Page 18

The Alchemy – Taylor Swift

Addie

Maren: Hi, Addie! Welcome to the club.

Maren: We kicked Declan out.

Maren: You’re much cooler.

Nathalie: Please don’t tell him we made this, he will get jealous and pester me to add him.

Sawyer: STAY STRONG.

Maren: Does Nora have any plans on Sunday?

Me: She’s with a babysitter since we have a home game.

Nathalie: Can you cancel the sitter?

Sawyer: We’d like to take her to the game with us, if it’s okay with you.

Maren: We’re kinda obsessed with her.

Nathalie: We wanted to ask before we get another ticket.

Me: How much are the tickets?

Sawyer: Oh, don’t worry about that!

Maren: No cost associated. We just want some time with Nora. It’s selfish, really.

Me: I can ask Nora if she’s interested.

I asked. She’s very excited.

Thank you.

Sawyer: What size shirt does she wear?

Sawyer: She can’t go to a game without a jersey.

Me: She only wears princess dresses. It’s a point of contention in our household.

Nathalie: Maren is very persuasive. Got her to put on overalls.

Me: She looked adorable in those. Haven’t been able to get her to wear them since.

Sawyer: Should we keep this a secret?

Nathalie: YES! He will be so surprised.

Maren: I love scheming.

Sawyer: He has a way of knowing things…

Me: What are we keeping a secret? Nora’s overalls?

Nathalie: Not telling Declan that Nora is going to the game.

Me: Oh. Uh, yeah. Let's keep it a secret.

T he air in the stadium hums with crackling energy as fans fill in and take their seats. Players warm up on the field as music filters through the sound system, and I work to set up tables and electrolyte stations.

A hot puff of air hits my ear as I fill the squeeze bottles with water.

“You look hot as fuck in a polo,” Declan whispers, hand trailing along the curve of my spine.

My lip tips up at the corner, but I focus on my task. He moves around me, bends down, and puts his head right into my line of sight.

His deep blue eyes sparkle, and his smile morphs into something playful. “Playing hard to get, Adeline?”

“Just trying to work.”

I’ve avoided him all morning. I am not the best at keeping secrets, and if he corners me, it will inevitably come out that Nora is in the stands with his friends, and that she’s spent all week talking about how excited she is to see him.

I don’t think she particularly cares about football, but she loves Declan.

And she's thrilled to show him the poster she's spent hours working on.

“I’m not going to be able to focus today with how great your ass looks in those leggings,” he whispers. I choke on spit, and he offers a smug smile.

The thin navy Seattle Mavericks t-shirt he wears pulls taut against his wide shoulders, and it loosens around his narrow waist. He leans against an equipment cart while I fight the blush creeping up my neck.

A battle wages inside of me—the urge to fluster him and stay professional while at work.

The rules are surprisingly relaxed within the organization, and as long as we complete several release forms, you can engage in romantic relationships.

I signed the papers with HR after our first date, and while it’s not a secret I went on a date with Declan, it’s also not common knowledge, and a small part of me doesn’t want anyone to believe I’m unprofessional.

His eyes drop to my lips, and his gaze heats.

I take a step toward him, and his throat bobs.

It’s been so long since I’ve felt the desire building in my lower stomach, but I fall into the sensation and close the space between us. He’s only a few inches taller than me, so we’re nearly at eye level when I whisper, “And what would you do to get me out of these leggings?”

His jaw falls open slightly. “Just about anything,” he admits, his voice rough like gravel, “I would get on my knees right now .”

The conviction in my eyes tells me that one word, and he would drop to his knees in front of the entire stadium. A wave of confidence washes over me.

“Is that so?” I pause, nerves swirling in my chest, “Maybe you can show me sometime.”

“Time and place, Adeline.”

I pat between his biceps. His muscles twitch beneath my touch, and I subtly drag my palm down his torso. He sucks in a sharp breath.

“Find me after the game in the family room.”

I widen the space between us, and the assistant coaches corral players back to the locker room to prepare for the game.

He offers one more lingering glance before he jogs away. Halfway down the field, he spins around and blows a kiss.

My stomach flutters with anticipation.

Nora’s attendance at the game isn’t the only surprise.

