Page 24 of The Wrong Game

The guy who caused the drama gloated, crossing his thick arms over his chest with a satisfied smirk. I wanted to wipe it off with my fist, but suddenly, Janet and Roy stood up in a unified motion.

Janet glared at the man, putting one arm around Gemma and holding her shoulders high. “It’s the fourth quarter and we need to rally and win this thing.” She looked at the crowd around us. “What do you say we cheer these boys to the finish?” And then, she glared pointedly at the man again. “On our feet.”

The security guard’s eyebrows shot into his hairline at Janet’s spunk, and like a slow, misshapen wave, everyone in that angry, pudgy man’s row started to stand.

And then the row with the Bills family.

And then our row.

Until the entire section that could overhear what was happening was on their feet.

“Welp,” the Bills kid said, still holding up his phone to record. “Looks like majority rules.”

Everyone clapped and cheered, and though I didn’t think it was possible, the man’s face reddened even more. He swiped his beer out of the holder and stormed past the security guard and up the stairs, dodging popcorn and napkins being tossed at him on his way up.

The Bills kid high-fived me, tucking his phone away as I climbed back over my seat. A timeout was called on the field as Gemma looked up at me, her lips pulled to one side as her eyes sparkled under the stadium lights.

“What?” I asked, reaching for my beer.

“You were going to fight that guy for me.”

“You think so, huh?” I took a drink. “Maybe I was just going to sit back and watch you fight your own battle.”

She shook her head, little nose scrunching up again. “You were going to lay him out and get thrown out of the home opener game just to defend my honor.”

“You upset about it?”

Gemma paused, eyes bouncing between mine like she was trying to find answers to some question she hadn’t even asked yet. “No,” she finally said. “I’m a little surprised by it, though.”

“What, I don’t look like the type who will stick up for his girl?”

She bit her lip, teeth rolling over the pink-stained skin as she fought a grin. “I guess chivalry isn’t completely dead.”

“Not tonight, it isn’t, princess.”

The way she was looking at me, I wanted her to watch me all night long. I wanted those eyes on me when the final whistle blew, when the door to her house closed behind us, when that tight, burnt-orange tank top was on her floor and those long, tan legs were hooked over my shoulders.

But those emerald pools ripped away at the sound of the ball being snapped, and as if nothing had even happened, all eyes were back on the field.

The game ended less than twenty minutes later to the tune of the Bears pulling a touchdown out of their ass and sealing their first regular season victory with a two-point conversion.

Gemma jumped into my arms as the entire stadium went nuts, and a roar far too deep and, if I was being honest, a tad bit terrifying, ripped from that little lady’s throat like she was a linebacker on the team and not a five-foot-two fan in section 124. But I couldn’t find it in me to do anything other than laugh.

At least, until we both realized she was in my arms.

One of her hands hooked around my neck while the other fist pumped into the air and high-fived every fan around her she could reach. Her legs were wrapped around me from where she’d jumped on me like a banshee, and when she finally turned to face me, chest heaving and smile splitting her face, we both stopped.

Time morphed, the roaring crowd around us dulled to something more of a distant whisper. The announcer went on, the celebration continued, but in that moment, all we could do was stand still.

And I felt it again.

I didn’t know what it was, what to call it, how to name it and classify it and file it away.

I only knew it was something. Something different. Somethingmore.

Gemma ran that free hand back through her hair, smile falling as her eyes landed on my lips, both of us breathing.

Both of us staring.