Page 35 of Scoring Truth
The cameras follow him. His face is stoic, but I know inside, his adrenaline is pumping.
They flash to the stands, where I see Dash and Summer, Mark and Mackenzie, Jackson and Chess. I fall even more in love with them when I see them sitting in the stands instead of in the sports box.
And it proves just how down to earth they all are.
“Here he comes, ladies and gentlemen! The rookie quarterback we’ve been watching all season. What do you think, Joe? Do you think he’s experienced enough to lead his team today?”
“Two weeks ago, I’d say absolutely. But with the focus on his love life lately instead of the game itself, I have a feeling it may be a distraction for him.”
Oh, God. They’re going to talk about it.
Please don’t name me. Please don’t name me.
My friends glance at me but bring their attention right back to the television.
“You could be right. The All-American boy-next-door isn’t so sweet after all, is he?”
They’re laughing. “Looks like he learned a thing or two from his old coach.”
The camera zooms in on his family once again, specifically Jackson. And I remember what Francesca told me. “The papers are out for blood and money. They will twist and manipulate every little word to get the story that sells. Only read half of it and don’t believe any of it.”
“Well, Frank, Penelope Presley isn’t sitting with Winters’family, so maybe it was just a weekend thing, despite what his camp has been putting out. Looks like Rent-a-Date went wrong.”
I slink into my chair and want the whole thing to disappear.
26
JAMESON
We’re standing shoulder to shoulder along the sideline as the national anthem begins to play. The feeling of being here with my team while eighty thousand people cheer us on is so overwhelming that I don’t know whether to cry, smile, or pass out.
Add in the grand gesture I’m about to pull off, and my brain is working overtime.
I don’t know for sure that Penelope is watching, but I can assume she is. And if she isn’t, her girls are. I made sure of it.
I asked Francesca to make a call to them and let them know it’s something they wouldn’t want to miss. I know there’s no way they would have gotten her to the game without a fight, so I’ll settle for letting her see me on national television, and then I’ll fly straight to her tonight.
Hopefully.
We won the coin toss and chose to receive first. The game begins, and the crowd is so deafening that I’m having a tough time hearing my team. And they can’t hear me. We look sloppy, and the coaches aren’t happy.
We huddle up, and my voice is hoarse from screaming over the crowd.
“We know our plays! We know each other! Just go out there like it’s practice, and let’s do this! We need a TD here, fellas. Give it to me!” We clap, break, and get into formation. I’m behind my center, ready to receive the ball, and my mind flashes back to Penelope and me in the hotel room.
Fuck.
I miss her.
“White 80! Comets! Comets!” I take the ball, back pedal a few steps, and move to my right. Spotting Connor open yards away, I launch the ball to him. He catches it seamlessly, turns and runs for the end zone.
“Go! Go!” He steps away, crosses over, and the stadium erupts. I follow him and jump into the pile.
“Fuck, yeah! That’s how you do it!”
Sitting in the locker room with the team during halftime, my nerves haven’t settled. We’re leading 21-7, but that means nothing. We still have an entire half left to play, and our opponents are going to come out hungry.
But not before I get my say.
