30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Willow

I wake up before my alarm and hop out of bed. It's game day! I've been to NFL games before but never to watch a friend or someone I know. Here I am, about to see my Super Bowl champ-caliber guy do the thing he loves most.

When I fly around my room getting ready, excitement bubbles under my skin. I'm about to tell the entire world that I took Tripp up on his offer. Usually, this part of a relationship is stressful and feels like walking on eggshells, but Tripp makes this part fun. I have no idea what to expect but the sinking feeling in my belly is barely there.

I'd be lying if I wasn't scared to tell everyone I'm dating someone. I know it's going to get to Dexter. And if something goes wrong, it will be hashed out, over and over again.

Wouldn't be the first time.

Tripp has already shown me so much good that I refuse to miss out because of the possibility of it falling apart. Or, at least that's what I tell myself as I look at the outfit hanging in my closet, specifically for today's game.

For my outfit, I've got a top in Cosmos blue, a black leather skirt, and knee-high black boots. It's late September in the city which means perfect boot weather, no tights needed. Plus, I'm having a stellar body image day and I'm thankful.

Tripp gave me some extra tickets if I had anyone else to invite. When I asked Emilie to come, I thought she was going to pass out. Not only is she a music fiend, but she watches football every weekend. Watches and yells at the TV.

"Willow, are you ready?" Emilie yells impatiently from downstairs.

I take one last look at myself in the mirror. My dark hair is lightly curled away from my face, pink lips a perfect contrast to the team colors. I look good which means I feel even better. Isn't it satisfying when everything goes as planned—outfit and makeup? I grab my overnight bag and go downstairs.

"A bag? GIRL. YES. I say that coming from friend Emilie and not your assistant." Emilie literally claps before opening the door and we laugh as we walk to the car.

All I can think about is watching Tripp do the thing he loves most.

Seth pulls up to the specific entrance outside the stadium while he confirms something on the phone with stadium security. He's coming to the game but insists on staying outside the suite the entire time. I told him that was unnecessary, but he insisted that that's the only way he agreed to this with Tripp. The man takes his job very seriously.

Seth gets out of the car, opens my door, and I step out. I'm relieved to not see a single camera. It's just a few people, using the same entrance, and security.

Emilie and I walk into the stadium, hand in hand. She has this thing about holding hands and it makes me feel like we've known each other our whole lives. Good thing because suddenly, I'm nervous. My head feels like it's full of feathers and I'm a tad unsteady on my heels. She stops walking for a second, pretending to fix my hair, and squeezes my hand.

"You good?" She mouths, concern etched on her face.

I take a breath, and when I'm sure I'm not going to fall over, I nod yes. My free hand goes to my stomach, one of my most insecure places—I'm thankful for the oversized top. When I'm overwhelmed, my brain lets me hear the body image doubts a tiny bit louder .

We give our names, they check a list, and move us on through security. There are a few spots to walk through a metal detector. It's funny being someone people know because they use your name like you've been friends forever.

"Willow, right through here." One of the staff indicates where to walk through. I take off my jacket, jewelry, and follow Seth and Emilie. All good.

Seth leads the way with a stadium staff member and turns giving me a look that says there are cameras ahead. This isn't a surprise. We knew they'd be here and it's one-hundred-percent fine. I do know that once I make this walk, it'll only be minutes before people will know I'm here. The press will not wait; they'll post the photos as soon as they're able.

There's no turning back. And you know what? I don't want to.

Emilie squeezes my hand.

"Let's do this," I respond as the nerves make my voice quicker than intended.

I step into the suite and am met with wide eyes and nervous shuffling. I know they've been prepped that I'd be here but it's still weird for people. The best thing, I think, is to immediately start introducing myself.

Before I can do anything, someone comes up and wraps me in a sweet hug.

"Willow! I'm Wendy. Tripp's mom. It's so nice to meet you. He's told me so much about you. I mean, I knew some of it already, but, well, you know how it goes." She pulls away and the excited light in her eyes makes me emotional.

I go in for another hug.

"Wendy, it's so nice to meet you! It feels like I know you already." I lean back and we're holding forearms, in a half hug .

"Oh, don't make an old gal blush. When Tripp told me you were coming to the game, I just couldn't believe it. It's going to be such a good day."

This woman has won me over in a single interaction. There's not a moment of awkwardness or hesitation. She jumped all the way in, and I love her energy.

After I introduce Emilie to Wendy, I make my way around the suite. I shake hands with everyone, offer to sign anything they may have hidden in their bags, and try to show them I'm excited to see the game. It's my attempt to show them I'm not that different from them.

I order myself a craft beer from the bar and grab a plate of snacks. Wendy has spots saved for Emilie and me, right next to her, near the front of the suite.

Kick-off is in about twenty minutes. The energy grows with each minute that passes like it's something I could reach out and grab.

I finally let myself sneak a look at the field to find number seventeen, Tripp Owens. Wendy must know what I'm doing because she points him out to me.

He's warming up in a light blue top and charcoal gray shorts. Even among an NFL roster, Tripp stands out. I feel like I could pick his silhouette out of a lineup at this point. He's running routes, pushing the dark hair from his eyes, and catching passes from his quarterback.

This man. This is so hot.

I've never dated an athlete before, and I feel like I've been missing out. Or maybe Tripp is an anomaly.

"How do you like the new place? Tripp mentioned you recently moved." I turn my attention to Wendy, so she doesn't see me drooling.

"I like it. It's much busier than I'm used to, but I love being close to Tripp. I go to every game I can. Plus, there's a club for everything here. I joined a puzzle and knitting club in the same week!" she answers with a smile that reaches her eyes.

A knitting club? Adorable.

"There's always something going on. I've also always wanted to learn to knit," I say, taking a drink of my IPA.

"Oh, say less. I can teach you! It's easy. You'll be knitting scarves in no time," she hands me her phone to put my number in. Her offer isn't an empty one.

The Jumbotron shows the guys warming up and they zoom in on the Super Bowl MVP. He's laughing and tossing balls back forth from the sideline. When he starts hyping up teammates, giving them chest bumps and yelling, I find myself grinning and feeling that fluttery feeling throughout my whole body. I hope the Cosmos can pull off a win and extend their unexpected winning streak.

According to Tripp, and the research I did online, this matchup is even. The Cosmos are favored by 2.5, which means the gambling gods expect them to win by three. Many people aren't sure what to make of the Cosmos quite yet; there's no previous seasons to compare to. Seems like most new teams have a bit of trouble finding their groove but these guys seem to have something going for them.

The game is about to kick off, and the players are lined up on their respective sidelines. Tripp told me there's sometimes awkward pauses which are really media timeouts for the telecast.

Tripp lines up, his back to the suite. He's wearing his jersey, number seventeen proud on his back, the light blue contrasting his tan arms and dark hair. He sways back and forth, his hands behind his back. I watch him turn around, find the suite, and stop when he sees me. I can't make out his facial expression, but he waves. To me, to his mom, to the suite, it doesn't matter.

He's managed to push all my doubts to the side with a single gesture.

I'm in for this man.

In it.

And it feels good.