Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“Fine. Being a grown-up is for boring people anyway.” Talon and I switch places, and I have to laugh at Peyton’s dad not even fighting his husband calling me more mature.
If anything, that’s what I love most about this family. They’re unapologetically themselves and see no shame in it. Vanderbilts are famous for being perfect. Anything less than is unbecoming and unacceptable.
Franklin U lose the coin toss, and University of Alabama chooses to receive, which means Peyton isn’t even on the field first up. That doesn’t stop my nerves from going haywire.
Let him have a good game. Please let him have a good game.
Miller leans in closer to me. “You get used to it.”
I flinch. Fuck, I’m so jumpy. “Used to what?”
“Watching. Wanting them to win. The high when they do, the downs when they don’t. Peyton’s dad played a hell of a lot longer than I did, so I’ve been in your position a lot.”
“This is his dream,” I say. “I want him to get everything he’s worked so hard for.”
“He will. Brady is right in that sense. This game could go to shit, and Pey would still be in a good place. Try to do what I always did and pretend this is just another game.”
“Oh, so I should sit on my phone and google what’s actually happening on the field?” I don’t realize Talon is listening until it’s too late.
“That’s it. Wedding is off until Levi learns football.”
“Wedding?” I croak.
Brady cuts in. “I told you they were already planning it, but hey, there’s your easy out. Don’t learn football and Dad will never give his blessing.”
Alabama fails to score a touchdown, and the ball changes hands. My legs start to bounce again as Peyton takes to the field.
Talon, Miller, and Brady all cheer encouragement from the sidelines, but I’m too busy reminding myself that it’s just another game. It’s not a big deal. If I’m going to be with Peyton, his pop is right. I’m going to have to get used to this.
I can see the appeal, the adrenaline of it all, but fuck, I’m going to have to find a way to prevent getting an ulcer from the stress.
Unlike the University of Alabama, Franklin starts out strong on offense, and while they don’t cross the line, they get a hell of a lot closer than Alabama did.
The score sits at zero across the board for the first quarter, which only makes me more antsy. If Peyton’s team could put one away, I might be able to relax.
The second quarter picks up where the game left off, with Alabama scarily close to scoring a touchdown. I learned at the team’s last game that the play doesn’t reset between the first and third quarters. Only at halftime.
Which sucks for us. Us being Franklin. I’ve caught the sport mentality when it comes to us being on the field versus players being on the field. The whole school is out there. And if my fantasies of one day becoming a Miller come true, I will have to pretend to like football.
Because the venue this year is closer to Franklin than it is to Alabama, there’s a hell of a lot more purple and gold in the crowd, and as Alabama takes the game’s first touchdown, it’s as if every single person wearing our colors loses a little school spirit.
Beside me, even Miller, Mr. It’s Just Another Game, starts fidgeting.
It doesn’t even pick up when Alabama miss the kick for an extra point.
Instead of the defeat we all feel, when Peyton gets back out there to do his thing, it’s like the touchdown against them has renewed his energy. Though he started out strong last quarter too and then slowly faded, getting farther and farther away from scoring with each new possession of the ball.
I pray to the football gods—who definitely exist according to Pey’s entire family—that this quarter is better because I don’t want to acknowledge the possibility that if he loses this game or any game from here on out, it will inadvertently be my fault. Or that the media, his agent, or the fans will see it that way.
If kissing me in public puts extra pressure on him, if a fight between us gets in his head …
Down on the field, Peyton passes the ball off on the sly and then pretends to throw it. It takes Alabama only a split second to realize what’s happening, but it’s a second too late because Peyton’s teammate must have rockets in his cleats. He clears all the big guys trying to tackle each other, and even though an Alabama player is on his heels, he doesn’t clip him until he’s already past the line.
The four of us are out of our seats, cheering like crazy.
Peyton points to his teammate across the field in acknowledgment, but there isn’t much of a celebration within the team. Peyton told me once that it can cost them yardage if they don’t act professionally after a touchdown.