Playing Hard to Get(99)

“We should go get hot chocolate,” Blair suggests as she stands, tucking her coat around her tightly. “I can’t sit here anymore. My butt is frozen and I’m too worried about this game.”

“Let’s go.” Natalie stands and I do too, following them down the steps and toward one of the concessions stands that are all over the stadium. The line at this one isn’t too terribly long and we make our way to the front quickly, ordering our drinks and Natalie ordering a hot dog with everything on it.

“Gross,” I tell her after she pays.

“Don’t judge my love for stadium hot dogs.” She sends me a look and I clamp my lips shut.

“No judgment.” She loves junk food more than the average person. She already ate nachos during the first quarter and I don’t doubt she’ll buy cotton candy during the last few minutes of the fourth.

“You’re not getting anything to eat?” Natalie asks Blair.

Blair shakes her head. “I’m too nervous to eat.”

“Me too,” I add.

“You’re that worried over your brother’s game?” Natalie lifts a single brow and I recognize that look.

She’s suspicious.

“Yeah.” Blair glances around as if she doesn’t want to meet Nat’s gaze. “It’s stressful.”

The guy behind the counter calls out Natalie’s name and we go pick up our hot chocolates while Natalie grabs her hot dog and a bunch of napkins.

“I’m going to go find my parents,” Blair tells us before she takes off, speed-walking away from us.

Natalie peeks inside the foil bag they packaged her hot dog in, a tiny smile playing upon her lips. “Ah, perfect.” Her head lifts, her shrewd gaze meeting mine. “That girl isn’t worried about her brother.”

I pop the lid off my drink, hot steam rising from the chocolate. That’s going to burn my tongue off, I just know it. “Right? Something is up.”

“Between her and someone whose name starts with C?” When I nod, she goes on, “Every game we go to, she watches him so closely, I’m afraid she’s going to start drooling.”

I snap the lid back on and clutch the hot cup between my hands, warming myself up. “I think I caught them doing—something.”

Natalie’s jaw drops. “What do you mean? Tell me now. You’ve been holding out.”

Laughing, I start walking, and she falls into step beside me, our heads bent close together as I explain to her what I witnessed at Knox’s apartment when I walked into the living room and they were both so frazzled.

“She even called him a prick,” I finish. “She was upset. And he wasn’t happy either.”

“Hmm, suspicious.”

We pause near the top of the stairwell that leads back down to our seats. “I agree. Something is going on, but I don’t know what. Should I mention it to Knox?”

“Probably. Or maybe not?” Natalie shrugs. “We don’t have concrete evidence, and it’s not really our place to tell.”

“It’s not yours, but it’s definitely mine.” I don’t want Knox mad at me for keeping this from him, but I also don’t want him pissed off when something comes out.

“This is on Blair, Jo. And Cam. If they’re fooling around in secret, it’s eventually going to come out.”

“True.”

We go back to our seats, and a few minutes later, Blair rejoins us. We’re still sipping on our hot chocolate, the three of us talking about nothing special, and eventually, the game starts back up. Thankfully, the team on the field now seems like a completely different group compared to how they were during the first half of the game. I can hear them yelling at each other in encouragement on the field, their breath sending steamy tendrils into the air. I can even make out the fierceness on their faces, despite the helmets, their determination to change this game obvious.

Within the first minute of the third quarter, Knox catches the ball and no one from the other team is around him. He takes advantage and starts running.

I’m on my feet in an instant, hopping up and down, screaming, Go Maguire, go! over and over again, Natalie and Blair joining me. He ends up running it all the way down the field and into the end zone, scoring their first touchdown of the game, and I’m beside myself with happiness.

It’s like this for the rest of the game. I forget that it’s freezing cold and that I was miserable the entire first half. Our team is electric on that field, their defensive line on fire, holding the other team back. We score two more touchdowns and a field goal, never letting them add to the scoreboard, and we win, 24-17. By the time the game is over, my throat is raw and my voice hoarse from all the yelling. I’m sweating, having ditched the coat a while ago, and I can’t stop stealing bites of the pink cotton candy Natalie bought midway through the fourth quarter.

She’s so predictable, my Nat.

“Thank God they won,” Blair says, her voice dripping with relief. “It would’ve been a miserable night hanging out with the fam and an angry Knox.”

“What are you guys doing after the game? Going out with your parents?”

“Yeah, I’m leaving the game with my parents and we’re having dinner at the hotel. There’s a nice restaurant there and it’ll be very low-key. You’re going right?” Blair asks.