Page 6

Chapter 5

Vs. DC

Sydney

W ith my first full week, long-term kindergarten sub gig at Blue Valley Elementary behind me, I make my way out to the Jeep and go over the highlights in my head while making a mental note so that I can catch up on my journaling tonight and tomorrow.

Room 104 is a chaotic wonderland of tiny chairs, around half moon tables, atop colorful rugs. On any given day, it could smell like Play-Doh, glue, disinfectant and yes, occasionally, vomit. The walls are covered in finger-painted masterpieces, letters spelling out the children’s names, and an alphabet train that winds around the room.

Kindergarten was definitely not on the choice of grade levels I wanted to teach, third through fifth where my preference, but the long-term sub opportunity doesn’t come with an option for preferences.

But seriously, they’ve been amazing. The boy who is named Bobby has a mop of curls on top of his head and a fascinating pet at home. Each day, he has a new story to tell me of what Speedy his pet turtle got up to the night before. Lola clings to my leg like a koala bear while her best friend, Gertie, still stares at me like I might be an imposter.

Little Dylan Donaldson will definitely be a lawyer or some sort of negotiator someday, because every day he attempts to change the classroom dynamics. Today it was, “Miss Sparks, can we have snack before circle time? My tummy says yes.”

To which I responded, “We’re gonna follow the schedule Mrs. Olson left us for now. We might revisit that next week.”

Circle time, which is my favorite time of the day, is a mix of giggles and wiggles, and today, we had a debate about whether dinosaurs could fit inside the school. Dinosaurs were not part of the educational planning schedule left for me, but as excited as they all got in the way they naturally thought deeper and deeper about how they could actually make one fit in the gymnasium, I remembered what it was I love about teaching in moments like that, moments when kids problem solve in a group and think deeper than a color-by-numbers worksheet.

Lunchtime is an Olympic-level event. I open applesauce pouches, peel bananas, and mediate a philosophical discussion on why Goldfish crackers are superior to pretzels. Someone spills their juice, someone else eats only the marshmallows from their Lucky Charms, which to me should not be considered a meal, and I will remember to keep a lookout to see if it’s a reoccurring situation. And then there is little Owen who every day has tried to convince me that the five-second rule was, in fact, real and his cookie was still okay to eat. I’m convinced he throws them on the floor just so we can have that discussion.

Recess, I’m herding a small army of bundled-up littles outside, in the freezing January air, and watch them scatter like puppies, unbothered by the cold. Lola refuses to touch the playground because there was a “mean squirrel” she saw before Christmas break, so she simply resumes her preferred stance—koala bear hugging my leg—as I basically run around for half an hour, picking up dropped mittens, loosening stuck zippers, and retying boots.

Then it’s back inside, where we always do an art project that involves way too much glitter, followed by what I call happy hour, where Miss Valentine, the preschoolers, and I sit in the doorway that connects our classrooms and talk about our day. And yes, she tells at least one story in those thirty minutes about something absolutely adorable that Lily Boone has done, while Lily gins at me from her rest mat on the floor.

At three p.m. today, when Dylan Donaldson, future lawyer, leaves, he tugs on my sleeve and whispers, “Miss Sparks, you did good, super good all week.” And he puts one of his gold stars on my hand, and of course, my heart melted.

Week one was a complete success, and I have high hopes for the next eight weeks.

“Tell me all about your week,” Maggie says when I walk into Sugar Rush.

“One down, eight to go.” I smile as I look around for Mom then hold up my hand, showing her the back with the gold star. “A future lawyer, or politician, told me I did super good all week .”

“That’s freaking adorable.”

“I know.” I sigh and then ask, “Where’s Mom?”

“She, my mom, and grandma went somewhere to meet Tessa.” Maggie grabs a piece of paper from her bag and sets it on the table. “Work release papers. I only have classes in the morning and can be out by eleven a.m. if you sign them saying I work here every day.”

“We’re only open Wednesday through Saturday.”

“True.” She bats her lashes at me. “But with the game on Sunday being in DC, we’re gonna get home late. I could come in Monday and Tuesday to load the machines up to keep inventory ahead.”

“Aunt Kendall okay with it?” I ask.

“She is.”

“Sounds good.” I sign the paper. “Just remember, I work at the school now, so make sure you tell me when you’re working in case they ask.”

