The Wrong Quarterback: Chapter 7

Game Day.

There was nothing quite like it.

Nothing else could compare to the sheer, electric energy of it—the way the roar of the crowd could shake the ground beneath your feet and rattle the air in your lungs. Walking into that stadium, feeling the weight of one hundred thousand pairs of eyes fixed on you, was like stepping onto a stage where everything was magnified. Every move, every choice, every moment was played out in front of a sea of fans who lived for the highs and lows as much as you did.

There was no middle ground. You were either a god, lifted by chants that echoed your name as if you were untouchable, or a fool, shouldering the blame for everything that had gone wrong. The stakes were brutal and simple—win, and you’d be their hero; lose, and you’d taste the kind of hatred that cut deeper than anything else could.

I’d felt it before, both sides of the coin. The rush of being lifted, riding that wave of glory when everything fell into place and you were invincible, and also the bone-deep sting of screwing up. College football didn’t care about yesterday’s wins. It was what you did now, today, with the ball in your hands and a stadium holding its breath.

Stepping out onto that field was like a drug, though. The noise swallowed you, the pulse of the crowd synced with yours, and for a moment, it felt like you could do anything. And in that moment, with the stadium chanting, the sweat and adrenaline mixing in your veins, you either became a legend or just another name fading into the background.

I was ready to be a god today.

The locker room was filled with the usual pre-game tension, a mix of adrenaline and nerves thick enough to taste. Guys were moving through their routines, headphones in, heads bobbing to silent beats, some of them muttering last-minute mantras to themselves. The air smelled of sweat, leather, and that unique metallic tang of anticipation.

I sat on the bench, lacing up my cleats with deliberate precision, letting the repetitive motion calm the churn in my gut. Game day rituals were supposed to center you, block out everything else except the field and the playbook. But today, my mind wouldn’t cooperate.

My phone sat next to me, screen blank. No messages. My jaw clenched as I thought about my mom. It wasn’t surprising; last week’s visit had been rough. She’d barely acknowledged I was there, and then her fit over the shoes. Still, it was the first season she hadn’t managed to send me even a simple “Good luck.” The empty space that absence left gnawed at me.

“Hey, QB,” Jace said, throwing himself into the chair next to me and efficiently serving as a distraction. “I’ve got one for you.’

Matty groaned on the other side of me. “He’s doing his zone thing. Let him keep zoning.”

“What does that even mean?” Jace asked as he pulled his hair back into a ponytail.

“You know what it means. He’s getting in his groove. He’s doing his thing,” Chappie, one of my offensive lineman said, doing some weird dance that made his entire body jiggle.

“Do me a favor, Chap, my man. Please don’t ever do that again,” Jace drawled.

“I second that,” said Matty.

Chappie bent over, showcasing a large…and hairy butt crack, and everyone on my side groaned. “Ya like that, don’t you, Jacey? There’s more where that came from.”

Jace looked a little sick, but the rest of us were laughing.

“Can you say whatever you were going to say before I go bleach my eyes,” said Matty, laying his head back against the lockers like Chappie’s ass crack had taken the life out of him.

“Alright, this is a good one,” said Jace, standing up and starting some high knee stretches as he talked. “What’s the difference between a snowman and a snow woman?”

“I have absolutely no fucking idea,” I told him as my phone buzzed next to me. I glanced at it, thinking it might be my mom, but it was Walker.

“Snowballs,” yelled Jace suddenly, his high knee stretches turning into high knee jumps.

There was a beat of silence, and then we were all laughing. “That’s two semi-funny ones in a row, Jace-Face. It must be some kind of record for you,” called Matty.

Jace grinned smugly, very proud of himself.

I picked up my phone to see what Walker had to say. He’d just started training camp, and Cole was still on his world tour, so my family seats were going to be empty this game.

A thought came to me then, though, one that had a grin spreading across my face, and the disappointment fading.

Casey was probably going to be there. You didn’t miss your first football game of your freshman year. And I was quite confident that she would be in those family seats before the season was over.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Matty asked, sounding disturbed.

“Like what?” I asked innocently.

“Like a crazy person,” Jace added helpfully.

“This is how I smile now,” I told them seriously. “You’ll just have to get used to it.”

They both gave me heavy side-eye, but my attention returned to my phone.

I sighed, rolling my eyes.

I grunted out a laugh, and Jace once again came over to read my texts over my shoulder—because he was annoying like that.

