That Girl (That Girl, #1)(44)
All of a sudden, I feel a tug on my wrist and the sharp paint that always accompanies it.
“Oakley, let’s go,” Jewels yells while she holds my wrist.
Snapping out of my wonderment, I keep pace with Jewels as we weave and dart through the crowd. I finally see our section number and start putting together that each row is labeled with a letter, and then each seat is labeled with a number.
“We made it. Bam, baby!” Jewels cheers, throwing her hands up in the air.
Looking down at the seat, I see my name spelled out in thick Sharpie marker with Lincoln’s number under it and immediately recognize his writing. Next to my name is a large bag of blue cotton candy, my favorite food on the planet. I asked him the other day if a circus or carnival ever came to town, because I love, love cotton candy.
Cannons fire off, scaring the shit out of me. Looking up, I see white fog streaming up into the air, then the announcer takes over, and the crowd goes wild. A thumping song slams through the speakers, and I recognize it from Lincoln’s pregame tunes. Let’s Go.
Streams of players run out onto the field. Frantically, I scramble to find twenty-two, but my nerves and excitement take over, and I find myself jumping up and down with Jewels, screaming and cheering along with the fans.
“There he is,” I scream over the cheers when I finally spot Lincoln.
Lose Yourself by Eminem is pouring from the speakers, and I watch as the football players jump around, pounding on each other’s helmets and dancing in a circle. I know Lincoln is with his boys.
The coaches start to usher the players to the sidelines, while three players from each team go out to center field for the coin toss. As this is happening, I hear Lincoln’s voice explaining every single part of the game to me. I know exactly what’s going to happen next. The other team will call it, and depending who wins the toss, they get to pick whether they want to start on offense or defense. I know if Lincoln’s team wins the toss they will defer and let the defense take the field first.
“Damn, I know a lot about football,” I blurt out.
Jewel gives me a strange look and focuses on the field. Heath is on the sidelines grabbing a drink when they make eye contact, and she frantically waves at him. Heath, being the forever smartass, looks over his shoulder to see at whom she’s waving, then turns around and winks at her.
The crowd roars again when the referee announces we’ll be take defense first.
I hear voices around me cheer and praise the defense. “Can’t wait to see our big D this year. Coach said they’re the best he’s ever seen.”
I wish Lincoln could hear all the praise. His name is mentioned by several around me.
A stranger yells, “Stand up. Stand up!”
Momentarily confused, I turn to Jewels. “Why are we standing up?”
“Really, Miss Football 2014?”
Rolling my eyes, I reply, “Really.”
“You always stand and make lots of noise when the other team kicks the ball.”
I give Jewels a thumbs up and a smartass grin.
The fans go crazy when the ball is kicked, and then get even louder when the player is tackled. Number fifty-five takes him out; I try to wrack my brain remembering who he is.
“Was that good?” I ask. I’m assuming it was terrific because the crowd is still going wild.
“Yes, Oakley,” Jewel says, giving me a light jab in the ribs.
“Hey, I’m just nervous and forgetting stuff.”
Jewels laughs at me, and then says, “Well, you want our boys to tear off heads right now. All defense, baby.”
I’m not a praying girl, but dear God, please let Lincoln have the game of his life, and even more importantly, let him have the season of his life.
The reader board flashes the message, “GET LOUD,” and some of the defensive men are waving their hands up and down, signaling the crowd to get rowdy. Lincoln is on the field pacing back and forth in his spot, jumping up and down every once in a while. The other team takes their spot, and I start to freak out.
“O-M-G, Jewels, I can’t watch this. I’m sick. I think I’m going to puke,” I say, turning to head toward the bathroom.
She grabs my hand and shakes her head. I try to argue, but the ball is snapped, and the action comes alive on the field. My eyes instantly go to the quarterback to see if it’s going to be a run or a throw. He’s holding and looking. The ball goes up in the air for a long pass of over thirty yards. My eyes stay glued to the movement of the ball. In slow motion I see two white gloves extended in the air, and then the ball is brought down into a green jersey. The roar of the crowd is deafening, and I’m screaming right along with them. When my eyes zone in on the green jersey, there’s a twenty-two on it.
I grab Jewel’s shoulder and shout, “It’s Lincoln. It’s Lincoln. Run, f*cking run!”
Lincoln’s at the fifty, forty, thirty, busting through the other team’s offense while his boys do the best to block for him as he makes his way to the end zone. The twenty, the ten, TOUCHDOWN.
“Holy shit!” I scream and jump up on the top of my chair waving my cotton candy.
Jewels is up next to me jumping and shouting her head off. The big screen replays the score, and I watch it all again. Lincoln doesn’t dance or show off in the end zone. He’s scooped up by this teammates, and they all pat him on the helmet and back. Coach Uni runs on the field and hugs him. The crowd finally settles down enough for the kicker to make the extra point. I don’t watch to see if it goes through; I keep my eyes focused on Lincoln and study his movements.