Most Valuable Playboy

The crowd roars. They slam their feet against the stands, pounding out a cheer that thrums through the stadium and echoes across the field.

It’s third and nine. There’s no breathing room in this game. Two minutes till halftime, and the score is still tied. We’ve traded leads every possession, it seems.

I take the snap from shotgun as three receivers race downfield. My heart pounds rocket-fast, but my nerves are cool. My brick wall of linemen buy me time, as they’ve done all day, holding off Dallas. I scan for an open target, but McCormick is swarmed by the secondary. Another receiver is flanked, too. I find Jones, scrambling to break away from the cornerback.

“C’mon, man,” I mutter.

I’m waiting.

Fucking waiting, ready to throw the second he’s free.

A big-ass lineman busts through, but the center slams into the guy’s barrel body, protecting me as I launch the ball the instant Jones peels away from the coverage.

He doubles back, and those beautiful hands are ready. The ball soars, and he pulls it down pristinely, cradling it then carrying it for twelve yards before he runs out of bounds, avoiding a tackle.

I pump a fist and point downfield. We run, line up for the first down, and we’re all business the rest of the way. I hand off to Harlan, who powers his way around the defense, gaining eight yards, and putting us squarely in field-goal range.

But hell if I want to go for three right now. I glance to the sidelines, briefly making eye contact with the coach. He gives a nod, and even though that’s his go-to gesture for nearly everything, I know this time it means go for six. A new wide receiver comes in, bringing the play with him.

After the snap, I’m in the pocket, and I throw easily to an open McCormick, who takes off like a cheetah. The rookie hauls ass twenty-five yards into the motherfucking end zone.

The crowd erupts.

My heart jackhammers.

I run to McCormick, clapping him on the back and congratulating him as we trot to the sidelines.

“You rock, man.”

“No, you fucking do,” the rookie says, with the same baby-faced grin that Cam Newton sports.

“Beautiful,” Greenhaven grunts as I grab some water and Einstein does his job with the extra point.

That gives us a welcome seven-point lead at halftime. I take off my helmet, turn to the stands, and my eyes find my family. My mom waves a number-one foam finger, and her boyfriend, Dan, plants a kiss on her cheek. Ford shakes his hips back and forth, calling out something unintelligible that’s clearly a compliment. Next to them, Trent and Holly are hollering happily, arms raised in the air. I give them all a huge thumbs-up.

My gaze drifts beyond my best friend to his sister, the girl I’ve known for most of my life, who’s smiling up a storm and cheering like this is the best day ever.

And so far, it’s pretty fucking good.

I give her a tip of the proverbial cap then a lopsided grin. The smile that returns my way is priceless, like a shot of pure happiness in my body.

Ford drapes an arm around Violet and says something to her.

I turn away and head to the locker room with the team.



Violet: Oh my God. He’s taking me into the lion’s den.



* * *



Holly: Do you have your retractable claws ready to go?



* * *



Violet: No, but he makes it seem like I need them. He says the players’ wives are dying to meet me, and I need to be on my toes.



* * *



Holly: I have no doubt they want to know who’s about to become the new leader of the pack in one fell swoop. That’s probably what they think.



* * *



Violet: Stahp. Just stahp. I’m nobody.



* * *



Holly: Oh, Vi. I love you and all, but if you’re the quarterback’s girl, you’re on track to become everybody.



* * *



Violet: This is crazy.



* * *



Holly: They all know you might become the new Queen Bee.



* * *



Violet: Will they want to dethrone me then? Steal my stinger? Wait, do queen bees have stingers?



* * *



Holly: No, they’re full of eggs that then become larva, so it’s kind of a bad example.



* * *



Violet: Here goes nothing.



* * *



Holly: Just smile and wave . . .





Holly: Are you alive? Celine Dion already sang.



* * *



Holly: They’ve taken you. They’re making blood

sacrifices with you.



* * *



Holly: You’ve left me. You’ve officially left the little people behind, and now you’re eating sushi and canapés and crudités in the players’ wives suite.



* * *



Holly: Incidentally, if they have any yellow tail, bring me one. I love yellow tail.



* * *



Holly: And mini cupcakes.



* * *



Holly: But they probably don’t have that. Unless they’re made of air, and I don’t want an air cupcake. Back to the original plan. Bring me a sushi roll.



* * *



Holly: If I ever see you again.



* * *



Holly: Okay, halftime is nearly over. Celine is done, Lady Gaga made a special appearance, the marching band for all the high schools in the universe performed, and you’re gone.



* * *



Holly: It was fun being friends. Sniff, sniff.



* * *



Violet: The sushi was to die for! I stuffed my bra full of tuna rolls just for you.



* * *



Holly: Bitch.



* * *



Violet: But seriously! They were all so nice. The center’s wife is so sweet. She invited me over. The guard’s wife had her baby with her, and he was totally cute, and I even cuddled and held him. McCormick’s girlfriend from high school was there. She is crazy about him! And the tight end’s fiancée was amazing. Admittedly, I was nearly blinded by her ring. It’s about the size of my head. No lying.



* * *



Holly: I know that’s not a lie. Those ladies have ring bling!



* * *



Violet: Ford made it seem like the lion’s den, but I didn’t feel that way at all.



* * *



Holly: Did they ask about Cooper? Did they give you the relationship third degree?



* * *



Violet: Yes. How long we’ve been together, when I knew I liked him, how we started dating, what I thought of the game. It was easy to answer everything.



* * *



Holly: Because you have the answers ready!



* * *



Violet: I sure do.



* * *



Holly: You always have . . .





Rick chews the pink gum, spits it out, and brushes his teeth on the sidelines. Then, the defense holds off Dallas in the third quarter, but their line nearly kills me. I manage a few handoffs and a couple of short passes, but we don’t push past the fifty-yard line.