly, the first few notes of “I Hope You Change Your Mind” by The Chainsmokers start playing through the speakers, and I can’t help but smile. The song seems fitting, somehow, like the universe is playing DJ to our lives.
As the music plays, I glance around the stands, taking in the scene. My eyes catch on a familiar group in the crowd. His mom beams with pride, her smile a mirror image of Austin’s. Next to her, Levi and Georgie chat away, both wearing Sweetkiss Creek sweatshirts to show their school pride. Of course they’re all here, showing their support. That’s what the Porters do.
When they notice me looking, they wave enthusiastically, and I wave back, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. I can’t help but feel like I’ve gained some traction here, in my new town. This is truly shown in the evidence of me being at a local high school football game and knowing people in the crowd, though, isn’t it?
Still grinning, I turn my gaze back to the field, my thoughts shifting to Austin as the team comes bursting out of the tunnel, the players starting to sprint onto the field with all the energy and enthusiasm of high school athletes who have nothing to lose. As I look around one last time, my eyes finally land on Austin, tall and confident as he stands by the bench, huddled with another man, hands waving, probably talking strategy. His eyes slam into mine as he waves, and I wave back, feeling a flutter in my chest.
The noise and cheers around me bring me back to the tunnel and the players. These guys are bursting onto the field ready to seal the deal and win a game. Part of me feels a little bad for the opposing team; even I can feel the palpable energy the home team is bringing today.
But then something unexpected happens. One of the players suddenly deviates from his course and runs over to me, thrusting his hand out.
“Here.”
I look at the small bunch of greenery in his outstretched hand. “Huh?”
“It’s for you,” he says. He shoves it my way again. “Here.”
Slowly, I reach out and take the bunch of shrubbery out of the kid’s hands. Inspecting it, I turn it over and look at it, but am admittedly confused. Figuring it’s a weird fluke, or a dare, I sit back and watch as the next player comes charging out of the tunnel. He does, and as he’s about to run over to the bench he, too, does a pivot and jogs to me, extending his arm to give me something.
“M’lady,” he says, giving me a deep bow and holding out another bunch of greenery.
“What is this for?” I ask him as I take the gift.
He shrugs. “I just do as I’m told.” And with a quick salute, he’s off, jogging over to the bench. I watch as he makes his way, my eyes connecting with Austin’s. When I hold up the two small bunches of greens, he throws his hands in the air.
“Excuse me,” someone says. I turn my attention back to find another football player standing in front of me with the sweetest smile on his face. “Sorry to bug you, but I was told you’d enjoy this present.” He then whips out his own tiny bundle of greens. This time, as the player runs off, I bunch my bundles together and look at the leaves. If my eyes don’t deceive me…
It’s boxwood.
And so this continues. Each player, as they pass by, makes a sharp ninety-degree turn to their left and heads in my direction to hand me a small bunch of boxwood. My mouth falls open in surprise each time, and I can’t help the laugh that bubbles up as the pile grows bigger and bigger. Pretty soon, a giant cooler bag is donated to me to carry them all, thanks to a kind high school boosters family sitting nearby and witnessing the whole thing.
By the time the entire team has passed, I’m the keeper of enough pieces of boxwood that I could build my own hedge right here if I wanted.
“What are you doing?” I finally manage to ask, calling out over the hubbub around us and staring at Austin incredulously as he jogs over to me, a grin spreading across his face. “What am I supposed to do with this now?”
“Maybe we can move the hedge somewhere else?” Austin’s smile widens as he reaches out and pulls me into his arms. His hands wrap around my middle as he tugs on my waist and pulls me closer to him. “Or we could cut a window in it, so you have that view you want.”
“That was my thought, too.” I giggle, standing on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “But seriously, this is a lot of boxwood. When did you get time to clip all of this?”
