did it.
I finally got the girl.
Chapter 32
BLUE
One earbud is popped into my ear and the other’s hidden inside my hoodie. I’m tuned in to one of the major network’s coverage of the game, hearing all the predictions being made. Yes, many of those predictions are about the outcome of this state championship, and even about the future of the team as a whole, but mostly?
They’re talking about West.
Apparently, I’ve been living under a rock, because this is the first I’m hearing about his ‘Golden Arm’, as they call it. They speak about his accuracy, saying it’s rare to see such power and skill this early in a player’s football career.
There’s lots of talk about him going pro after college. Which has me thinking about his future, how so many will want a piece of him when he makes it. That’s how it is any time one star shines just a little brighter than the rest. Others do everything they can to get closer, hoping to steal even a glimmer of that shine.
But of all the things West has going for him, all I’ll ever ask for is his heart. That’ll never change.
Speaking of hearts, mine is in my throat. Guess that’s to be expected when the best of the best meet on the field. A true clash of Titans.
I’m on edge, right with the rest of the crowd, volleying a look between the scoreboard and West as both teams stand at the line of scrimmage.
Six seconds on the clock.
The players’ warm breath meets the cool air, puffing from their nostrils and mouths as this game comes to a head. Both sides have given their all, leaving it all out on the field today, but our boys are trailing by five points. This play is their last chance to make something happen, and the setup isn’t great.
I can’t see West’s expression from here, but I know how much football means to him. He’s got raw talent. So much that most people miss that there’s more to him than what he brings to the field. It’s knowing his passion for the game that I’m certain he’s not giving up easily. Even if some are already writing this off as a loss for our Panthers.
I move down a few rows of seating to snap a few photos with my phone, and even with such a close game, there’s still a fair amount of attention on me. Not sure when I’ve last seen a saltier group of girls in my life, but they’re out in full force today. From both, Cypress Prep and South Cypress High—West’s super fans, I’m sure.
They eye the jersey I’m sporting over my hoodie. No doubt glaring at the last name of their king embossed on the back.
Golden.
When he first asked me to wear it, I was hesitant because I foresaw it garnering this exact level of attention. Because I knew the message it would send.
That I, Blue Riley, am officially West’s girl.
But damn, who knew I’d like the sound of that so much?
Ignoring the many, many eyes I feel on me, I face the field again, trying not to panic.
“You’ve got this,” I whisper mostly to myself, but some small part of me believes West can feel me rooting for him. Even above all the others.
Sterling snaps the ball to West and then West drops back. He gets away from the pressure, thanks to Sterling and the other linemen acting as a human shield.
Three seconds.
“You’ve got this,” I say again, sending those words to him like a fervent prayer, clutching my phone tightly in both hands.
Another breath leaves him, and I hold mine, feeling so tightly wound I can only imagine what this feels like for the team.
For West.
Time and the defense are closing in on him. Then, with one second left on the clock, he launches a desperate Hail Mary from midfield. A pass that has me and the crowd at my back on our feet.
Immense tension—those are the only words for this feeling I have, the cause of the sinking sensation in my gut.
It’s as though we’re watching in slow motion, our gazes never leaving the ball as it soars. There’s overwhelming anticipation and a sense of disbelief that West is still fighting for this win, but he is.
It’s do or die and no one can ever say he didn’t give this game his all.
“Holy mackerel, Jim!” one of the announcers yells through my earbud, punctuating the moment I just witnessed in real time—Dane plucking the ball