“Come on, let’s go out in the hall.” He drags me back to the doorway where Jack and I entered. I feel a million curious stares at my back, and am intensely grateful when the door slams shut.
Under the bright fluorescent lights, I see darkness under his eyes. A slight bruising, as if someone slapped him or he hasn’t slept well. Perhaps he’s partied late. He certainly has good reason to. My throat begins to ache. Why has he come here? It’s tortuous to see him in person. It’s one thing to watch him on the television. There’s something about the pads, helmet, and uniform that provide a distance. I can see him as just Knox Masters, the really great football player, instead of Knox Masters, someone who whispered he loved me and took me to heaven every night we stayed together.
Here, in the flesh, with his beautiful face looking at me intently, all I can remember is that at one time I could lay my hands on his shoulders, crawl into his lap, and tug his head down to kiss him. It’s both painful and glorious to stand this close to him, but not touch him as if he’s mine.
“Ellie, I know about Jack, the ban, all of it.”
My heart stops and then stutters to life again with a roar of adrenaline as his fingers curl around my cheek. The callouses scratch against my skin in that rough, familiar way of his.
“Then why am I here?”
“The ban is for anyone but family members. We get married and the ban is solved. I mean, yes, you can’t go to the games, but you never did anyway. There are only two games left before the playoffs: the last regular season game and then the conference title game. After we win the national championship, I’m announcing my eligibility, and once that’s done I won’t be a student athlete anymore. You can come to my pro games.”
He says they’re going to win likes it’s a foregone conclusion. The rest of his words don’t make any sense, at least not to me. “Wh-what?”
“She doesn’t believe you.” Jack pokes his head out the door. “Our parents have spent her whole life convincing her that she's second class. That she's not valuable because she doesn't wear pads and she doesn't have a penis. She's never had anyone want her that way. She's waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
I gape at Jack. He gives me a sad smile.
Knox takes my shoulders. “The only other shoe I've got has a hell of a lot of love. Some horniness, too. I love you, Eliot, and I want you to be my wife.”
My eyes start to blur, but it looks like he’s unbuttoning his coat and getting down on one knee.
“I feel like I was born knowing I should be a football player. The moment I touched the pigskin, the universe shifted into its rightful place. I felt that very same way when I saw you sitting on the top of Union Stadium all those months ago. It's why you were my first.”
He thumps his hand against his heart. “I love football, but I love you more. None of this—the wins, the glory, the triumphs—will taste as sweet without you. Will you, Eliot Anne Campbell, be my wife?”
He picks up my limp hand and slides a beautiful diamond on my finger. It’s an antique setting with a gorgeous center stone, surrounded by filigree in white gold and diamonds. The whole thing is blindingly beautiful.
I can’t believe this is happening to me. Nothing this good has ever happened in my life. I don’t have any proper response in my head. It’s a whirling, confused muddle. This gorgeous man is proposing to me. He wants to pledge in front of all of his friends and family that he wants me, the most imperfect of beings, as his forever.
I have only one answer I can give him. The only answer he deserves.
My hand goes to my throat as I whisper a shaky, watery, “Yes.”
Knox jumps to his feet. “All right, then. Let’s get you dressed.”
Not the response I thought I’d get. Maybe a kiss? A hug? But instead, Riley rushes through the door, and from the garbage bag she pulls out a beautiful ivory gown—no it’s a skirt. Made with a mountain of tulle.
“What is this?” I cover my mouth. The tears that I’d fought back start to fall. Jack gets flustered, but Riley grins. Knox laughs outright.
“Do you love it?” Riley asks with a tinge of apprehension.
“Of course, I do.” I pull her into my arms and hug her tight. “You are my best friend, aren’t you, Riley?”
“Yup. We’re sisters of the heart.” She gets teary, too.
I hug her, dwarfing her tiny body in my embrace. She rushes me down the hallway into a training room where I shed my jeans for her frothy creation. Her bag produces a tight white cashmere sweater with a scoop neck banded in pearls and tiny cap sleeves.
“The waistband is satin,” she explains, and in the back she ties it into a huge bow.
It looks like a dream. She even produces a veil. Together we fix my makeup. Riley brought everything I’d need, even a pair of white heels.
“How did you do this?” I ask, fingering the white netting.
“It didn’t take that long. And since it’s just a skirt, I could make it somewhat adjustable.” She pulls at the skirt and veil to get it just right.