#Hater (Hashtag #2) (11 page)

Romeo

The massive football field was empty and almost quiet.

The only sounds came from the crew working on the sidelines, making sure everything was in place and ready to go for the game.

It wouldn’t be long now that the stands would be filling up with people, music would be pumping through the air, and the sights and smells of a Saturday football game would fill the atmosphere.

In addition to the pre-game energy spilling out of the locker room, there was also an unspoken amount of nerves. This was a huge game for us. A win was a lot more than a trophy.

The school would get more money in grants. The prestige of this university as a whole would rise to the next level. And the Wolves… the Wolves would go down in Alpha U history.

We were ready. I felt it in my bones. We worked our asses off to get ready for this. I knew we could take the game. I wanted it.

I glanced over at the boxed section where I knew some of the NFL scouts would be sitting. I had a lot riding on this personally. Then I glanced down at the section near the field where I knew Rimmel would be sitting. I’d be able to see her from the sidelines.

The sight of her here supporting me meant more to me than she would ever know. My parents would be here too. They had box seats, just like most of my home games. They supported me; they always had. But Rimmel’s support was different.

It felt different.

It felt like I wasn’t just doing this for me anymore, but for her too.

I wanted to make her proud.

A heavy hand dropped onto my shoulder and Coach moved to stand beside me. We stood silently staring out at the field, which had been expertly cleared of snow. I knew from the fat flakes falling lazily from the sky that all the green stretched before us probably wouldn’t stay as pristine as it was now.

“You’re ready for this.” Coach spoke beside me, not taking his eyes off the green.

“The whole team is.” I agreed.

Coach cleared his throat. “You’re a damn fine player, Anderson. The respect you have for the game and the determination you show on the field isn’t something I see very often among players.”

“Thanks,” I said, not knowing what else to say to a compliment like that.

“You’re the backbone of this team. I just wanted to tell you before the game that I’m proud of you. That won’t change even if we don’t bring home the trophy today.”

Some of the tension and nerves coiled inside me eased. I pulled my eyes from the field and looked at Coach. He was dressed in a pair of golden-yellow pants and a navy Wolves jersey with
Coach O’Connor
across the back. A whistle hung around his neck and a baseball hat with the team logo (slashing claws) was pulled down over his head.

“We’re going to bring home that trophy,” I said, determined.

He smiled. “I figured you’d say that.”

“Guess I better go get everyone riled up.”

“You do that,” Coach said, turning back to the field. “I’m just gonna stand here a few more minutes. The quiet before a game is a good time to reflect.”

I left him in peace and pushed into the locker room. The guys were rowdy and loud, ribbing each other and getting their gear ready.

I took a minute to take it all in just like I’d done out on the field. For some reason, I felt like things were changing, that these kinds of moments were fleeting.

My endgame had always been the NFL, and I would jump at the chance to get there. But even so, the memory of college football would always be a defining time in my life. It was moments like these that made me remember what football was all about.

“Yo, where you at, pretty boy?” Braeden hollered and came around the corner.

I grinned and he laughed. “You ready for today?” he said and hooked me around the neck with his arm and tried to bend me down so he could mess up my hair.

“Hells yeah,” I said, dodging his attempt.

The guys that were around us all starting trading insults, so we joined in until the sound of music cut through the laughter.

Some old song about how the guy singing was too sexy burst through the noise, and we all started to laugh. “B-man!” someone shouted a row over. “Phone’s ringing.”

Braeden sauntered off in the direction of his phone, and I followed along behind him, talking to some of the guys as I went. Trent and I exchanged nods and fist bumps.

When I came around the corner, I zeroed in on the fact that everything about Braeden had changed. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and all the muscles in his back were bunched up, tightened. He was hunched around the phone and had a finger pressed in his opposite ear so he could hear better.

Something was wrong.

I walked over to his side and was about to ask what was up when he said, “Hey, man, I’ll be right back. Cover for me.”

“Sure thing,” I said as he walked off with his phone.