The next text from Cole was a video of him at a concert doing a hip thrust that made it look like he was dry humping the microphone as he sang. There was a girl in the crowd right in front of him that fell backwards.

Jace snorted, and I elbowed him because it was rude to be so nosy.

Jace suddenly began jerking next to me, and I glanced over and saw that he was practicing Cole’s move in front of the mirror.

“No. Just no,” I told him. “I won’t throw you a single pass if that’s what you’re going to do.”

“I will intentionally follow you on the field and steal your passes if that’s what your plan is,” added Matty, looking horrified as he watched.

Jace shrugged and stopped humping the air. “You’re right. I imagine my dick is much larger than a rockstar’s. Wouldn’t want the whole stadium fainting and making the stands collapse.”

“Right…” drawled Matty. “We’ll go with that.”

I turned back to my phone.

“Nice word choice,” Jace commented, back to reading my texts over my shoulder. “Such a big brain.”

I sighed in exasperation.

He sent a picture of his head on a cheerleader’s body, and with that beautiful sight, it was time for this conversation to end.

The sound of the coach’s whistle broke through the room almost the second I’d put my phone away, snapping me back to what was coming. The guys stood up, voices rising as we got ready to hit the tunnel, the roar of the crowd already vibrating through the concrete walls. I took a deep breath, letting the noise fuel me, sharpen me. Game face on.

Let’s fucking go.

The crowd was so loud, the bleachers were literally shaking beneath my feet. I stood there, overwhelmed, trying to take it all in—the sea of orange and white, the Tennessee Tigers flags waving wildly, and the air buzzing with anticipation. I’d never seen anything like this. I’d never made it to any of my high school football games, but there was no way they would have been anything like what was surrounding me.

The stands were packed, shoulder to shoulder, and the energy was insane, like the whole stadium was alive, thrumming with something I couldn’t quite explain.

Gray had his arm draped over my shoulder, and I was trying to resist the urge to move out from under it. He and his frat brothers had been drinking since dawn I was pretty sure, and he was already wasted. I watched as he slurred something to the guy next to him and took another swig of his beer, dribbling some down the front of his orange Tigers shirt.

I’d thought that maybe we would’ve gotten together last night to talk more about the fact that we were a couple now. But he hadn’t even texted me. Some pledge thing had happened, he’d told me when I met him in front of the stadium for the game this morning. Things will be better next semester when the pledge period is done, he’d continued as he gave me a messy kiss.

Nat had been with me when he’d said that, and her eye roll was so extreme I was a little afraid they were going to get stuck like that.

It will be better next semester, I repeated to myself now as I watched my…boyfriend…take another drink.

It’s just that after two years of barely speaking, it felt like we had a lot to catch up on. I’d once felt like I knew everything about Gray. And now the guy wrapped around me felt like a stranger. Waiting another semester to try and fix that—when we were supposed to be together right now—didn’t feel like what should be happening.

“Want a drink?” he yelled, offering me his beer. I shook my head, thinking that there was no way he wouldn’t be blacked out by the end of the game. And I didn’t think any of his friends would be any better. I would probably have to make sure he got back to the frat safe, which would be a fun way to start off my freshman football season.

Not.

Suddenly, the crowd got even louder, the noise rattling through my bones as a Jay Z and Linkin Park mashup blared through the speakers. The players charged onto the field, their orange helmets gleaming under the sun.

And there he was.

Parker Davis, led the team out of the tunnel like a king. The stadium lost its mind. His name echoed everywhere, a chant that reverberated off the concrete walls. I tried not to look, I really did, but when his face flashed up on the huge screen, I couldn’t stop myself from staring. The camera zoomed in, catching his intense blue eyes, his windblown hair, and the way he carried himself like he knew he was a god among men.

I was mesmerized by how good-looking he was.

I didn’t know anything about football. But watching him run out in front of his team, like a commander riding into battle…the other team had to have been terrified. Was it just me…or was there a spotlight that seemed to follow him as he made his way out on the field?

It wasn’t just the way he moved, though—the smooth, confident stride, like the pressure of all those screaming fans couldn’t touch him—it was everything. His tan skin, the contrast of his white teeth when he flashed a smile, and those eyes. The kind of blue that wasn’t natural, couldn’t be. Like the sky on a clear day, piercing and intense. They were the bluest eyes I’d ever seen.

I remembered what they’d been like in person, up close…and Gray’s arm somehow seemed even heavier.

