Sweet Home

I scurried to the seats, covering my face with my Big Gulp, completely humiliated and chanting under my breath, “Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod!”

I tried to ignore the catcalls and whistles directed my way. Ally and Cass sat on either side of me, laughing and clapping along with everyone else. I was just thankful that I’d decided to apply more makeup than usual and had assured that my mass of brown hair was at least in a stylishly messy chignon.

After a few minutes of tortuous fan-focused hell, which also included the cheer team facing me and waving their pom-poms—except for Shelly, who scowled and refused to acknowledge me—the introductions of the starting team began on the big screen. Cass whooped and hollered and dragged me to my feet to dance along to the music pumping through the sound system. When a segment showcasing Romeo’s highlights played to Planet Perfecto’s “Bullet in the Gun,” I couldn’t help but jump up and giggle along with my crazy Texan friend as the pregame infectious atmosphere took hold.

The music changed as the starting line-up’s pictures travelled across the big screen. Romeo’s picture was last, and his stats came up accompanied by the deafening roar of the crowd.

The announcer took to the microphone as the cheerleaders rushed along the band’s spirit line from the tunnel to the field.

“Alabama, get to your feet for your Crimmmssssooonnnn Tiiiddddddeeeeeeee…”

The team exploded out onto the pitch and the stadium almost lifted from its foundations with energy. Austin and Jimmy-Don led the team, pumping their hands to get the crowd going.

I looked frantically for Romeo, and at the very back, slightly behind everyone else, he ran out, waving his helmet in his hands, the camera following his every move.

As he reached the pitch, it seemed like every single supporter began to chant, “Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss,” over and over until I was sure it could be heard in the next state over. Ally grabbed my hand as Romeo’s amused face dominated the north and south Jumbotrons, and with a salute of his hand, he turned towards the direction of our seats and broke into an easy jog.

When he got to the end of the field, our gazes met, and he crooked his finger for me to go to him. The crowd only seemed to increase in volume at his playfully cocky action.

My feet planted to the ground, fear seizing me on the spot. I knew my eyes were as wide as saucers as they darted around the roaring crowd.

I felt a hand on my back and Cass pushed me forward, forcing me to move. “Go on, girl. Don’t keep him waiting in front of all these folks!”

I threw her a dirty look over my shoulder and she waved her hand in dismissal. I faced the field once more and Romeo stood only metres away with a hungry expression and his hands on his hips, waiting to see what I would do.

“You can do this, you can do this,” I repeated in a quiet chant as my boots propelled me forward.

When I reached the edge of the field, Romeo grabbed my hand and launched me forward into his chest, his other taped-up hand cradling the back of my head.

The crowd lost control.

He pressed his forehead to mine, leaving me no other choice than to focus solely on him, letting the deafening stadium noise fade into the background.

“Hey, Mol.”

“Hey, you.”

“You gonna give up that lucky sweet kiss?”

“If that’s what you want.”

His nostrils flared. “It most definitely is.” He tipped my head and pressed his mouth to mine—passionate and all-consuming—before pulling back, winking, and taking to the field, leaving me stood like a mindless, love-drunk dunce.

For a moment, I didn’t think I could walk, but I turned and, without lifting my head to face the screams, practically ran back to my seat. Ally and Cass were laughing at my embarrassment, and we stayed on our feet as the game kicked off.

Rome was having an unbelievable game. At least, it looked as though he was, and by Ally’s and Cass’s nudges and high-fives, I was pretty sure I was right. By halftime, they were leading by twelve and everyone was confident it was going to be a convincing win.

I was sitting back in my seat, just enjoying the electric atmosphere, when I caught Ally staring at me. “What?”

She tilted her head in assessment. It caused me to fidget. “You know, in all this time, I’ve never seen your hair down. Is it long?”

“Yeah, probably to nearly the bottom of my back. Why?”

Her eyes sparkled with scheming. “We’re going straight home after the game.”

“O-kay…”

“You, Miss Molly, are gonna look hot tonight,” she enthused.