Page 163 of Off Camera
The line goes dead, and I curse him out under my breath.
“He’s so obnoxious,” I say to Maven, but when I turn around, I’m totally alone. “Mae?”
I blink, then the scoreboard lights up. Reid’s face takes over the screen, and I stare at him, flabbergasted.
“Hey,” he says, talking to the camera and starting a livestream on the Titans account. “My name is Reid Duncan, and for the last twelve years, I’ve been the social media admin for the DC Titans. You might know me from the videos I post. The memes I create and the captions I spend hours coming up with so you all laugh. I’ve never shown my face before, but today felt like the day to change that.”
He pauses, and I walk closer to the screen.
“Almost five years ago, I got a notification that the Baltimore Thunderhawks’ official Instagram account followed the DC Titans’ account. In the moment, I didn’t think anything of it. I was out at dinner with some friends and ignored the alert. Which is funny, because that’s the day my life changed.” He smiles and holds up a phone. “That follow turned into a direct message. A short and curt message from someone running the Thunderhawks account telling me to ‘delete this’ when I posted a comment about the Titans being the only decent mid-Atlantic NFL team.”
I burst out laughing. He had to scroll through years of barbs and jabs and comments to find that message, and I wonder how long it took him to find.
“Thus began our feud. I wanted nothing more in life than to destroy the woman behind the account,” Reid says, and he laughs.
“But then a funny thing happened. I fell in love with her instead. Slowly. Accidentally. Deliberately, now that I think about it. With every message. With every like. With every comment. With every late-night conversation that felt a lot like fighting, I lost my mind for this woman. And she’s the total package. I’m talking smart. I’m talking knowledgeable about football. I’m talking smoking hot. I’m talking someone who likes to wear heels and Air Jordans and makes them both look good.”
I blush at his compliment and see the number of viewers watching steadily increasing. We’re well past the thousands and pushing five digits. The comment section is flooded with people chiming in, and the attention makes me squirm.
“I know what you’re all wondering: what the hell is this nerd doing talking about love on a football account? Because, as silly as it is, this account brought me the most important person in my life. It brought me my dream girl. The person I’ve waited a very long time for. I thought I had it before, but I realizethisis what I was looking for.”
I wipe my eyes.
I wish he was here.
I wish I could see him and hold him and tell him how much I love him too.
“And now—you know what? Fuck it. I’ll be back.”
Reid stands and disappears. I frown when Maverick takes over the frame, a wide smile on his face and a shiny silver ring on his left hand.
That’s new.
“I’m Maverick,” he says, waving to the camera. “And I love romance novels. My buddies do too, and this is what we call the grand fucking gesture. If you’re—Dallas. What the hell are you doing?”
“I don’t know. Reid told us we had to follow him, and we’re already behind. Let’s go, Miller.”
“Shit.” Maverick picks up the phone, and I’m graced with a shot of his sneakers. “Avery, if you’re watching this, you’re supposed to go to the end zone. The one to the right. No. The left. Wait. Which is it?”
“This is why your job was to hold the phone, not give instructions.” Dallas’s face appears, and he looks irritated as hell. “The home end zone, Avery,” he says, and the screen goes blank.
“What the hell?” I jog across the turf, the grass still wet from the late-morning humidity. I cross the forty and the thirty. I get closer to the end zone, and that’s when I see another duck sitting on the uprights, right in the middle of the goal posts.
I shake the goal posts and nothing happens. I try kicking it, using the heel of my high-top sneaker to ram into the metal, and the duck finally falls. When I turn it over, I see a single word, and I stop breathing. I thought it might be leading to this point, but now I’m sure.
Marry.
“There’s no Will,” Reid says from behind me, and I turn around to face him. He’s on one knee, a velvet box in his hand and his eyes on me. “Only me. I hope that’s okay.”
“What—” I sniff and look down at him. “What are you doing?”
“Tying my shoe. What does it look like I’m doing, Sinclair?” he teases. “How much of that video did you hear?”
“All of it,” I whisper. “Every word.”
“Good. Then you’ll know I’m serious when I say the day you messaged me for the first time was the best day of my life. But then I met you at a bar, and that was the best day of my life. And again at a wedding. And again six months ago and again yesterday. Somehow, I keep having thesebest days of my lifewith you, Ave, and I know it’s because you’re it for me. You’re always going to be it for me, and I want to keep doing this life thing with you. I know you’re starting a new job. I know you have your eyes set on the next project that’s bigger than what you created in Baltimore, and I want you to know I’m going to follow you. Wherever it is, I’m going too. I love you with my whole heart, baby, and with every fiber of my being. Will you marry me?”
I’m in his arms before he can finish asking the question. He laughs and holds me to his chest, his heart beating as fast as mine.
