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“Visualize,” Coach says over the music. “See the win. It’s there. Yours. Already.”
It happens slowly, heads bobbing to the heavy beat. It draws us together, makes us form a huddle. Then we’re jumping, one mass of bodies feeling the same rhythm, same beat, same mind. We are one. When the refrain hits, a bunch of them shout it out, “Woah-oh.”
Energy flows through us, vibrating with the bass. The power of eighty guys jumping in unison shakes the floor. The music fades, and it’s just us, revving up. My heart pounds, my body pulled tight with anticipation. That tension within us reaches its peak, and as if we’d planned it we roar as one, “Go, Red Dogs!”
* * *
Ivy
“God, I’m nervous,” Anna says at my side. “And Drew isn’t even playing. I don’t know how you deal with this.”
Third quarter and the score is 35-30, and our team is the one down.
Fi shrugs. “I deal by people watching and hitting the buffet.” She nods toward the impressive buffet spread at the back of the luxury box we’re sitting in.
Anna laughs. “I used to cater that buffet spread. Well, not that one, but you know what I mean.”
I’m trying not to notice the buffet because my stomach is rolling. Is it nerves or morning sickness? I don’t know. Aside from slight fatigue and breast tenderness, I haven’t had any pregnancy symptoms. It’s early, so I’m guessing they’ll develop. My fingers are cold too, so maybe it is nerves. I take a bracing breath. “They’ll win.”
“Of course they will.” Anna nods then glances at me. “You’re looking a little peaked. You want me to get you a ginger ale?”
“Yeah, that would be great, thanks.” From the corner of my eye, I see my dad chatting with the university’s athletic director, and a tinge of guilt hits me that my friends know about the pregnancy but my parents do not. One thing at a time. Bowl game, then confess to the parents. Yay.
Leaning back in my chair, I wave the big foam finger Fi gave me back and forth to get some air movement. It’s freaking hot in here and too confining. I cast a longing glance at the stadium seats below. I want to be out there where it’s nice and open. But Anna, Fi, and I are all up here with my dad, the university staff, and a couple of boosters.
I watch Gray take the field again. He’s not hard to miss, towering above most of his teammates, the number eighty-eight clear on his wide back. Football uniforms aren’t exactly sexy. Pads and helmets obscure a lot. But the pants? Shining red Lycra lovingly covers Gray’s tight ass, which is now currently displayed on the multiple flat screens along the suite wall as the cameras zoom in on his team’s huddle. I have to smile; if Gray were here, he’d be making tight-end jokes.
He looks focused now. They have plenty of time, but I know Gray won’t be complacent. He’ll push and fight for every inch gained. Always will. His confidence on the field borders on cocky. Only he never shows off, he simply plays with his whole heart.
Anna comes back with my soda, and I take a grateful sip. The ginger ale is ice cold and fizzy. But it doesn’t shake off the growing nausea. If this keeps up, I’m going to give up a good chunk of this game to the porcelain goddess. Grimacing, I run a hand along my aching neck.
Oppressive heat swarms up my body. Saliva coats my mouth and sends my stomach churning. Setting aside my soda, I stand up. My lower belly feels heavy, as if a bowling ball is rolling around in the small space between my hips. Queasiness rises within. The heaviness turns into clenching, and I rest a hand on my middle.
Faintly, I hear people talking. Someone is calling my name. But my innards are writhing too much to pay attention. The room swims in and out of focus, and my heart begins to pound. I need to get to the bathroom. The thought barely passes my mind when a violent cramp wrenches through me, knocking the air from my lungs. I double over, and a gush of slick, hot wetness flows between my legs.
“Ivy?” Anna’s voice comes at a distance, buzzing and indistinct.
Tears blur my eyes as I try to speak. Something is running down my legs. Blood. I lift my head, find Fi reaching for me.
“It’s bad,” I say through cold lips.
The room is spinning. Dad is suddenly at my side. “What the hell is wrong with her?”
Fi is whispering in his ear. He turns pale and glances down at my lap. He winces.
They’re moving me back, making a circle around me. The room fills with murmurs, gawking faces.
“Daddy,” I say. “I’m sorry.” I want to tell him I’m pregnant, but I don’t think I am anymore.
Someone calls for a doctor, and all I can say is, “Don’t tell Gray. Not now. Promise not to tell him yet.”
Fi’s hand is strong and warm on my icy one. “It’s okay, Ivy. It will all be okay.”
But I know it’s a lie.
Thirty-Three
Gray
Fourth quarter, third-and-ten with a minute on the clock, and my blood is pumping. There is a sharp, metallic scent in my nose. The crowded stadium buzzes around me, a dull hum at this point compared to the ringing in my ears. Every inch of me hurts, my bones aching, my joints throbbing. I’ve a gash on my knee that stings. Sweat runs into my eyes. And I wouldn’t change it. My entire body is alive and working to accomplish one thing: win this fucking game. One touchdown and we have it.
I head back to the huddle, and a defensive lineman shoulder-checks me as he passes, taking the moment to taunt, “Gonna bring you down, pussy boy.”
“I do love pussy,” I say, facing him while walking backward, my arms wide. “But yours smells a little off. Better get that checked.”