“You got it,” she says as she walks over to put the paper in her bag. “Are you upset I’m here alone?”

“No.” I laugh. “Of course not. I trust you, Mags.” I notice a white G-wagon pulling up front and groan when I see Sienna Gaines climbing out of the driver’s seat. “As a matter of fact, I trust you so much I’m going to head upstairs to change and you can deal with?—”

“Oh, hell no, do not leave me with her.” Maggie links her arm through mine, stopping me.

“If you do not let go of me, I’m gonna fire you,” I whisper as the door open and Sienna walks in.

“You would never,” she whispers.

“Hey ladies,” Senna singsongs as she walks in and looks around. “My man told me how adorable this place was. I can’t believe I’ve never stopped in here.”

Her husband has never once stopped in here, but whatever.

“It’s pretty new. We just opened a couple months ago,” I say with almost zero inflection in my voice.

“Well, little Jay is turning five next month, and he’s always had a Chargers themed party, but now his daddy’s a Knight, so I was thinking we should make that switch.” She turns and looks at one on the display cases. “These are gorgeous. Black and gold, I think I can get behind those colors.”

“Universal.” Maggie smiles as she walks behind the counter and grabs an order form, slides it across the glass, and says, “Just let us know what you need and when you need it.”

“Perfect. I think I’ll take this with me, but I …” She turns and looks at me. “Can I chat with you real quick?”

“Sure.”

She glances at Maggie. “Somewhere a little more private?”

“Oh no, this is fine. She’ll just tell me, anyway. In Blue Valley, we’re all fam—literally.” Maggie stands beside me with her arms crossed.

“Right. Of course, I see the resemblance.” She looks us both up and down.

Maggie looks at me. “Did she just fat shame us? What was it, Big Girl Barbie?”

I bite back a laugh.

“Oh no, that comment was about your hair and makeup. You look like a Barbie. It had nothing to do with your height or size,” Sienna excuses her shit behavior.

“I mean, perfect, because if it actually did, I would have to say something like maybe you should eat a fucking cupcake and you wouldn’t be so miserable.” Maggie looks at me and quips, “I bet her picture is next to hangry in the dictionary.”

“Oh, hell no, I came here to apologize to this one, not to be berated by you.” She points at Mags.

“You can see your way out.” I nod to the storefront. “And don’t you ever point at my seventeen-year-old cousin again. As a matter of fact, don’t you bother looking in her direction.”

“I had no idea she was a child.”

“Again, I feel like she’s body-shaming me.” Maggie sighs exaggeratedly.

“Is this how you treat customers? Maybe that’s why there’s not one person in this fucking store.”

The bells jingle on the door, and I glance over my shoulder and see Beau Boone walking into the store.

“What’s the good word, ladies?” he asks, as if he does not notice the tension in the room.

“I don’t know how you fools can live in this tiny-ass little town,” Sienna sputters as she storms past Boone and out the door.

“Have a good day,” Maggie calls after her then looks at Boone. “Dude, she’s a freaking bitch.”

“Spill the tea, ladies.” He sits down on one of the stools.

“Mags, that’s all you. I’m going to change.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Boone calls after me.

“Don’t take it personally,” I call back, and yes, I take my time changing so I don’t have to deal with all that hotness until Sunday.

F-Ex Field is packed. The energy is electric yet produces not a single degree rise in the temperature. Thousands of fans surround us, decked out in burgundy and gold, screaming as we make our way to our seats right behind the Knights, and hell yes, we’re repping our team with black and gold, loud and proud in a sea of hostile fans. The air is crisp, the floodlights shine down on the field, and the scent of stadium food lingers in the cold night air.

“Swear to God above we’ve all lost our minds,” I yell over the crowd at Riley, Lauren, Maggie, and Iz, my single ladies crew … well, all but Riley now that she’s rocking a ring and that little bump growing inside her will one day be visible. “It’s seven freaking degrees!”

“Welcome to winter.” Lauren laughs.

“Why do I feel like I’m being personally attacked by the wind right now?”

Teeth chattering, Riley answers, “Because you are. This DC wind has some serious beef with us.”

Lauren pulls her scarf up to her nose. “You know what’s funny? We could be watching this from the Brewery with the rest of Blue Valley, where there’s heat and nachos that don’t look and taste like ass.”

