Page 95 of Red Zone
26
LYLA
My week is one of the busiest I’ve ever had. Everything is going so perfectly, I just know there’s going to be something that crumbles at some point.
And sure enough, by the time the next Saturday morning rolls around, my stomach feels like it’s been tied in a knot and left there overnight.
It has to just be nerves.
That’s what I tell myself as I stand in the kitchen, organizing the fridge shelves, even though they don’t need organizing. Labels facing forward. Drinks lined up perfectly.
It’s stupid how much it helps.
The tea kettle whistles, and I pour myself a cup, wrapping my hands around it to hide the fact that they’re clammy. My head aches in that dull, heavy way it always does when I don’t sleep enough.
It’s fine. I’m fine.
Game day mornings are always stressful. This one’s no different.
By the time I’ve gone through my routine of packing my bag, double-checking the social post schedule, and triple-checking the camera batteries, I almost believe it.
After the last-minute pre-game meetings, I fall into step with my team, triple checking graphics, confirming sideline camera positions, and making sure the interns know what shots we’re prioritizing today.
It’s controlled chaos, my day to run the show on the sidelines.
Exactly how I like it.
Except…
Halfway through my checklist, I feel myself start to sweat through my jacket.
I stop just inside the tunnel, bracing a hand on the cool concrete wall as another cramp twists through my stomach.
“You good?”
I look up to see Jaxon jogging by, helmet under his arm. He slows when he sees my face.
“You okay?” he asks, brow furrowing.
I force a smile. “Fine. Just game day nerves.”
He watches me for a second longer before nodding and heading into the locker room.
I take a slow breath and straighten up, adjusting my jacket.
Just a few more hours.
I can get through a few more hours.
By the second quarter, I’m seriously questioning that.
The cramps keep coming, worse now, sharp enough to make me clench my teeth. My lower back aches. My skin feels hot and sticky, and it’s getting harder to focus on the field.
That’s when it hits me.
Of course.
It’s just my period.
