Page 35 of Overtime

“I lied, Falls,” Trevor wheezes. “Girls aren’t worth the trouble, no matter how hot they are.”

* * *

“My arms are gettingtired from holding up this damn poster board. Can she quit blubbering and say yes already?”

Mike’s whining only vaguely registers in my brain. As does the scene in the middle of the field where Alex’s latest flavor is crying. I’m not sure whether they’re happy tears, or she’s embarrassed about the spectacle created by a Promposal launched on the heels of the biggest Senior comeback win in Ironville Powder Puff history.

My sole focus is on the sweaty quarterback, standing on the sidelines and taking it all in.

The smile on her face doesn’t tell me enough. She might be happy for the win. She’s undoubtedly relieved the intensely physical game is over.

Her gaze settles on us coaches on the sidelines, bearing five poster boards over our heads which spell out, P-R-O-M-? The smile on her kissable lips grows ever so slightly, but she shakes her head like the whole thing is ridiculous.

Hmm. So, public scenes are a no?

Or, sporting event Promposals are tacky?

Maybe it’s the fact that there are more roses on the field than players on our team? Was that too much?

“Alex looks like he’s gonna puke,” Mike chuckles. “Did you set him up to fail on purpose?”

I tear my gaze away from Evie to check out the progress on the field. Sure enough, the girl is still standing there, looking dazed, holding her hands to her cheeks, and crying while Alex kneels in front of her. He looks…worried.

“Uh, no,” I cough out. “I honestly didn’t think Ashley would tell him no, regardless of the Promposal.”

“You realize Alex never would have gone to all this trouble, right? Maybe she knows that, and isn’t sure if she’s being pranked or not.”

Damn. Mike makes a valid point. I really hadn’t thought all the potential ramifications of this through. My main concern was finding out exactly what Evie wants.

The object of my every waking—and most of my sleeping—thoughts breaks through the din of the crowd with a shout. “Yes or no already! Give the poor guy a break!”

Alex shoots Evie an obviously grateful smile, which is promptly cut off by Ashley kneeling in front of him and throwing her arms around his neck.

And…it’s a yes.

I’d say mission successful, but the jury’s still out on that verdict.

I swear, my girlfriend is a tougher read than the defense against our arch rivals. Her current expression is one part “aww” and two parts “eew.”

“You’re going about this all wrong,” Mike mutters as he finally lowers the poster board and stretches out his arms. “It’s not about the presentation; it’s about the intention.”

Well, where was this wisdom a month ago when I first started freaking out about the only Promposal I’ll ever give? Mike brushed off my concerns and blatantly called me an idiot.

“You have no room to talk, Mitchell. You did a Disney-themed Promposal that was less than stellar.”

He smiles like my comeback is no more than a fly he’s about to squash. “Chelsie loves Disney stuff. Always has. I know this about her. We’ve actually thrown around the idea of going to Disney World during summer break before shipping off to State in the fall. That Promposal meant something to her. It wasn’t just asking her to go to a stupid dance. It showed her I know what she loves, and more importantly, reaffirmed our future together after graduation.”

Evie must have gotten a concussion on the field today. Since we’re so closely connected, I’m feeling the effects of her confusion by proxy. It’s the only rational explanation for the completely irrational story Mike just told me.

Don’t get me wrong. His idea has real merit. It’s just…not a very Mike thing to say.

Or maybe I never realized how committed he is to his relationship with Chelsie. He’s never even hinted at marriage and babies and all that stuff, not even to me or Alex.

Still, I need confirmation I didn’t simply hallucinate everything he just told me.

“Let me get this straight,” I hedge. “My Promposal for Evie should be something meaningful. Something that proves we have a future together. It doesn’t matter what or how I do it, so much as what I’m implying?”

Mike nods. “Yup.”

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