The Pickup (Imperfect Love 1)

Celeste sits next to me for the entire game, and the more we talk, the more I find she’s actually a very likable person and can see why she and Nick are such good friends. Underneath her flawless makeup and designer clothes is a sweet and funny woman. She shares hilarious stories of Nick growing up that I stow away to later rib into Nick about. Corrine and Shelby join the conversation, and we make plans for a girls’ night. Corrine says she’s too old to go out but would love to watch Reed. I text Giselle, and after she about dies through text over the fact I’m making plans with Nick’s ex, she, of course, agrees to go out as well.

All of our talking ceases as the game winds down. New York has intercepted the ball and there’s only enough time for one, maybe two plays. The next play, if done right, can mean we’re Super Bowl champions.

Twenty-Two

Nick

Half the crowd erupts into an explosive roar of cheers as our defense intercepts the ball at the forty-yard line with under a minute remaining, no timeouts left. This is exactly what we needed, what we were banking on. The game has been close the entire time. If they would’ve scored, we would need this touchdown to stay one up on them, but because they didn’t, if we score, we win. Our entire season is on the line, the entire game coming down to this next play. Everyone is counting on me. I glance up at the owner’s box, not that I can see Olivia, but knowing she’s up there calms my nerves.

The last time I was in this position, I was with Fiona, but she wasn’t there. I know a lot of what went wrong between us had to do with my mother, but I hope what I’m building with Olivia is stronger. While I’m pissed at my mom for what she did, what Celeste said rings true. Fiona made the choice to take the money. She chose to walk away. She could’ve come to me and I would’ve given it to her, but she didn’t. I’d like to believe everything happens for a reason, and Fiona and Celeste were merely stepping stones that led me to Olivia and Reed.

Offense makes their way onto the field, huddling together and waiting for me to call the play, so I jog over to join them. “All right, guys. We got this. One play…maybe two, and we’ll be Super Bowl champions. We have zero timeouts, so the clock will be ticking. Here’s the play: West right slot, seventy-two, z bingo U split, dummy snap count on three.” The huddle breaks, and everybody lines up.

On my three-count, the center hikes the ball. Taking a three-step drop, I find an available receiver, but just as I’m about to throw the ball, he’s covered by the fucking cornerback. Defense is rushing me, and I know I’ve got to make this throw before I’m tackled. I spot Killian sprint left. He’s open—just barely. I throw the ball to him, and it’s a shitty throw at best, too far to the left, just before I’m knocked to the ground. Killian catches the ball one-handed and runs. I watch with bated breath as he passes each yard line—thirty… twenty… ten… with the safety on his ass every step of the way.

A safety comes from the right, and Killian, like the crazy ass he is, leaps over the guy into the end zone.

“Touchdown!” The crowd screams, and the entire team congregates into the end zone, celebrating. Brian Peters, our kicker, makes his way out onto the field for the extra point. Then, with only twenty seconds left on the clock, the special team’s unit comes onto the field for the kick off. Peters, once again kicks the ball, and the other team receives it. Their kick returner runs up the field, but he’s immediately taken down by one of our players. With no time left on the clock, the game is over, and we’re Super Bowl fucking champions.

Coach Harper makes his way over to me and pulls me in for a hug. “We did it!” he shouts into my ear, and I hug him back. “Hell yeah, we did.” The confetti falls from the sky, and the media makes their way over to us in a frenzy, surrounding us like vultures.

Killian jumps up against me and pulls me into a hug. “Fuck yes!” We’re both crying as hats are handed out. Several of my teammates come over and hug me. I place my hat on my head as one of the reporters sticks a microphone in my face. Her name is Jennifer, and she’s one of the sport’s channel’s main reporters.

“Two years ago, you were on the other side. Now here you are with your fourth Super Bowl win; first one with New York. To get this win today, what does that mean?”