Chapter Seven

Blake

" D o you know where we're supposed to go?" Russell asks, as we navigate the crowd walking into Raymond James Stadium.

"No, but she sent me this ticket earlier, told me to walk up to will call and scan it." I tug my hat farther down on my head, doing my best to shade my eyes and appearance. A few people have eyed us off and on since we walked in, and I'm kinda not surprised. That's what happens when you announce to the world that you want Willa's phone number.

Russ beats on my back as we stand in line. "Someone gave me a bracelet, man!"

I sigh heavily. "That's what they do here. They give bracelets, they dance, and they sing along. Did you bring any bracelets to trade with?"

"No, I didn't even know it was a thing. I'm completely unprepared."

"Here." I hand him a couple of bracelets I purchased in anticipation of coming. "So if you see someone who's having a good time, or dressed up, or they give you one, you give them one back."

"I really like this vibe." He takes his hat off and turns it around backwards.

"You sure you wanna do that? People are going to know who we are." I lower my voice, ducking my head down further.

He and I are able to go out in crowds whenever we want to, but not when our faces are on full display—unless we're in Nashville. There, no one seems to care. Out-of-towners will ask for a picture and an autograph, and then they'll move on. I know that isn't the same experience for every NFL player, but I'm thankful it's the one we have.

"Oh, fuck it. We're having a good time tonight." He pops a piece of gum into his mouth.

The will-call line has finally moved enough so that we're the next ones. I flash the ticket on my phone that Willa sent me. The person working the line gives me a sly grin. "You're VIP. If you could come around to this side, we'll get you taken care of. You have a plus one?"

"Russ." I wave to get my best friend's attention. "Let's go. Quit fucking around."

We walk past a few barricades and thousands of dressed up fans. Some recognize us, and I smile when they yell out my name. The section we're directed to has a number of celebrities waiting around n it. In situations like this, I typically don't approach people I don't already have a relationship with. So I stand back and wait for the group in front of me to be ushered in.

"Welcome to Raymond James Stadium," the usher says, as he puts some bracelets around my wrist. One of them is already lighting up, and I can't wait to see what the stadium looks like in the dark when everyone's bracelets are lit up. When I went to Willa's concert in Nashville, I sat in a box, so I didn't get to enjoy all the up-close-and-personal fan things. "If you'll follow me," he continues, "I'll take you to your seats."

Walking toward a roped off area, I'm nervous. I know with everything in me that this is going to be all over the Internet within minutes. Hell, we might even be on there right now. Some of the concert-goers recognize us and throw out hellos and waves. One of them is wearing my jersey.

"Come over here, girl." I motion to her. "You got something for me to sign it with?"

She pulls out a marker and turns so that her shoulder blade is to me. "You don't have to put my name. I'm gonna give it to my boyfriend. I hoped you'd be here." She hurries to confirm, "I'm a fan though. You did amazing against Denver two weeks ago. Congrats on beating the rushing record."

"Thank you! It'll only take me fifteen more years to get into the number-one spot. Wanna take a picture?"

Her phone is in her hand, and she's got it turned around so we can take a selfie. I lean in, our cheeks together, as she says, "My boyfriend is gonna be so jealous."

When we're done, I give her a smirk. "He should've come along with you."

"Right? That's what I said."

Russ and I continue out to a covered area. Once we're there, some gates are moved aside, and I see we've got some couches to sit on. There's also a drink station. The usher stands before us. "If you want something to eat during the show, please let me know. It's three and a half hours for just Willa, and her opening act is almost an hour. There are private bathrooms too, located just beyond the door. Just let me know how I can help you."

"Thank you, my man. We appreciate it." He claps him on the back.

Russ looks at me as the usher leaves. "This is better than we're treated when we're in a damn box at our own stadium."

I'm looking forward to this in ways I wasn't expecting. Since we've been texting back and forth and we had our date the other day, I feel closer to her, as if I know her personally. But I do recognize a pride that bubbles up from within my chest.

Russ and I enjoy our time, drinking a beer or two, and sharing a large nachos before Willa comes on stage.

Since I've seen her before, I know what precedes her entrance. When I see it happening, I stand up, eyes wide, mouth open. It's breathtaking, seeing her rise up from the floor in the center of the stage. The smile she gives to everyone? It's one of the brightest I've ever seen.

"Oh hi!" She waves. "I'm so excited you could be here tonight. Let's get this started, huh?"

She launches into her first song, and the crowd screams—and it's deafening, som much louder than it seems when I'm out here playing football. She sings dances, and gives it her all for two hours, and I'm absolutely in shock. Each time I see her perform, she takes my breath away.

"How does she do this?" Russell questions during one of the intermissions I'm assuming she's using to change clothes. "I'd be on my ass by now, and she's got another hour and a half to go."

"She's a beast." I shake my head. "I mean, we have stamina to play short bursts. She has stamina to do this without making it look like it's hard. I don't think I'd be standing, and I'd have an IV every night."

"Blake!" someone yells my name. "Can we exchange bracelets?"

I glance down at a girl, holding out a bracelet to me. She's just on the outskirts of the VIP area, her mom holding on tightly to her shoulder.

"We can." I smile at her.

"I watch the show your brother and his wife do. I really like it when you're on."

"Are you serious?" I've never met someone who's watched the bi-weekly show they do. I mean yeah, theyget good ratings online, but I've never met someone out in the wild. "What do you like most about it?"

"When you talk about how the two of you get along. My sister and I fight too, and it's nice to know that maybe we'll still be able to be friends if we argue. Sometimes it doesn't feel that way."

I know exactly what she's saying. I felt that way a lot when I was a kid, and still do sometimes even now. I reach out to her and pull her into my arms. "When you're family, it's gonna be hard. You'll make it through. I'd go to war for my brother any day of the week now. We just had to grow up and learn how to relate to one another. You've got this." I look on my wrist for the bracelet I want to give her. "Have a great night, sweetheart."

She smiles, waving back at me, and I glance down at the bracelet she gave me. It reads on the map . I laugh loudly, throwing my head back.

"What does that mean?" Russ asks.

"I think it means that Willa's gonna put me on the map. Forget that I've played in the Pro Bowl five years in a row."

"She's at the level of Elvis right now, Blake. It's gonna be hard to rise above that."

I remember the conversation I had with Willa the other night. "I don't need to rise above it. That's not what this is about. I can be with her and not have to be the one in the spotlight. I'm more than happy to let her take the lead on whatever it is that's going on between us. I don't have to be the popular one. I'd rather help her shine."

Russ looks at me. "This is real, huh?"

"Well it sure as fuck isn't fake."

Although I know I'm not telling the whole truth. She isn't sure if she wants to trust me or not, but nothing about what I do is fake, and regardless of how she wants this to play out, I won't allow myself to hide who I really am and how I truly feel.