It struck me as odd. Who would be calling him right before a big game that he would actually take the call and leave the locker room to speak with?

I hoped nothing was wrong.

It made me think about Rimmel. Maybe I should check up on her. Or at least check my messages.

I rummaged through my jacket pockets and pulled out my phone. Before I could check the screen, a couple guys came over to talk plays with me, and I gave them my full attention. When they were gone, I lifted the phone to light up the screen.

Braeden appeared beside me and grabbed the phone. “Hey, hey,” he said. “What’s this? No phones before the game. We gotta get in the zone!”

“Says the man who just took a call.”

He shrugged. “I had to take a call.”

“And I need to check on Rimmel.”

Something passed behind his eyes, and I felt my own narrow on his face. My phone went off in his hand, and I reached for it. He held it out and glanced at the screen.

“Speak of the devil.”

I took the phone and looked down at the text. The three words she sent made me smile.

“See,” Braeden said. “Look at you getting all soft. Turn that thing off before you turn into a diaper-wearing, bottle-sucking pansy ass before the game.”

I laughed and shot off a reply to Rim, then hit the power button. “Happy now?”

“Hells yeah,” Braeden said and set his phone back in his locker.

I noticed
he
didn’t shut his off.

Coach’s voice boomed through the locker room. “Suit up. Let’s go warm up!”

My stomach jumped with excitement. It was almost game time.

When we were all suited up and everyone was filing out onto the field, I realized I left the dog tag Rimmel gave me in my locker. I rushed back in to pull it over my head and tuck it beneath all my pads.

On my way past Braeden’s locker, my footsteps hesitated. Something was up.

Without another thought, I opened his locker and reached for his phone. I pulled up the recent history in his call log and stared down at the most recent call.

It had been Rimmel.

“Yo!” Trent called from the front of the room.

“Coming!” I yelled back and shoved the phone back where it had been.

As I jogged out to join the team on the field, all I could think about was what Braeden hadn’t told me.

Why the hell had Rimmel called him?

What didn’t I know?

Rimmel

By the third quarter of the game, I started to relax.

Romeo was dominating the field. He was totally in the zone and it was nothing short of amazing to see.

My chest swelled with pride every time I looked at him.

He’d thrown four touchdowns right into the end zone. Perfect straight throws that literally sailed right into his teammates’ hands. When he wasn’t throwing touchdowns, he was throwing complete passes that gave the Wolves an edge and had them ahead on the scoreboard.

The rest of the team was on fire as well. They worked as a unit, as a whole. It was like they knew each other so well they could anticipate each other’s moves before they made them.

I guess all those hours upon hours of practicing and being together was totally paying off.

I had been nothing but a bundle of nerves and anxiety as I was getting ready for the game. I checked my phone constantly for cryptic texts and every Buzz notification. There was one that sent me into a cold sweat, and I prayed Romeo hadn’t seen it.

But judging by the way he was playing, he hadn’t.

I was able to relax a little during the first half of the game, but when halftime rolled around, I started to worry again. What if someone said something to him in the locker room? What if he turned on his phone and saw the Buzz?

He might not realize it was about me, but what if he did?

Once halftime was over and the team rushed out onto the sidelines, I knew it was okay. Romeo looked over to where my friends and I were sitting and smiled.

I gave him a thumbs-up and smiled.

As the players settled back into the game, I signaled for a new apple cider. The one I’d gotten earlier had grown cold. My stomach had been so knotted I wasn’t able to drink it. But as the vendor handed over a new steaming cup, I knew this one I would get to enjoy.

My face was so cold my cheeks had grown numb and even with my fur-lined boots, my toes were cold and feeling a little stiff. I was dressed in a pair of thick black leggings, thick cream-colored socks that came all the way to my knees, a long-sleeved T-shirt, a flannel, and Romeo’s hoodie over top.

I’d even added a pair of purple mittens and a purple knit beanie. Beneath it, I wore my hair down, hoping the length would provide an extra layer of warmth. I tried to curl it in those loose curls Ivy made look so easy.