Shivering, I mutter, “I don’t even want to know how you know what ass tastes like.”

She elbows me as Maggie pulls out a stadium blanket. “But no , we had to come because, and I quote, ‘It’s the last game before playoffs, and we need to show up for the team.’”

Riley rolls her eyes. “I don’t recall saying it in those exact words.”

She did. She used them verbatim.

“I’m kind of thriving.” Izzy sips her hot chocolate like nothing’s wrong.

Riley shakes her head. “You have an actual heated blanket—your opinion is invalid.”

“I swear my toes don’t even feel like part of my body anymore.” Lauren pouts.

Maggie wiggles her fingers. “I think I lost feeling in my hands twenty minutes ago.”

“How the hell do you think you’re going to survive that awful reality show, Mags? Wilderness Warriors is no joke.” I pull an extra set of hand warmers from my parka pocket and hand them to her.

“You’re the best, Sid.” She grins.

Riley stands and claps. “Just think how good it’s gonna feel when we win and get to say, we showed!”

Lauren narrows her eyes at her sister. “Riley, if we lose, I’m never forgiving you for this.”

Izzy smiles. “But we’re making memories!”

“I’d rather be making hot chocolate … in my warm bed … with a heated blanket,” I admit to Maggie.

And in the blink of an eye, my mind changes as I watch them take the field. Not even going to lie, it’s sexy.

Riley leans forward, hands cupped around her mouth as our boys are lined up to kick. “ Let’s go, boys! ”

Lauren adjusts her beanie. “We need a strong first drive. No mistakes. No stupid penalties.”

Maggie clutches her team scarf like a security blanket. “I swear, if our defense doesn’t show up tonight, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

Izzy, already munching on nachos, nods. “Yeah, totally.”

The first two minutes, it’s like a pig you put lipstick on to make it look pretty, but it doesn’t do the trick.

DC scores first, and the crowd erupts. A guy in a burgundy and gold jersey in front of us turns around and smirks. “Gonna be a long night for you Knights’ fans. Haha.”

All we do is roll our eyes. we’re used to this shit.

But one of us, Riley, has not quite mastered the art of not confronting crazy.

“It’s cute you’re celebrating this early. Don’t worry; we’ll send you home crying by the fourth.”

Lauren side-eyes her. “Please don’t get us into a fight before halftime.”

Maggie groans. “Why do we always have to start slow?”

Izzy, unbothered, dips a chip in cheese. “At least we have snacks.”

The next drive is ours, and Hudson Hart makes the first touchdown. The five of us are on our feet, screaming because, of course, we are! A few home fans in front of us and grumble, but we don’t care.

“Our O-line is finally defrosted!”

Riley blows a kiss to the field. “That’s right, baby! Keep it coming!”

At the half, it’s tied fourteen to fourteen.

Huddled in line for drinks, happy to be in out of the cold, Riley asks, “Okay, best football movie ever—go.”

“ Remember the Titans ,” Lauren says, looking at her like she’s crazy. “ No contest.”

Maggie shakes her head. “ The Blind Side made me cry twice. The first time while watching the movie, the second time was when I found out that those behind it need to go straight to jail, and not collect two hundred dollars on the way.”

We all nod our agreement. “Facts.”

“I liked the one with Adam Sandler … what’s it called?” Izzy asks.

I smile. “ The Longest Yard .”

“Yeah, that one. So funny.” She grins.

I shrug. “All answers are respectable, but?—”

Together, Riley and I say. “— Any Given Sunday is hands down the best.”

The game is again tied with two minutes left. The home crowd is so freaking loud, booing our team as they drive down the field. Boone has the ball tucked in tight, and I am on the edge of my seat, I cover my eyes when he gets taken down.

Lauren is locked in. “Clock management!”

Riley yells, “Trucker, what the hell? Call the damn timeout! What are we doing ?”

“Oh my God, I cannot even watch. I just can’t.” I cover my eyes, my fingers spread far enough so that I am not missing a second of this game.

And when #21, my old fantasy man, snatches the ball out of midair, in the end zone, well … two defenders bring him down hard, and I swear the wind is knocked out of me.

