Page 28 of Fair Catch
And promptly cheered when our guys took down the returner at their twenty-yard line.
They ran an impressive drive. Even with their timeouts already spent and not being able to get out of bounds to stop the clock, they were able to score again — but not with enough time to get the ball back again. We took a knee, running out the last twenty-two seconds, and that was that.
We won.
I jogged out onto the field with the rest of the team, shaking the hands of opposing players while reporters shoved microphones and cameras in my face. We’d been trained for this, and still, the sheer amount of chaos had my heart pounding more than it had all game.
“Remember your training!” Giana shouted at each of us as she ran through the crowd, curly hair bouncing as she did.
I stopped to talk to a few of the reporters, all the while keeping an eye on Riley as she was swarmed in the same manner. She was much smaller than the rest of us, and I could see the panic in her eyes as the space around her filled, the air becoming thinner.
After a few more questions, I shoved through the crowd, stopping long enough to grab Holden in a hug and clap hands with a few members on defense before I swept in and picked Riley up onto my shoulders.
“Whoa!”
She yelped, hands flying up in surprise before they gripped my head tight to catch her balance. I waited for her to smack me and tell me to put her down, but surprisingly, she let me carry her all the way back into the tunnel before protesting that I drop her.
As I did, I took full advantage of the moment, making the descent slow and holding her hips firmly in my hands as her body dragged down the length of mine. She was warm and shaky as I held her, her hands fixed on my shoulders and her eyes skating to mine as I gently sat her feet back on the ground.
Both of our breaths were shallow, but I didn’t know if it was from the game or the media frenzy or something else entirely.
Riley’s hands still gripped my jersey, eyes fixed somewhere around my jaw as little puffs of air escaped her lips.
Then, she shoved me back hard.
“What was that?!”
“A free ride out of the media circus,” I said, tapping her nose. “You’re welcome.”
She swung at me, but I dodged it, jogging off toward the locker room with her on my heels.
“That was…”
“Overwhelming?” I asked.
“Yes,” she agreed, but then her lips spread into a satisfied smile. “And incredible.”
I only had time to smile in return before more players crowded in around us, breaking us apart, and we all filed into the locker room, peeling off pads and jerseys as we went. Music was blasted as soon as Ramirez made it to his Bluetooth speaker, and Robbins was already live-streaming with half the offensive line gathered around him to have their shot on camera.
Kyle hooked an arm around Riley’s neck as she passed, spinning her toward the camera, and even she couldn’t help but play along for a minute before shoving Kyle off with a smile and heading for her locker.
I watched her drop her helmet, struggling to get her pads and jersey off and taking her tank top halfway up in the process. She yanked it back down to cover her stomach once she was free from her jersey, and then she stood there in a daze, her lips curling up as she shook her head in disbelief.
But me?
I wasn’t surprised at all.
You did it, Mighty Mouse.
Riley
“Are you just going to set a new PR every time you play a game?” Gavin teased me one evening in late September, his grin mischievous on my laptop screen. “First, twenty-two yards. Then, twenty-nine against Rochester. And now, thirty-one against our rivals?”
I smiled through the mounting pressure that came over me with every stat he recited, eyes falling to the neon highlighters and flashcards on my desk. “Don’t get used to it. That last kick… it was almost a miss.”
“But it wasn’t.”
“No, but—”
“It wasn’t,” my twin repeated, waiting until I met his gaze on the screen before he continued. “You’re playing damn good, sis, and you know it. It’s okay to be proud of that.”
I sighed. “I don’t know why… I’m mostly scared of it.”
“That’s normal.”
“Doesn’t feel normal. Zeke doesn’t seem scared of anything. None of the other players do, really.”
“Zeke is a mutant. And every other guy feels the pressure just like you do whether they show it or not. Trust me.”
I nodded, but the motion felt weak. The season was in full swing now, and with three wins under our belt and our second home game coming up this weekend, I somehow felt more sick than relieved by our record — and mine. I hadn’t missed a field goal or extra point yet.