I burned my forehead and my ear before I gave up.

The result was partially curled hair.

It was good I was wearing a hat. It kept my poor attempt at a hairstyle covered. As usual, I was wearing my glasses and not a stitch of makeup (except Chapstick).

Beside me, Ivy and Missy looked as cute as ever in jeans, boots, and trendy coats that looked like capes. Missy was wearing a pair of leopard-print gloves (that girl liked her animal print) and Ivy was wearing a pair of white mittens that looked like sweaters.

Both of them wore expertly applied makeup and looked far too good for two ladies who stayed up most of the night partying.

The crowd began chanting Romeo’s number, and I clapped as he ran out on the field with his other teammates.

I glanced up at the large screen that was showing random shots of the people in the stands and close-up shots of the game. Romeo’s image filled the picture and people began to cheer. Even on screen and with a helmet on his head, the effect of his blue eyes was absolute.

I couldn’t wait to be with him tonight. Even though I stayed with him last night, it still felt like forever since I’d seen him. It made me angry that what was supposed to be an entire night of celebration and fun was going to be interrupted by me having to tell him about Zach.

“You okay?” Ivy said, leaning over to speak into my ear.

I glanced at her. “Of course. Why?”

She shrugged. “You just seem a little off… kind of quiet.”

“I’m always quiet,” I pointed out and then sipped at the cider.

“I know something’s going on,” she said pointedly. “I’ve heard some rumors flying around.”

Everyone around us went wild and jumped to their feet. I looked up to see that Romeo had thrown yet another perfect pass right into the end zone.

I jumped to my feet and yelled and screamed along with everyone else. I laughed when Braeden launched himself at Romeo and he caught him. Braeden banged on Romeo’s helmet in celebration as the pair showed quite a bit of their bromance out there on the field.

I made a mental note to tease Braeden about it later.

Once the crowd quieted down, Ivy looked at me again.

“I’ll explain later,” I said, hoping she would let it go.

“You can tell me at the party tonight.”

I half nodded and took another sip of the cider to keep from having to commit.

A few plays later and the Wolves intercepted the ball from the other team, and the crowd went wild again.

My eyes followed the large twenty-four on the back of Romeo’s jersey as he ran out on the field to make the offensive play.

A few moments later, the ball was snapped into his capable hands, and I marveled at how it managed to look small when he gripped it.

He held the ball as he scanned for an opening to make the pass. When he found where he was going, he drew his arm back, ready to launch what I knew would be another perfect throw.

I watched the ball spiral through the air, toward its target. The player caught the ball and ran it down the field.

People were yelling and cheering.

And then they weren’t.

“Oh my God!” Ivy screamed, and her fingers dug into my arm.

Even though the Wolves just scored another touchdown, the stadium fell eerily quiet.

A sick feeling twisted the pit of my stomach, and my eyes sought out Romeo. But he wasn’t where he was supposed to be.

Instead, there was a player lying on the ground, splayed out beneath another player from the opposing team.

My chest tightened when several of the Wolves lunged at the player and pulled him off. Braeden shoved the guy back with so much aggression that he stumbled.

Referees swarmed the situation, and I heard the blowing of several whistles.

Everything slowed for me.

Romeo lay on the field, flat on his back.

Unmoving.

Still.

“What’s going on?” I mumbled, my brain unable to process what I was seeing.

“That guy from the other team plowed into Romeo after he threw the ball. It looked deliberate. Like he wanted to take him out of the game.”

“Look!” Missy said, grabbing my arm and pulling my attention off the field and up to the giant screen.

They were playing back what had happened.

Tears filled my eyes and blurred my vision as I watched Romeo, who hadn’t seen it coming, tackled and roughly shoved into the ground.

“No,” I whispered. Why would someone want to hurt him like that?

Because he was too good. He was playing so well that it was embarrassing the other team.

The Wolves, the coach, and one of the refs crowded around Romeo, and when I looked, I could no longer see him. But I knew he was still lying there.