Get up, Boone , I think. You gotta get up. Lily’s watching you. She needs her daddy to get up . Lindsey’s watching you. Get up and show her how strong you are, dammit .

Hart is peeling bodies off the pile on top of him in the end zone, and I’m still holding my breath. Why isn’t he getting up? But then, in typical Beau Boone fashion, he springs up, ball tight to his chest, smile as big as the day. He holds it up in the air and points to the screen, and I can see him mouth, “ That one’s for you, little flower .”

And that, my friends is the sound of a million ovaries exploding across the world, even broken-ass ones like mine.

Sweet tea and baby Jesus, that man is fine, fine, fine.

Our section explodes. Riley is high-fiving strangers. Lauren is fist-pumping. Izzy and Maggie are both recording for their socials.

The home fans are silent. The mouthy asshats in front of us? Gone.

Riley smirks. “Told you we’d send you home crying.”

As the final whistle blows and the Knights have secured the win, we throw our arms around each other, screaming, “Playoffs, baby!”

It must have taken forever for the team to get back to the private plane because I was asleep and didn’t wake up until we were in the air. Eyes still closed, I try to let the hum of the plane lull me back to sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.

Something has me opening my eyes and looking to my left. The cabin is dimly lit, and most of the passengers are asleep, but not the person beside me, scrolling through his phone, the lazy smile on his face. And that person is not Maggie, who was sitting beside me when I fell asleep.

Boone is sitting beside me, legs sprawled out, his broad shoulders barely contained by the leather seat. His black hoodie is pulled up over his head, but you can still see the sharp angles of his jaw, the faint stubble along his chin. One big hand rests on his knee, fingers tapping absently against his sweatpants, as he turns his phone screen over and places it on his leg. His eyes—deep blue, shadowed with fatigue—stare straight ahead, unfocused, like he’s replaying every snap, every hit, every moment of the game in his head. The sleeves of his hoodie are pushed up to his forearms, revealing taped-up fingers from the game, pinky to the middle all look bruised.

I shift, and the leather creaks beneath me, causing him to look my way. “You good?”

He exhales through his nose, slow, controlled, like he’s shaking off the weight of the game, but as this is Boone, he smirks, voice low and rough as he asks, “You tell me.”

Rolling my eyes, I reply, “You looked like a beast out there.”

He chuckles—low, quiet, and tired. “That was the goal.”

A beat of silence. We both stare out the window, the endless stretch of sky swallowing up the light. Boone shifts beside me, rolling his shoulder like he’s trying to shake out the stiffness and pain from that last play, the winning touchdown.

“How bad does it hurt?”

He smirks again, but this time, it’s softer, more honest. “I can handle it. It’s why I make the big bucks.”

I catch the way his fingers flex like the pain is settling in now that the game-day adrenaline is gone.

I reach into my bag and pull out a bottle of ibuprofen. “Take three of these, and then nothing for eight hours.”

His finger traces my palm as he takes the pills. “Keep that up, and I might start thinking you actually like me.”

I scoff, pulling my hand back, but there’s warmth curling in my chest. “Just need you healthy for playoffs.”

He grins now—lazy, tired, but real. “Yeah, yeah. You and all of BV.”

As I close my eyes to try to … I don’t know … ignore the fact he’s next to me, I feel his knee tap mine.

“Just a little four-one-one, I do like you, and I know damn well you like me, too. We’re friends, Sydney Sparks. Have been from the jump.”

I refuse to open my eyes, but I do feel a smile tug at my lips.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about.”

The flight? Under two hours but felt like a hundred as I sat, eyes closed, faking sleep the whole time, wondering how the hell I ended up partnerless on the flight home. We’re all cousins, but Riley and Lauren are sisters, and Izzy and Maggie are the closest in age, so I’m the odd man out, which is fine. It’s no different than when I’m with Harper, or Ava, or London. They’re all married with children. I’m always kind of that odd duck in every situation. I always have been. It never really bothered me before, but right now, sitting next to Beau, all man spread out, his knee against mine, it’s driving me crazy, and he’s off limits now. And since there’s no taking the edge off of this when I get home, I’m a little—no, a lot—on edge. Tomorrow, I need to make a list to get back on track, and we’re not even two weeks into the new year … The top of that list will be to find a new fantasy man and do it in a hurry.