Total pages in book: 191
Estimated words: 182070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
“You’re going to be doing more than seeing each other,” my fucking sister scoffed under her breath as she pretended to look toward the field, but I didn’t take my eyes away from the two Travis family members. I kicked her in the leg instead.
“Yes,” Ms. Travis confirmed, that faint smile turning into a fierce one. “I need help keepin’ that boy in line. I hope you’re up for it.”
I was up for it, and I told her so with a laugh.
A second later, my phone vibrated from inside of my pocket, and I took it out, wondering who would be texting me. Deepa?
The name on the screen had me freezing.
ZAC THE SNACK PACK: You make it?
I smiled down at my screen.
Me: Yes. Paw-Paw and your mom are behind us.
Me: Connie glued a mustache to my face, by the way.
I got a response almost immediately.
ZAC THE SNACK PACK: A mustache??
Me: A blue one. I think Trevor might have done the sign of the cross when he saw it.
It showed he was typing up a reply before I’d even hit Send on my second text.
ZAC THE SNACK PACK: I’ve always had a thing for mustaches
I laughed.
Me: You’re in for a treat then. It’s a good one.
Me: Also, you’re going to do great today. I’m so proud of you and so is everyone else.
I almost expected not to get a reply from him, but my phone vibrated after about a minute with a new text.
ZAC THE SNACK PACK: In that case, I’m gonna try even harder not to let you all down.
My heart squeezed.
Me: You could never let us down. And even if you don’t win and the team doesn’t go to the playoffs, you’re still invited to go to Disney World with me once I reschedule my trip.
ZAC THE SNACK PACK: You’re only supposed to go there if you win it all.
Me: You’re winning just by being where you are right now.
The typing icon stayed on the screen for almost a minute before I got another text.
ZAC THE SNACK PACK: You right.
ZAC THE SNACK PACK: Follow Trev after the game, okay?
ZAC THE SNACK PACK: Love you kiddo
“Love you, kiddo,” he said like he’d said it a hundred times before.
Which he had.
But I read it in his text then. The difference. I wasn’t sure how I could ever explain the nuance, but it was there, as different as day and night.
He loved me. Me. And he meant it.
I thought about that until he was running out onto the field with his teammates—some of whom were my friends now too—to play another big, important game that most commentators had going in favor of the Three Hundreds because they’d had a slightly better season.
Zac was too nice to ever rub anybody’s face into anything—well, most of the time—but I hoped they cried silent tears when the White Oaks won.
I stood there in the stands with my cousin on one side, and my sister and Richard on the other, and Zac’s Paw-Paw, mom, and manager directly behind me, cheering just as hard as everyone in the stadium as the game prepared to start. And we stood like that for a long time.
For the entire game.
Because it was stressful as hell. The Three Hundreds were out to prove a point. Unfortunately for them, so were the White Oaks.
For three quarters, the teams were tied nearly neck and neck. The Three Hundreds would score and then the White Oaks would do the same. Every fan in the stadium screamed at the field over tackles and fumbles and interceptions.
And then, with less than fifty-five seconds left on the clock, Zac and Amari did it.
They scored.
They had won.
THEY WON.
And just about everyone went apeshit.
Boogie and I hugged, and I know for sure that Connie and I held each other as we jumped up and down. Richard and I grabbed each other by the shoulders and yelled in each other’s faces so loud the earplugs I’d slipped on at the start of the game didn’t do much. I hugged Paw-Paw and Ms. Travis too. He had tears in his eyes, and she was crying, so I hugged them again.
It was then that Trevor grabbed me by the wrist and made a face to tell me to follow him. I pointed at the Travis family, but Paw-Paw waved me off to go alone. Trev led me through a maze of people, around a barricade, down some stairs, and through a checkpoint as White Oaks fans were going insane at their win.
It was one step closer to the playoffs.
“Bianca!” a voice yelled from around the security guard.
It was Zac, holding his helmet in one hand as one player after another walked by him, slapping him on the shoulder, hooting and yelling as they went down the dark tunnel that we had approached. His face was pink, and his hair was matted to his head, but he looked happy and alive and amazing.