Page 28 of Her New Billionaire Bosshole (The Billionaire’s Bidding #2)
ELLIOT
“ N ow,” Rhett says, reclining in his seat, a beer in his hand. “ This is a VIP lounge!”
I have to agree. This is by far the nicest VIP seating area I’ve been to. We’re completely enclosed in a box up above the field, watching the sprinklers go off. To my left is a fully stocked bar, only available for people with these tickets, and a buffet table is to the right.
And yet, there’s something about this that feels a little too VIP. I miss being immersed in the cheering, chanting, singing.
Steven drops down next to me with a plate of shrimp, and gives me a toothy smile. “Thanks for the tickets, suit-and-tie.”
“I don’t think you guys can call me that anymore.”
My complaints go unheard, because the sprinklers have stopped, and down below on the field, the players are lining up for the national anthem. We stand with the rest of the stadium, then sit and watch as the players are announced, the starting lineups running out onto the field.
I watch, holding my breath, until they get to the end.
“Damn,” Rhett says, when it’s done, and they alternate to announcing Orlando’s lineup. “Can’t believe she’s really not going to start Athens.”
Running my hand over my chin, I think about the conversation Sophie and I had when she couldn’t fall asleep last night, then bite the corner of my mouth to keep from smiling.
The players regroup, then set up, spreading out. I find Sophie on the field, already walking back and forth, and I just know she has too much energy cooped up inside her to keep still.
The whistle blows, we kick first, and the Women’s Soccer Championship has begun. The entire stadium is on its feet, cheering and whistling, watching as Dallas draws the ball back, setting up the offense and bringing it down the field.
“Good pressure straightaway,” Rhett says, when we get it down near the goal, shoot, but get blocked by the goalie.
One minute later, exactly two minutes into the game, the stadium erupts into cheers, going so loud that we can hear it even up here, the volume shaking the box.
And it’s all because number six on Dallas, Lena Athens, is taking the field.
“Oh!” Steven says, leaping onto his feet and putting his hands to his head. “She’s coming out — oh shit !”
“Genius move!” Rhett agrees, and we watch on the Jumbotron as expressions of confusion cross the Orlando players’ faces, their eyes following Lena as she takes the field. “They’ve let their guard down!”
And he’s absolutely right, because two minutes later, after a brutal fight for the ball at midfield, Simone Bernal rockets it to Lena, who takes it effortlessly, floating through the defenders with her excellent footwork, and blasting the ball through the hands of the goalie, directly into the net.
“ Yes !”
We’re on our feet, cheering and shouting, startling some of the other viewers in the VIP box.
“I take it I’m late?”
My cheering is interrupted by a guy with a face just like mine, standing behind me in a Dallas jersey.
“Brandon.” I wrap an arm around his neck pull him in. “You made it!”
“Just glad I got the ticket for free,” he says, giving me that sideways grin. “Otherwise, I’d be watching from the parking lot.”
My brother settles down next to me, and we watch as the game heads into halftime, Dallas ahead by one point.
“That your girl?” Brandon asks, pointing down toward Sophie, who’s talking quickly, gesturing, tapping her clipboard with her finger.
“Yeah,” I glance at him, unable to keep the smile from my face. “That’s my girl. She’s the best coach in this league.”
Brandon nods, smiles, and says, “Total truth.”
There are three minutes left in the game when Orlando manages to tie it up.
“Does that mean overtime?” Brandon asks, glancing between all of us, his eyebrows raised, and I get a glimpse of what I looked like when I came to that first game.
“Not necessarily,” Rhett says, bouncing from foot to foot. “It’s totally possible that either team could score again before the end of them match. Athens is known for performing under pressure like that.”
“What happens if it goes to overtime?”
“Technically, it’s called extra time in soccer, but they’ll do a fifteen-minute extra time, then another. If it’s still tied, it goes to penalty kicks.”
“So, a shoot-out?” Brandon asks, and when Rhett nods, we all turn back to the game, anxiety heightened. The game could go to anyone.
Yellow cards come out on the field, tensions rising as the players fight for control of the ball, Dallas working to bring the ball back down to Orlando’s goal. Angel Caruso goes down for Dallas, and we watch as her ankle is patched up.
Twenty seconds later, Orlando’s midfielder goes down, holding her leg, then limps to the side.
Play goes on. Two minutes left. The ball hovers in midfield, players dribbling fighting, passing and stealing. The box goes silent as we lean forward, watching, until Zara Santos breaks the ball away and swings it down the field.
We all stand, watching as the seconds tick down and the ball lands directly in front of Lena Athens, like it was delivered to her from heaven. She takes it, dribbling at full speed with ease, defenders trailing behind her but just unable to keep up.
It’s just her and the goalie. She swings out to the side and fires without a second thought.
Orlando’s goalie dives, hands out, gloves reaching, reaching for the ball — it hits her fingertips.
Then it spins, falls for a moment, and bounces into the net.
There’s a split second of hesitation, then the stadium erupts in applause, the sound of it once again shaking the glass, shaking the floor beneath us.
Rhett slams into me from the left, knocking me into Brandon, who laughs and stumbles, holding us both up.
“We’ve done it!” Steven yells, his voice booming through the box.
This time, we’re not the only ones celebrating, joined by the other fans in here, who jump around and stomp their feet, hugging one another.
A young girl has tears streaking down her face, and it actually chokes me up for a second, to know that Sophie was once that little girl, and maybe this little girl will be on that field someday.
“Congrats, bro,” Brandon says, clapping me on the back. “Now, can I meet the famous Sophie Kendall, or what?”