Quarterback Sneak (Red Zone Rivals #3)(80)

The second they dropped my feet to the ground, we were surrounded by reporters, all the while families poured onto the field, too. I answered questions as best I could through my excitement, though I was frequently interrupted by a teammate jumping on my back or scooping me up in their arms. We were chaotic, too ecstatic to even pretend to be professional for the cameras.

We were East Conference Champions.

And we had earned our chance to fight for the national championship title.

The trophy ceremony happened so fast it was a blur, each of us taking turns holding the shiny gold thing and kissing it like it was the love of our life as Coach Lee gave a little speech. When we were released, the reporters swarmed again.

I was doing my best to lean in and hear the questions a young male reporter from College Sports Network was screaming at me over the noise when I was yanked from behind. One hand on my shoulder whipped me around, and then I was crushed in a bear hug by my Uncle Kevin.

“You fucking did it!” he screamed, clapping me hard on the back. He released me only so Uncle Nathan could pull me in, too, and I felt the cameras all around us, knew they’d be showing this on TV and talking about my family’s backstory.

“Hell of a game!” Nathan yelled. They were both wearing my jersey number on handmade hoodies, their faces painted, a crumpled-up sign in Nathan’s hands that I was sure they held up the entire time.

Kevin turned me back toward him, framing my arms in his hands. He dropped his forehead to mine. “I’m damn proud of you, Holden. Damn proud.”

I brought him in for another crushing hug, mostly so I wouldn’t cry on national fucking television. Then, they released me and told me they’d see me back at the hotel.

We didn’t say a time because all three of us knew tonight would be a long one for me.

As soon as they were gone, I scanned the crowd for Julep.

She was the only person I wanted to see, and yet she was the only one I couldn’t find. I saw Coach as Clay and Zeke poured a giant container of ice-cold Gatorade over his head. I saw Leo making out with the cheerleader he’d been chasing after all season. I saw JB and the rest of the training staff, Coach Hoover and his family, even Kyle where he was holding up his phone — no doubt on Instagram Live.

But no Julep.

My heart sank, and I started shoving through the crowd, hoping I could find her in the locker room. Before I took two steps, Giana hooked me by the arm.

“I need you in the press room!”

“Okay, I just need to—”

“No, now!” She shook her head. “It’ll only be ten minutes max. Please, Holden. Wrangling these reporters is like herding cats, but they’ll go where the quarterback goes.”

Begrudgingly, I let her drag me off the field, and sure as shit, reporters followed us, allowing the rest of the team a bit of reprieve.

As soon as she had me set up a mic at the podium, Giana left — no doubt to go get the next players lined up and ready to answer questions. Her boss, Charlotte, watched me from the side of the stage. She listened to whoever was in her earpiece and then gave me the thumbs up to start taking questions.

It was an out-of-body experience.

I’d see a hand shoot up, and I’d point at it, signaling for whoever the reporter was to fire off their question.

“How does it feel to win your first playoff bowl game?”

“It feels amazing, but I knew this win was ours. This team has been focused all season long. We’re ready to take the championship.”

“At the end of the half, you were down by two touchdowns. How did you manage to rally the team and get them back in the game?”

“We never left it. CLU is tough, they’re one of the best in the nation — we all know that. They gave us hell out of the gate, and we expected it. The key was just coming back in the second half and giving them hell right back. And that’s what we did.”

“You’ve been battling an injury all season. Did it flare up at all in today’s game?”

“I’m feeling one hundred and ten percent thanks to our training staff. My shoulder is better than it’s ever been.”

Question after question pelted me, and after fifteen minutes or so, I was exhausted. That amount of time doing anything else would be nothing, but in this situation, it felt like an eternity.

I called on the next reporter, anxious for Giana to relieve me and send in the next player.

A woman in a bright orange blazer stood, a legal pad and pen in one hand as she yelled, “You’ve said in past interviews that your biggest goal is to win the championship and then be drafted into the NFL — which, at this point, I think we’re all sure will happen. So, what happens next? If you win the big game and you get called up to play pro, what’s next for Holden Moore?”

I opened my mouth to shoot back some generic answer, but before I could, a lifetime of possibility flashed before my eyes.

It was like her question had shocked me out of the present and into a future where everything I wanted came true.

I saw our team holding up the trophy, saw my uncles smiling when my name was called in the draft. I pictured signing on the dotted line, imagined what hat I’d slip on — maybe the Colts, staying on the East Coast, or maybe I’d go west with the Seahawks.

And through every step of my vision, there was Julep.

She was in my arms after the final whistle at the championship game, her legs wrapped around me as I kissed her, and confetti covered us both. She was holding my hand as we waited for the phone to ring on draft day. She was lugging boxes with me into our new place, kissing my sweaty cheek before pointing to where she wanted me to set up her pole.