She’s also spending the night with Henry and Sawyer.

We’re finally going to have a night alone.

There’s a somber aura upon entering the locker room, and I do my best to ignore the way it suffocates while we pass out grapes and gel pouches to players. Jack takes a beef stick and nods gratefully, but the remainder of the room is quiet.

I slip into the back corner as Coach Barrett enters the room.

Dozens of heads fall to look at the ground.

Down by seventeen at half isn’t an impossible comeback, but it’s not great, especially not from a team projected to make it far into the playoffs.

“I don’t think I even need to say anything,” Coach Barrett says to the room, “You all know the way you need to play, and it’s not happening.” He sighs when fewer players meet his gaze. “The game isn’t over, so pick your heads up and find the fuel you need to win the game.”

Deon stands. “Rae had a great stop on defense.” He nods at the defensive tackle. “Defense is working their asses off to keep us in the game. We need to match that energy.”

He looks at Henry and Declan, who both look disappointed in themselves. I would be a liar if I said they’re playing well. They’ve let the Los Angeles defense walk all over them, and it shows in the morale of the players.

The offensive coordinator discusses shifts in the play calling and how they’re going to tackle the second half, and when the halftime comes to an end, the energy in the room is better, but not great.

“Play with your hearts, and the rest will come,” Coach Barrett says before leading the team out of the locker room.

The crowd cheers as the team takes the field for the second half, and Ben and I jog behind the group with the trays of water bottles.

Declan’s shoulders are curled inward on the sideline. There’s something wrong with the frown on his face.

I want the cocky smile back. I run over to him, take his hand, and drag him toward the stands.

He needs a pick-me-up, and I know just the person.

I don’t want to dissect how deeply they’ve rooted into each other’s souls so quickly, or how delusional and hopeful it makes me to know she’s important to him.

“Addie,” he protests, but allows me to guide him.

When we stand in front of section twenty two, I turn to him and cup his face in my hands. “I don’t know why you’re in a funk, or how to get you out of it.” He draws his lips between his teeth and averts his gaze.“But there’s someone in the stands cheering for you . ”

His brows furrow, but then, as if on cue, Nora screams his name, and I get to witness the way his eyes brighten and a smile of pure joy forms on his face from the sound of my daughter's voice.

I release him and he sprints over to the concrete wall where Maren dangles Nora over the side. Her tiara nearly tips off her head, but she rights it and smudges the eye black on her cheeks. A miniature version of Declan’s jersey covers the top half of her princess dress.

Seems like Maren won half the battle.

I stand off to the side, and give Declan the moment with Nora, and when he presses onto his toes and readjusts her tiara, I melt into a puddle.

A thought strikes me like a rogue lightning bolt. They look just like each other.

The dark hair and bright blue eyes. The soft, pale skin and high cheekbones. Nora looks like his daughter, and for one insane moment, I allow myself to daydream about a reality where, just maybe, we were a family.

He waves me over, and once I’m close enough, his hand slips into the curve of my waist and pulls me against his side.

“Thank you,” he whispers, eyes glassy with tears.

“I made you a sign!” Nora yells over the roar of the crowd. She lifts the large poster board we bought at the craft store. It’s covered in glitter and stickers which surround the words, “Decy is the best ever!”

I asked her if she wanted to add ‘football player’, but she shook her head and said, with conviction, “He’s just the best.”

“It’s wonderful, Nora,” he praises softly, and she beams with joy.

“Let’s get back to our seats,” Maren says, then winks at me.

Nora waves goodbye and drags her poster back to her seat. I turn to Declan, and the gratitude in his gaze is overwhelming.

“You’ll never know exactly how much this moment means to me.”

The thing is, I think I do.

We aren’t the same, but we’re parallels. Two people with fucked up family situations desperate to find somewhere to fit; someone to call home. And as we spend more time together, one thing has become clear: Making a home with Declan could be so easy.

As the offense lines up on the line of scrimmage for the first play of the second half, Declan looks over and winks.

He plays the best game of his life, and the Mavericks win by one touchdown.

A Hail Mary.

It lands in Declan’s hands, and after he crosses into the end zone, he runs to the sidelines and hands the ball to Nora.

It’s a moment I wish I could sketch, so it would last forever.