Before I even opened my eyes, I'd made my choice.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ash
Carson looked out of her element in a football stadium, to say the very least. Anya, for her part, was blending in with aplomb. My mother's face had healed entirely, and on the surface she seemed just about back to her gung-ho, pleasantly nutty self. She waved a big, borrowed foam finger in one hand—something she'd lifted from “the very nice man” in the row in front of us. Carson and I exchanged heavy eye rolls every time she tilted her head forward to laugh at one of the goober's Dad jokes—but we didn't really mean anything by it. It was mostly just nice to see her laughing again.
“Do we get to sing in football?” Carson asked me. “One, two, three strikes you’re out? Or is that tennis?” A few rows down, some incredulous-looking Longhorn fans turned to shoot us dirty looks. My half-sister just waved a bejeweled hand, high on her own dumb joke.
I'd been edgy for most of this family date so far. Though I was thrilled to be out and about with my motley crew (not to mention super surprised when Anya had suggested this morning that we all go see a UT game) I wasn't sure how well I'd be able to hide my feelings once Landon came out of his...dugout, or whatever they called it. Already, Carson had nearly caught me and the boy several times. I wasn't any good at lying to her face. And there was still the uncomfortable fact of poor, sweet Nate Dempsey, who I'd broken up with on her stoop that very morning, without offering anyone an explanation.
“Stop being weird,” my sis repeated now, elbowing me so some of my popcorn sloshed out of its red and white striped box. To my left and far left, Lotte and Melanie played with their phones, ignoring our family business. “You're doing it again. Everything's going to be fine, you know. The soon-to-be-ex-step-monster is doing his daily course of anger management as we speak. You've done all you can. Chips are falling where they may.”
“It's not that.”
“Then, what?”
Anya hooted at something else the “nice man” said. It was then that the cheerleaders—in their infuriatingly tiny outfits—took to the field. Around us, the crowd began to roar. Any minute now, UT's chosen son would be coming out to claim what felt like the whole world's attention.
And yet, he loved me. Of all these thrilled, waiting, fans—I was the one he'd be looking for. The thought made my breath catch in my chest. I felt huge. Bigger than the Jumbo Tron.
“I'll tell you later, C. I promise.”
“Is it school?”
“No.”
“Is it…”—Carson ducked her head and lowered her voice in the direction of my other companions—“…friends?”
“Obviously not, dum-dum. You are basically my only friend.”
“Oh, har-dee-har-har.”
“Shhh!” Anya said, turning to us with an unexpected sharpness. “Babies, the game is starting! Woo, woo!”
It was then that I heard the beginnings of a skirmish in our section of the stands. The Longhorns, in their orange and white stripes, were running onto the field below—but all around us, heads were turning backward. Someone was thwacking his way through the crowd, down towards our little area. It didn't take a genius.
“That's not him, is it?” Carson murmured in my ear. “Jesus, kid. I figured you could be discreet for at least a while. Anya's barely...” But I couldn't hear the rest of her speech over the roar. People were standing, all around us, obscuring my view. I could no longer be sure.
“A-DRIAN!!!” he called. That's how I knew for sure. (I mean, speaking of Dad jokes.) People started to titter around us. I was dimly aware that on the field below, the cheerleaders had ceased their cheers.
By the time I'd crawled up on my chair to scan for his face, he was just a few rows away—apparently following the guiding light that was Anya's borrowed finger. Fans were shrieking, queuing for autographs. But the minute his eyes found mine, it was like we were the only people in that stadium of thousands.
“Landon!” I waved. It was a strange and unexpected joy, to shout his name out in a crowd. We'd had to be secret for so long. Finally, suddenly, he was at the edge of our row. He could speak to me over the heads of the wide-eyed Lotte and Melanie. I stood, then attempted to scooch past my friends and into the aisle.
“Something's come up,” he told me, when I reached him. The stands shushed around us. I tried not to think of my mother's face behind me, and what she might be thinking. “I can't play today. Or, maybe—probably—ever again.”
“FUCK NO!” someone cried. The chorus latched on. People started to boo and hiss. Notably, the “nice man” of Anya's acquaintance led the attack.
“I was faced with a fucked-up ultimatum, they basically made me chose: you or football…and I had to pick my girl!” Landon shouted at the stands. That seemed to shut everyone up, for a second. Then someone behind me cooed: Awww.
“But here's the thing. We might have to Bonnie and Clyde this shit. I mean—some people are threatening legal action. Against me.” It didn't seem at all appropriate, but he grinned a sheepish grin.
“Oh. Shit.”
“Yeah. It's bad. But, you know...you play the cards you're dealt, right?” He looked at me with expectant eyes. The University of Texas looked at me with expectant eyes.
I must've been stone-cold crazy. I mean, bad was the tip of the iceberg. For a second, what stretched in front of us was only a world of hassle—court testimonies and mediation, divorce papers, counseling, possibly transferring schools...but then, there were his stupid eyes, his stupid chin, and his stupid face, looking at me irresistibly.
“Fuck it,” I breathed. Ignoring the looks from the crowd, my friends, my sister, my mom—the rest of the world melted away. “We'll be bad together.”
A smile spread wide across his face and he jumped up into the stands, climbing over people and taking the bleachers two rows at a time. As I stood to meet him, he grabbed me around the waist and picked me up in a crushing embrace, pressing his lips against mine.
“I love you, Doll.” He said over the cheering crowd.
“I love you too.”
“Let’s do this.”
THE END
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