What if he was hurt?

What if something was broken?

Before I knew what I was doing, I was out of my seat and rushing up toward the railing that divided the seats from the field. I had to make sure he was okay. I couldn’t just sit here and watch him lie there in pain.

I heard my name called, but I ignored it as I flung my leg over the top railing and prepared to hoist myself over.

One of the guys working security happened to see me and he rushed over and ordered me to stop.

“I can’t. That’s my…” My voice broke. I couldn’t force the word boyfriend between my lips. It just wasn’t enough. It just didn’t describe how desperate I was to get to him.

“He’s my everything,” I finished.

The security guard gave me a grim look. “You can’t come on the field.”

A lone tear tracked its way down my cheek, and I craned my neck. Frustrated, I glanced up at the big screen to see if it was showing a different angle.

But they weren’t playing Romeo. They were focused on me.

I blinked at the site of me half straddling the railing and the security guard standing there with a grim look on his face as he stared me down. My cheeks were red, behind my glasses, my eyes wild.

I turned away from the screen, irritated that they weren’t focused on Romeo.

I glanced at the guard. “I’m coming over.”

He crossed his arms over his chest as if to say,
I dare you.

I flung my other leg over so I was balanced on the bottom rung.

“This is your last warning,” the guard shouted.

The crowd started to cheer and go wild. Romeo’s number started filling the air. I looked up.

He was okay!

He was on his feet, helmet in hand, and laughing at something Braeden was saying. Beside him, the coach looked relieved, and all the Wolves were clapping.

The guy who’d mowed him down was being escorted off the field.

Jackass.

Relief made me weak and a sob caught in my throat. I sagged back against the cold metal of the rails. The guard gestured for backup, and a few others that were dressed just like him started my way.

I mean, really. He was being a bit dramatic. I was only one girl. And a small one at that.

Ivy came up behind me and grabbed at my shoulders. “Are you insane?” she shouted. “Get back over here.”

“I just wanted to be sure he was okay.”

“He is,” she replied. “Now come on!”

I started to turn back when the guard grabbed my ankle. “You’re going to need to come with me,” he intoned.

The crowd started going crazy. Like even crazier than when Romeo got up from the hit. I was clinging to the railing, wondering if I would like prison, when Ivy sighed. “I swear. You have all the luck.”

Confused, I glanced around. Romeo was jogging toward us, helmet in his hands.

Quickly, I glanced at the big screen and it was showing a wide shot of me clinging onto the rails and him running toward us.

When he arrived, he slapped the guard on his back and said something in his ear. The guard looked at me and grinned and then walked away.

Romeo stepped up to where I was. At the height I was at on the railing, for once I was taller than him.

“You’re killing me, Smalls,” he said. “I had to interrupt a championship game to keep you from going to the slammer.”

“I was worried. You didn’t get up.”

“And so you were just going to march out on the field and what?”

God, he looked so… so incredible right then. His uniform stretched out over his wide shoulders and narrow waist. The pads strapped to his body made him look even stronger. He had grass stains on his knees, sweat in his hair, and ornery laughter in his sparkling blue eyes.

I swear I’d never seen anyone equal parts of to-die-for good looks and boy-next-door troublemaker.

“I was going to come out there and kiss it and make it better.”

He threw back his head and laughed, and the stadium erupted once more. I was aware that every moment between us was being broadcast like some reality TV show, but for once, I didn’t care how many people were staring.

This was our moment.

And I was so damn happy he wasn’t hurt.

“So you’re okay, then?” I asked.

“Takes a lot more than a shady illegal attack to keep me down.”

Behind him, the players were getting back to the game, rushing out onto the field, and the coach was yelling out orders.

“I’ll just go back to my seat, then,” I said.

He rushed forward and grabbed me off the railing. The crowd cheered when he slid me down his body and pressed his lips to mine.

It wasn’t a chaste kiss. It was the kind of kiss that made me blush when I watched it on TV.

But I kissed him anyway. I got lost in him.