Sweet Home

As usual, the sun was beaming down in Tuscaloosa and the close-packed, open-roofed stadium was getting far too hot. I had worn a short white linen sleeveless dress and a pair of Ally’s brown mid-calf cowboy boots, which she had kindly given to me as a hallelujah, you’re comin’ to a game’ present. She’d told me bluntly, that I had to fit in and adopt a sassy southern attitude. I’d also honoured this occasion with a covering of light makeup, and I found that I actually loved the country look.

“I’m going to grab a Diet Coke. Either of you want anything?” I asked, shouting over the roars and cheers, batting away a mosquito with my hand, needing a respite from the intense heat in the stadium.

Ally shook her head, too engrossed in watching the game, and Cass reached into her pocket, pulling out a twenty. “A large bag of chips and a root beer, darlin’.”

I took the money and made my way along the side of the field towards the indoor vendors. I’d only made it about ten steps when thousands of heads started to turn in slow motion, following my path. Before I had a chance to even guess why, the ball surged into the crowd and two men began to fight over who would keep it. Their ruckus caused them to careen my way, and I was smacked in the nose by a stray elbow, the impact of which had me hurtling on my arse. To compliment the hit, the crowd expelled a collective “oooh” and security came over and hauled away the two men.

My hands instinctively flew to my nose, which felt a little tender yet intact, and as far as I could tell, there was no blood. My glasses, however, were a different story and came apart in my hands. I clung to them the pieces as people hurried over, asking if I was okay. I heard a man shouting that he was a medic and he bent beside me, his hands skirting over my face.

“I think the impact of the ball just snapped my glasses,” I stated, taking the offered help from the squat and balding medic to help me stand. As I got to my feet, the crowd began clapping and I held my cracked glasses to my face, an arm in each hand, and surveyed the stadium, noticing to my mortification that my little fumble had been televised on the Jumbotron.

“Prince! PRINCE! Where the hell do you think you’re goin’?!” an angry male voice screamed and the small crowd around me began to part.

I peeked my head in the direction of the opening path, only to see Rome running my way. The expression on his face was one of utter horror as I stood holding my snapped glasses to my eyes.

“Shit, Shakespeare! I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” he asked, panic in his voice. He dropped his helmet to the floor and both his hands cupped my face, tilting up my head, searching for injuries with his large brown eyes.

“Rome, I’m okay. I was saved by my glasses. They laid their life on the line to save my nose. You don’t need to apologise. It’s the two drunken idiots that landed on my face who are the dicks!” I held up my now two-piece set of black frames—losing my vision for a second before holding them back in place.

When I could see again, I noticed Rome pull a small smile and shake his head. “It had to be you. Out of everyone in this entire f**kin’ stadium, it had to be you who was involved. I’m no longer surprised; you’re always there. I think someone’s tryin’ to tell me somethin’.”

I shrugged. “I was going for a Coke.”

He laughed gently. “During my play?”

“Err, well, quite honestly, I didn’t know what the hell was going on, and I was thirsty.”

Women bent over the rails, screaming at Rome.

“We love you, bullet!”

“Take me home with you, honey!”

“Fuck me, seven!”

His smile dropped at my distracted attention. He gripped my chin so I focused solely on him. “You came.”

“I came,” I answered with a smile.

“Why did you change your mind?”

“You got through to me,” I teased, relaying his words from our heated corridor argument.

Rome huffed out a laugh.

“Miss? We need to take you to the medical room to check you over—policy, I’m afraid. If you’d like to come with me.” The medic held my arm and tried to usher me away.

Rome put up his finger to pause him for a second before bending slightly to meet my gaze. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m good. Now, don’t you’ve a game to win? I’m sure all these people didn’t come here today to see us chatting.”

“Yeah, I was kinda in the middle of somethin’ before you decided to walk into that drunken fight.”