Shaking his head in disappointment, Coach yelled, “Not good enough, so I’ll ask y’all again. Do ya wanna stay the champs?!!!”
“YEAH, YEAH, YEAHHHH!!!” chanted the team, the sound of shouting rumbling along the lockers, and players began pounding the doors and walls with their fists, the noise of the crowd outside building and the excitement of the players almost too much to take.
“Then grab your gear, hit the field, and… ROLL TIDE!!!”
Heading for the locker room door, in unison, the team, my team, chanted, “TIDE, TIDE, TIDE!”
As returning BCS champions, we had the honor of running out onto the field first. Rolling my shoulders and jumping on the spot, knees to chest, I gripped onto my helmet guard tightly, trying my damnedest to get psyched up.
I tried real hard not to let my mind drift to Molly. I’d been hoping she’d show after the voicemail I’d left her yesterday. But, as always, there was no reply. I’d made peace with myself that she wasn’t coming back to the US. My plans were firmly in place—to win this f**king championship, then fly to Oxford and sort this shit out once and for all.
The announcement for the Tide came. Just like last year, it was a blur as the team ran onto the field. Austin and Jimmy-Don led the way, pumping up the crowd to a crazy volume.
Taking a sobering breath, I shot out of the tunnel, pyrotechnics going off all around me, keeping my head down as we swarmed onto the field. I robotically sang “The Star Spangled Banner” with all my heart and as “…the home of the brave” died away into the night air, it was time for the rival team captains to meet for the coin toss.
I enjoyed this calm before the storm.
The Fighting Irish captains called it correctly and elected to receive.
Toward the end of the coin toss, the Bama fans rose as one and began to chant, “Kiss, kiss, kiss…” so damn loud it was deafening. Now back on the sideline, I hung my head in embarrassment and squeezed my eyes tightly, trying to ignore the pain of Molly’s absence. How could they know their good luck charm was across the f**king Atlantic? I cringed, knowing I couldn’t deliver, as tens of thousands of Bama fans demanded the ritual they believed had carried the Tide through an undefeated season.
Even so, the ever-increasing volume took my breath away, the crescendo of noise from the fans almost intolerable.
I concentrated on my game plays, anything to block out the deafening roar. My teammates began walking forward, checking out a new commotion in the crowd, but like a pu**y, I hung back—I wasn’t interested. I couldn’t wait for the damn referee’s whistle to blow.
Someone suddenly jumped on me—Austin.
“Rome, look!” He pointed toward the Jumbotron. When I looked up, my heart exploded in my chest like a friggin’ grenade.
Molly?
I whipped my head to the direction of the stands, scanning for a familiar face, and our gazes locked.
Fuck me. She looked stunning: brown hair long and loose, white dress… so goddamn beautiful.
Deep emotion surged through my body, but all I could think of as I walked as if on air toward her was she came—she actually friggin’ came back for me.
The closer I got, the more my throat dried and my chest tightened. Her golden eyes widened with nerves.
I let go of my helmet, no longer needing it to stay centered… calm.
As I glided to a halt before my girl, I looked up and watched her take a deep breath, the stadium around us uncharacteristically still and quiet.
“Hey, Mol,” I said in a rough voice.
“Hey, you,” she whispered back. Then I closed my eyes for a moment, savoring that familiar accent once more.
“You going to give up that sweet kiss?”
“If that’s what you want.”
The heavy burden I’d been carrying around for weeks lifted, and I answered, “It most definitely f**kin’ is.”
Reaching forward, I lifted Mol over the barrier and wrapped her into my arms, crashing against her lips with my own, tasting the sweet vanilla taste that was so uniquely her.
My girl took everything I gave, her desperation matching mine as we let our crazed need for each other take over.
Needing a breath, I broke away and asked, “Are you really here?” running my hands over as much of her as I could.
Cupping my face, tears in her eyes, she cried, “Baby, I’m so sorry I left. I couldn’t cope, but… I love you. I love you so, so much. Please forgive me. Please…”
She loved me. She f**king loved me, and the relief those words conjured had me literally dropping to the floor, still clutching Molly in my hold.
I was never letting her go again.
“Are you back for me? For good?”
Her warm breath breezed down my neck. “For the first time ever, baby, I ran back to something, to you… my Romeo.”
I was hers; she had no idea how much.
“You won’t ever run again. You get that now?” I said firmly, searching her eyes for any doubt. There was none.
“I get it.”
“You left me alone for weeks, no word, no explanation. Do you know how mad I am at you for that?”
“I know.” The sadness and regret in her soft voice almost cut me like a knife. But I had my answer. She was with me now for good.
Pressing my forehead to hers, I stated, “I’m going to win this game. Then I’m going to f**kin’ brand you, once and for all. It seems I’ve been too lenient with you, Shakespeare.” I pushed. “Maybe you didn’t quite get that you’re mine and as such can never, ever leave me—even if your heart is broken. Because if you’re hurting, baby, you can bet I’m f**kin’ hurting too.”
My muscles felt invigorated and I stood, hoisting Molly back to her seat, ordering, “You, back in those stands. Now. I’ve got a championship title to take back home. Then I’ll deal with you. Quite frankly, I don’t know which one I’m more excited for.”
Flushing beet red and throwing me a huge smile, she said, “Give them hell, baby,” then planted another lucky sweet kiss full on my lips, the Bama fans roaring in reaction.
We played out of our skins, but Notre Dame was never too far behind us, never too far in front.
The final down of the game, fifteen seconds on the clock, fourth quarter. I had led a drive into the red zone. We had to score a touchdown; a field goal was not enough to secure the victory. Notre Dame’s defense hadn’t missed a damn beat all night and I had one last chance to wrestle the win from their stubborn clutches.