My breath caught in my throat as the camera zoomed in again. He was tall, towering above most of his teammates, and he was built like he’d been sculpted by someone who hadn’t made the rest of us.

I felt a set of eyes on me, and I glanced over to see Nat watching, a knowing smile on her face, like she could read the lustful thoughts running through my head right then. I wrinkled my nose at her, and she laughed before looking back toward the field.

The crowd around me was still losing it, chants for Parker ringing out from every direction, and I found myself staring…again. The camera zoomed in and out constantly, flashing him up on the big screen every other minute. He grinned at one point, and I felt a little faint all of a sudden, like his smile held magical powers or something. It was like the entire stadium was held captive by him, me included.

I tried to tear my eyes away, but my gaze kept slipping back to the screen. And the more I watched him, the heavier the guilt sank in. What was I doing? My boyfriend was right next to me, oblivious as he laughed at something, almost spilling his drink on me in the process.

A few bad thoughts were nothing though, right? As long as you never acted on them…

Wasn’t there a song about that?

“You excited, babe? Your first college football game. This is gonna be wild,” Gray murmured, pulling me in closer, the smell of alcohol heavy on his breath as he kind of made out with my cheek.

I forced a smile, nodding, even though my stomach churned with something else entirely.

The crowd roared louder as Tennessee huddled together, and the cameras showed Parker barking orders to his team. He even looked good when he yelled.

Gray jostled me again, shouting something about how things were about to get crazy. I nodded, not really listening. Parker seemed to glance up at the screen then, those blue eyes flashing as he smirked at the camera, and my stomach did this weird little flip…like that smirk was meant for me.

The players lined up to kickoff, and I decided it was going to be a long game.

And that maybe I should skip them in the future if this was what my reaction was going to be.

But I could at least enjoy it today.

Parker took off down the field, weaving between defenders like they were standing still. The clock was ticking down, the crowd on their feet, the noise a relentless wave crashing through the stadium. My breath caught as he crossed the twenty-yard line, then the ten. And then, like it was the easiest thing in the world, he was in the end zone.

Touchdown.

I screamed, my voice lost in the roar of the crowd. Next to me, Nat jumped up and down, gripping my arm so hard it was a miracle she didn’t leave bruises. The energy surged through me, wild and crazy, like I’d stuck my finger in an electrical socket. Gray had ducked out at the end of the third quarter, pale and muttering something about not feeling well, so it had just been me and Nat, glued to every play. Tennessee was already up by two touchdowns before Parker’s run, but the crowd was acting like he’d just won the National Championship.

“Oh my fucking hell, did you see that?” Nat yelled, eyes wide with exhilaration.

I nodded, my heart racing, eyes locked on Parker as he jogged into the end zone, that grin plastered across his face. And then, my jaw dropped as he turned to the crowd and did an Elvis impression, hips moving with that cocky confidence that made half the stadium scream even louder.

Somewhere down by the field, one of the cheerleaders wobbled and then straight-up dropped, like her knees had decided to give out. I laughed, that dizzy, magical feeling flooding my veins again, like he really was casting a spell across the crowd.

“Am I pregnant? I feel pregnant,” Nat said, shaking me as we both watched Parker. “Oh my gosh, look. We’re up there on the screen. Holy Fuck, Casey!” Nat screamed as she took advantage of the screen time to do a sexy little dance that would no doubt stay in some guys’ heads for the rest of the day.

I, for my part, stood there awkwardly, counting down the seconds until the camera panned away—something that seemed to take forever.

“What’s he doing?” Nat said, eyes still on the screen.

The stadium screen showed Parker staring into the camera then, and as we watched, Parker blew a kiss and then pointed at it.

“Has he ever done that before?” I asked. Nat’s family were die-hard Tennessee football fans, and she’d watched every one of Parker’s games since the first time he’d started.

“No, never,” Nat said, her voice confused. She side-eyed me, a sly little grin spreading across her face. “What if that was for you…since you were just on the screen?” she asked, an edge of hysteria in her tone.

I looked at her like she was crazy. I’d mentioned we’d had a strange moment after class, but I hadn’t said anything for her to take such a giant leap as that.

“I think the sun is getting to you,” I responded, gently pushing on her shoulder as we both glanced down at the chaos on the field as the game ended and the teams combined to shake hands and do post-game interviews. “We should get you some water.”

“I’m just saying…it’s possible,” Nat sing-songed.

I scoffed, but didn’t say anything else.

Because there was no way that’s what he’d meant…right?