Chapter Twenty-Seven

Willa

" T hey're showing you on the big screen," Pam says, as she points.

One thing I do in a big crowd of people is cover my mouth when I talk so that others can't report what I'm saying. It was one of the hardest lessons to learn, but at times like this, I'm glad I did. "I can almost guarantee you that while everyone in the stadium is happy that I'm here, people at home will be pissed. It's becoming cool to hate me because I'm everywhere. So if you don't want whatever you say to be broadcast everywhere, cover your mouth when you speak, like I'm doing."

I hope this doesn't make the family get annoyed with me. The bigger my stardom has become, the harder it's been to figure out if people like me for me or if they want me and what I can get them. The nice thing about Blake? I think for the most part he can get whatever he needs on his own. He doesn't need me to be anything other than who I am.

CeCe makes a noise from. "You're better than me; I wouldn't be able to deal with it. Especially when she's acting out, and I have to tell her to behave herself. I can only imagine what people would think about what I say to her." She laughs as she desperately tries to hold onto a jumping-up-and-down Jovi. "I admire the way you can handle it. You don't seem to let anything get you too upset."

"Oh, it gets me upset," I correct her as I face back toward where she's sitting, knowing that the cameras can't see me. "I used to let other see it, and the difference now is I just break down in private. I refuse to let others see me cry. They use it against me every time. I finally had to learn that that's what the paps wanted to do—get a reaction of some sort. So now I give reactions I want to, and they're my own. I can control my emotions to a point, and that's what's needed when it comes to the vultures of the media. They want it, whether it be good or bad, but truthfully, they prefer the bad. So if I'm going to get angry or cry, I take a few deep breaths, paste a smile on my face, and act unbothered."

"I don't know how you do that." CeCe shakes her head. "Once someone gets an emotional reaction from me, it's really hard to turn it off."

"Lots of therapy." I laugh. "And knowing that no matter what I do, those people can spin it anyway they want to. At the end of the day, it honestly doesn't matter what I say or do—they can erase anything with one article. I have to remain true to myself, and as long as I'm doing that I'm satisfied." I shrug. "I have to be because it's the only thing I can control."

"I admire you." CeCe smiles. "You've got it together pretty well."

I take a drink of the mojito in my hand, swallowing hard. "I didn't always. I used to let everything, and I do mean everything, bother me. I gave the media and people who wanted to tear me down too much ammunition to do so. Once I learned to keep things close and not let them see me cry or worry, and I found out who I could trust, things became a lot easier."

I don't tell them how I had to come to those conclusions. How it took years and a lot of fucking hurt to get here. That I second-guessed myself every step of the way, and even now I resent the fact I can't seem to be myself with many people. Blake, though? He's different in so many ways. I'm grateful and thankful we found each other. I've prayed for a chance to be in a normal relationship. If this isn't one then I don't know what I'm going to do with myself.

Instead of continuing the conversation, I have a seat by the glass and focus intently on the game. One thing I can't do is stop my knee from bouncing up and down.

"I used to have so much pent up energy when I'd watch them play," Pam says as she eyes my knee. "I didn't know what to do with it. When Blake would get a touchdown, or Bret would make a beneficial block, which they tend to do for each other, I'd scream as loud as I could—so loud that other parents would tell me to quieten down."

I scoff. "Isn't is weird how those emotions come out of our bodies? I used to get this surprised face at awards ceremonies, and people would say it was fake, but really, I just couldn't believe I'd won. I never go in thinking I'm going to win. There's competition, and I'm up against the best of the best, more often than not.They'd never let me just enjoy it. Ya know? And all I wanted to do was enjoy it."

"Well Willa, you can enjoy anything and everything with this crew." Pam gives me a genuine smile. "We're as normal as you get, and sometimes we might let the bright lights get to us, but pretty soon we'll expect you to be drinking beer and eating pimento cheese sandwiches right by our sides."

My mouth waters. "You can never beat a good pimento cheese sandwich. Don't threaten me with a good time."

Turning my attention back to the field, I see Russell lining up behind Bret, and I let my eyes travel the field for the number ninety-three. That's Blake. Once I see him, my gaze stays glued. The play moves into motion and he takes off, running a pattern that only the team knows. When he turns, his hands go up, and he catches the ball effortlessly.

We all jump up and down, screaming as he runs for a touchdown. When he does, the entire stadium erupts. There are fireworks and a song that we all dance to plays. Bret runs and jumps up into his arms. When Blake puts Bret down on the ground, he points up to the suite, forming a heart with his hands.

I put my hand on my chest, visibly swooning. No doubt that will be all over the news tomorrow, but it won't be something I'll be worried about seeing. It'll be something that I'll be able to look back on and think about with fondness, not something that will be tainted by what others have made fun of or turned into a mockery.

CeCe is holding Jovi. Jovi holds her hand up to me, and we do a high-five. The way her little hand smacks mine is the sweetest thing. It's then that I look up at the Jumbotron and see that they're showing us. Typically, I would be careful to make sure there's a smile on my face, but I don't need to today. The smile on my face is fucking permanent, and it'll take a whole hell of a lot to wipe it off.