Page 40 of The Wrong Game

Ben was focused on the field, and when he looked over at me, I smiled, leaning into him.

“You ready for your Lions to lose?” I sang.

He laughed. “We’ll see.”

Once his attention was back on the field, I glared at Zach again, waiting for an answer.

“I’m doing the same thing you are,” he said casually. “Watching the game.”

“Why are you watching the gamehere?”

He shrugged. “I told you, same as you.”

“No, not same as me,” I argued. “I have season passes.”

Zach smiled big enough to show his stupid dimple then, raising one brow like he was waiting for me to catch on. When I didn’t say anything, he leaned down, his breath hot on my ear. “So do I.”

“What?!”

I tried to whisper again, but I’d apparently failed. Ben cast a curious glance toward me first, before eyeing where Zach stood behind me. He put his arm around me possessively, tucking me into his side.

“Everything okay?”

His eyes were still on Zach’s, who was just grinning like a stupid, smug, son-of-a-bitch.

“Everything’s fine,” I clipped, focusing on the next play so Ben would do the same. We watched it together, me cheering and teasing him when we sacked the Lions’ quarterback. When the play was over, I leaned back toward Zach.

“How can you possibly have season passes,” I asked, gesturing to his seats. “Thoseseason passes.”

“Bought them from some friends,” Zach answered easily.

My jaw dropped then, and I turned to face him fully. “You bought their tickets from them?! Zach!” I smacked his arm. “How could you do that? They’ve had those seats forsixteen years,and season passes for twenty-two. How could you take that away from them? They could miss the playoffs, if we make it. All because of you!”

Zach was obviously not fazed by my outrage, because he just watched me like I was an adorable puppy. And when my rant was over, my chest still heaving, he tapped my nose with his pointer finger before aiming it up a few rows behind us.

I looked up where he was pointing, and there were Janet and Roy staring back at the two of us, Janet waving excitedly with a knowing smile as Roy sipped from his soda with a visible scowl.

“They have those seats, too. Remember?” Zach said, and when I was facing him again, he shrugged. “And they wanted to help.”

“Helpwhatexactly?”

“Help me get the girl. Obviously.”

I rolled my eyes with the loudest, most annoyed huff I could manage, crossing my arms and turning to face the field again. Ben eyed me, and I reached over to squeeze his hand. Everyone was starting to sit, now that the energy from kick-off had settled, and we followed suit.

For three full plays, I didn’t look at Zach. I didn’t acknowledge him. I tried to pretend he didn’t exist. But all my stupid brain could do was toss his words over and over in my head like some loud, wet sneakers in a clothes dryer.

“You’re wasting your time,” I finally whispered to him, snatching my beer from the holder.

“We’ll see,” Zach mused, and he tapped the neck of his bottle to mine without asking, lifting his own bottle to his lips.

Before I could respond, our wide receiver made a catch, and my eyes snapped to the field. “Go!” I yelled. “Go, go, go!”

Everyone in our section was on their feet, cheering the receiver on as he ran toward the end zone our seats were at. He was taken down at our twenty, running the ball for a full thirty-two yards.

“Yes!” I was screaming, throwing high-fives around to everyone wearing a Bears shirt.

This.This was what I loved about being at the game, instead of watching from a bar or my couch. Everyone cheered together, and we were all invested.