Page 18 of Flag On The Play (Gridiron Warriors #5)

FINLAY

N ova wasn’t kidding when she said this place had the best Chinese food in the city.

The second we walked in, the smell alone made my mouth water.

It’s small, tucked between a laundromat and some psychic who probably also sells fake IDs, but the second we sat down at a worn red booth, Nova looked completely at home.

“I’ve eaten here more times than I can count,” she says, smiling at the old menu like it’s an old friend. “After work, after breakups, after my mom would visit and drive me up the wall.” She laughs softly. “This place has seen me at my absolute worst.”

I lean forward, grinning. “So you’re saying it’s been well-tested.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

She orders without even glancing at the menu, and I follow her lead. Halfway through our drinks, the nostalgia creeps in.

“You remember when we were neighbors?” I ask, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “Before you guys moved over to that other neighborhood.”

Nova rolls her eyes with a smirk. “Yeah. Your parents had that giant pool that I wasn’t allowed to swim in after seven. My mom thought it would ‘make my hair fall out’ or some shit.”

I laugh, hard. “Right? My parents used to sit out there drinking wine with your mom, talking about the other neighbors, and meanwhile you and I were stuck inside, staring out the window like we were grounded.”

She grins, reaching for her water. “Honestly, the highlight of those nights was your mom’s nachos. My mom would try to one-up her by bringing those insane cupcakes no one ever actually wanted.”

“Oh my God,” I groan. “The ones with the edible glitter?”

Nova throws her head back and laughs. “And the chocolate sprinkles that were actually tiny licorice pieces? Criminal.”

We’re both laughing loud enough that the old couple a few tables down gives us a look. I don’t care. Being here with her, like this, it’s easy. Fun. But then the laughter fades, and the memory shifts.

“It’s wild,” I say, twirling my straw in my drink. “We went from being friends as kids to basically hating each other in high school.”

Nova arches a brow and quirks her lips. “Well, that’s because you turned into a cocky prick.”

I feign offense. “Turned into? I was born this way.”

She shakes her head, but her eyes soften. I reach across the table and take her hand. Just a small movement, simple and steady, but her fingers curve around mine without hesitation.

The mood changes. It softens as my heart pounds in my chest.

“I’m sorry, Nova.” My voice is low, but sincere. “For how I treated you back then. For pushing you away. For letting other people’s opinions matter more than what I knew was real. You didn’t deserve that.”

She’s quiet for a moment, her thumb brushing gently against mine.

“I hated you,” she whispers with a small laugh, no venom behind it. “But I also still noticed every single time you looked at me. Even when you pretended not to.”

My throat tightens because I remember those moments. The ones where I looked but didn’t speak. Where I saw her, even when I was pretending not to.

“As much as I hate to admit it,” she says, eyes locked on mine, “I believe you.”

The words hit me in a place I didn’t expect. Not just forgiveness but trust.

I squeeze her hand and give her a crooked smile. “Guess I’ve got a lot of ground to make up for.”

Nova smiles, soft and sure. “Good thing I like a man who’s willing to work for it.”

We finish up dinner, but I’m not ready for the night to end. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for it to end.

It’s late, but the air is cool and the park is lit by the soft golden glow of the lampposts. Nova slips her arm through mine, her fingers laced with mine like they’ve always belonged there.

We walk slowly, no rush to be anywhere but here.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into walking through Central Park in heels,” she says, glancing down at her boots and wrinkling her nose. “If I break my ankle, you’re carrying me home.”

I smirk, pulling her a little closer. “I’d carry you even if you didn’t break anything. Princess treatment, remember?”

She rolls her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitch. “God, you’re lucky you’re hot.”

“Correction. You’re lucky I’m hot,” I fire back. “Otherwise, this entire night would just be a walk with a guy you used to hate who eats lo mein like a savage.”

Nova laughs, that real kind of laugh that crinkles her nose and lights up her entire face. “You do eat lo mein like a savage. I’ve never seen someone inhale food that fast.”

“I was carb loading for this walk,” I deadpan.

“Oh, right. Because a twenty-minute stroll is such a workout.”

“It is when you’re with a woman who walks like she’s in a damn runway show,” I mutter, and she gives my arm a playful smack.

We reach a quieter stretch of the path where the sounds of the city fade into the distance. Trees hang low above us, casting shadows that feel oddly intimate. I glance down at her and find her already watching me, her expression unreadable but full of something that hits me deep in the chest.

“You look like you’re thinking,” I say softly.

“I am,” she murmurs. “I’m thinking that it’s weird how natural this feels. Like we didn’t waste years pretending we didn’t know each other. Like we didn’t miss things we shouldn’t have.”

There’s a pause, and I slow our steps.

“I think,” I say, voice a little rougher now, “that we had to take the long way to get here. But this? Right now? This feels like the part we got right.”

Nova exhales, like she was holding it, and finally let it out.

We stop walking entirely, standing under a canopy of trees where the streetlights don’t quite reach. I brush a hand along her jaw, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” I tell her, honestly. Quietly. “You matter too much.”

She tilts her head, leaning into my touch, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Then don’t.”

I lean in and kiss her, slow and soft at first, the kind of kiss that steals your breath because of what it means, not just what it feels like.

But then she presses closer to me, and I deepen it. One hand on her waist, the other sliding into her hair.

This isn’t a kiss that ends in uncertainty. It’s the kind that tells you everything. That promises more. That says you’re home, even when you're still standing in the middle of the city that never sleeps.

When we finally break apart, she rests her forehead against mine.

“That,” she says, breathless. “Was a lot more romantic than I expected from a cocky quarterback.”

I grin, brushing my thumb along her cheek. “I’ve got more plays than you think, Wilde.”

She lifts a brow. “I swear if you turn that into a football metaphor, I’m walking out of here.”

I laugh, pulling her back into my side as we start walking again.

No football metaphors. No more missed chances. Just her. And this.

Exactly where I want to be.