Page 61 of Gator
“You sure your sister won’t mind me tagging along?” I asked, mostly to hear him talk.
“Mind? She’s the one who called to make sure I was bringing you. Said Yaya’s birthday doesn’t count asmeeting someonebecause there were fifty people and three cakes.”
I chuckled. “She’s got a point. Hard to have a real conversation when your grandma’s threatening to cut folks for the last piece of chocolate.”
He laughed, but I kept one hand loose on the wheel, attention flicking to the rearview mirror every few seconds. Old habit. The kind that doesn’t go away, even when you want it to. I hadn’t seen any of the men who’d been tailing Julius lately, but that didn’t mean they weren’t out there. I’d be damned if something happened on my watch.
We turned into the gravel lot beside the high school, headlights sweeping over rows of trucks and cars plastered with team decals. It took a few minutes to find a parking spot, but once we did, we got out and headed for the entrance.
The stadium lights blazed white against the twilight, and the sound of the marching band rolled out over the field—bright and a little off-key, but full of heart.
Miranda was easy to spot near the gate, waving one arm and balancing a tote bag with the other. Same smile as Julius, same spark in her eyes.
“There’s my favorite brother!” she called as we walked up.
“I’m youronlybrother,” Julius said, pulling her into a hug.
“Still counts.” She turned to me with a grin. “Hey, Gator. Good to see you again. You’ve recovered from the birthday party and meeting the whole family?”
“Barely,” I said, shaking her hand. “Your grandmother is something else.”
She laughed. “She is, but she really liked you.”
As we headed for the stands, I automatically scanned the lot—checking faces, noting which vehicles had their lights off but engines still warm. Nothing jumped out at me, but my pulse stayed at a low thrum. Crowds were tricky. Too many moving parts.
The bleachers were packed, the smell of popcorn, nachos, and grass thick in the air. I took the outside seat, giving me a clear view of both the field and the exits. Julius shot me a knowing look.
The cheer squad lined up on the field, shouting out cheers, their pompoms flashing under the lights while they pumped up the crowd for the game ahead. Julius nudged me, pointing. “There she is.”
“She’s good,” I said, watching her nail a tumbling pass. “Got her uncle’s flair.”
Miranda laughed. “Lord help me if she does.”
The band struck up a drumline, and the cheerleaders sprinted downfield, ponytails flying, arms full of a giant sheet of butcher paper painted with the team colors. Across it, in bold blue letters, someone had scrawledGo Vipers! Beat Bellville!Thegirls stretched it tight between them, faces flushed and laughing as the crowd rose to its feet.
Julius leaned forward on the bleacher, elbows on his knees. “Watch this,” he said, grinning. “This is my favorite part.”
The tunnel of players at the far end of the field started bouncing in rhythm with the drums, helmets glinting under the lights. A second later, they burst forward as one—cleats pounding, coaches yelling—and the paper banner exploded in a cloud of confetti and cheers.
The stands went wild. Parents were on their feet, kids were screaming, and Miranda was whistling so loud I was half-surprised the referees didn’t throw a flag for it.
Julius whooped right along with them, his whole face lit up, pride spilling out of him like sunlight. I watched him for a beat longer than I should’ve, smiling to myself.
Someone bumped past in the aisle behind us, and instinct had my body tensing before I could stop it. My gaze flicked over my shoulder—just a dad juggling sodas and nachos—but the reflex was there all the same. I shifted slightly, putting myself between Julius and the steps until the guy moved on.
“You can unclench now, soldier,” Miranda said, her voice teasing but kind.
I huffed a quiet laugh. “Old habits die hard.”
“Yeah, well,” she said, nudging me with her elbow, “around here the only thing you’ve gotta worry about is running out of cheese sauce.”
Julius laughed, leaning into my side. “See? Totally safe. Even from condiment shortages.”
I shook my head, but couldn’t stop the grin. “Guess I’ll take your word for it.”
Still, I kept one eye on the crowd even as I sat back, the roar of the stands washing over us. It was easy to pretend, for a little while, that the world beyond these bleachers didn’t exist—just family, Friday night lights, and the boy who made every part of it worth guarding.
The crowd roared for a touchdown, and I found myself clapping along. Julius’s laughter carried over the noise, bright and warm. It was the first time I’d seen him truly relaxed in weeks, and that alone made the whole trip worth it.