Page 57 of Red Zone Realizations
I take her hand. It’s warm and friendly, like her smile. “Audrey, nice to meet you. And this is my best friend Nicole.”
“She’s with Noah.” Chrissy blurts out before I can say I’m a guest of Noah.
“Happy to have you! It’s always more fun when the WAGs box is full.”
I scrunch my nose. “WAGs?”
“Wives and girlfriends,” Chrissy explains.
I turn to Nash. “Who’s your boyfriend?”
She waves me off. “Not boyfriend. Wyatt and I have been best friends since college.”
My brows shoot up my forehead. “I see.” I look at Chrissy who has a certain gleam in her eyes.
My cheeks redden. “Oh, I’m not. I mean, we haven’t talked about… we don’t have a label really.”
How do I explain my complicated relationship and my very real feelings for Noah in what’s left of halftime? It seems too daunting to even try.
Chrissy is happy to step in.
“Oh, buckle up for this made-for-TV movie.” Her eyes are alight. As much as Chrissy likes to talk and be in everyone’s business, I can tell it comes from a place of genuine care. “He made her bleed, took her to dinner, and then she hit him up for money.”
I balk and look at Nash. My mouth opens like a fish. “It’s not what it sounds like!” Chrissy breaks into a giggle fit. “I can explain!” I’m exasperated but there’s a smile on my face as I fill Nash in on what’s actually happened between me and Noah.
Nash’s back hits the stadium chair. “Wow, that’s crazy. So you’re up here right now hanging in the balance, not knowing what he will say when the game is over?”
My shoulders slump. “Basically. I’m shooting my shot. YOLO or whatever the kids are saying these days.”
The music blasts once again, signaling the end of halftime. We all get to our feet to cheer on the men as they return to the field. I can see Noah’s eyes taking in the stands, but I can’t tell if he sees me or not. Maybe it’s better that he doesn’t. For him or for me, I’m not sure.
The game carries on, I know the basics thanks toFriday Night Lights, but Nash explains the rest to me. She plays on a recreational flag football team, so she really knows her stuff. Cleveland gets the ball back at the half, but can’t convert on fourth down, so they punt. Noah runs back out with the offense, and we settle in to watch the possession.
The Hurricanes march down the field. They’ve got the Vultures defense on their heels and they aren’t letting up.
On the twenty-yard line, they line up for a go at the end zone.
Nash leans over to me, knowing this is my first football game. “They’re in the red zone now. If they don’t score here, they will have to punt it away to the other team, giving them another chance to score before the quarter is over.”
Noah is out wide. The ball is snapped, and Noah moves to block. Once the quarterback steps out of the pocket, he rolls off the block and out toward the sideline, wide open. Colin sees him and throws him a dart. Noah secures the catch and turns to run, toeing along the sideline toward the end zone. Nash, Chrissy, and I are all on our feet screaming. Just when I think Noah is going all the way, a safety comes out of the peripheraland gives chase. He’s trying to stay in bounds for more yards but is on his way out.
A second Vultures player slams into him. The crack echoes through the stadium. My cheer is stuck in my throat along with the contents of my stomach.
Next to me, Nash is irate. “What the fuck was that? Fucking dirty hit! Throw the fucking flag, ref!” A millisecond later, the yellow flag hits the grass. “Finally!”
Nash got what she wanted, but Noah hasn’t gotten up. He’s on the ground, face down, knees tucked under him. The shape of him slumped on the ground reminds me of child’s pose, and I can’t help but think about how months ago he was a stranger in a yoga class.
And now he’s everything.
He’s holding his chest. The replay starts on the Jumbotron, and I see that Cleveland player’s helmet hit him right at the bottom of the rib cage as Noah’s foot touches the line. “That hit was late as fuck!” Nash finishes.
The referee steps on to the field, turns his mic on, and holds his arms straight out. “Unsportsmanlike conduct. Number thirty-seven. Defense. Fifteen-yard penalty. First down.”
Noah still isn’t on his feet. Trainers surround him, leaning down to hear what he’s saying.
My eyes are wide as I look at Chrissy. She’s already looking back, reading the panic in my eyes. I don’t know what to do. Everything feels like too much. The lights are too bright, the music is too loud. I can’t think. I can’t focus. My heart is beating out of my chest, and tears sting my eyes. I’m not used to having someone I care about in danger like this. I’ve never seen the disparaging roughness of this game up close. I’m going to toss the literal cookies I ate before coming to thegame. Chrissy puts her hand on my arm, and I suck in a breath.
We watch as Noah gets up on his own. The teams clap as he walks off. I watch as he’s guided back through the tunnel by one of the training staff. I meet Chrissy’s concerned gaze with my wild one. “Where are they taking him?”
