But that wasn’t what I wanted.
I didn’t want to just show up and beg for a second chance. I wanted him to want this, too. I wanted him to take his time, take the night to think on it, to think on us.
If he showed up, I’d know.
And if he didn’t…
“And so, we meet again,” Janet said, scooting close to me as she rubbed her hands together. Roy took the seat next to her, a small nod his only gesture of acknowledgement.
I smiled, but confusion soared through me. “You guys are sitting here today?”
“Your friend gave these tickets back to us, said he couldn’t come to any more of the games this season,” Janet answered, her brows pulling together. “I thought he would have told you.”
A chill swept over me, but not from the wind. Of course, he’d sell his tickets. He didn’t show up at the last game. Why would he want to ever come to a game and sit next to me?
But when did he give them back? Was he going to use the one I sent him… or was this it?
“Oh,” I said, smiling again. “Yeah, of course. He told me. I just didn’t realize he gave the tickets back to you guys. This is perfect, though! I need someone to boo with when the Packers score.”
Janet chuckled. “Well, you know I’ll cheer and boo right along with you.” She nodded back to Roy. “Don’t count on much from this one, though. It’s down to the wire for playoffs, you’ll be lucky if you see him blink the entire game.”
I laughed, casting a glance at Roy before my eyes met Janet’s again. Her gaze was soft, and she gave me a knowing smile, reaching over to squeeze the puffy arm of my jacket with her mitten-covered hand.
“Hey,” she said, voice low. “I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever it is, it’s going to be okay. One step at a time, that’s what my mom always told me.” She shrugged. “Even when it was hard to hear, it always seemed to ring true.”
I swallowed, the saying reminding me of advice my grandfather would have given. Janet didn’t even know about me and Zach, or about my past, but she knew in that moment that I needed to hear her words.
And I never could have thanked her enough.
The game started, and Zach still wasn’t there. I kept casually scanning the crowd behind us between plays, hoping I’d see him jogging down the stairs — but I never did. When the first quarter ended, the Packers were up seven to zero, and my stomach was a mess of knots for both my team and myself.
The energy in the stadium was palpable as the second quarter started, our defense getting the crowd on their feet every time we were trying to fight off another score. Our offense picked up the pace, and when halftime rolled around, we’d tied up the game. Seven to seven.
Zach still hadn’t shown.
“Do you want anything from the stands?” Janet asked. “I’m going to get us a couple of hot chocolates.”
I shook my head. “No, I’m okay. Thank you, though.”
My gaze was fixed on the field, where the halftime entertainment was, though I wasn’t actually watching any of it at all. Janet just gave me another small smile, squeezing my shoulder before she made her way up the benches.
He could still come.
I held onto what little hope I had left as the halftime clock ticked down, but I couldn’t move from the spot where I sat. Even when the next quarter started, the crowd jumping to their feet around me, I still sat and stared.
The third quarter passed in a blur, both teams fighting for their chance in the playoffs. Whoever won had a sure place. Whoever lost still had a chance at wild card.
Everything was on the line for these teams, and I could relate in the biggest way.
I checked my phone, wondering if Zach had texted. But there was nothing. I tried to cheer, tried to focus on the game, but I couldn’t stop wondering if he was coming. I wondered what he was thinking, and that had me coming up blank. He hadn’t said a word the entire time I was at his house. He’d just stared at me, and then the ticket, and I hadn’t a clue what was going through his head.
Maybe he didn’t believe me.
Maybe he did, but it didn’t matter — because now he couldn’t trust me.
Maybe he laughed when I was gone, throwing that ticket in the trash.
Had I ruined it all?
Had I blown my chance?
Just as the time started ticking on the fourth quarter, the first few flakes of snow fell from the gray sky overhead. The stadium roared to life, the jumbotron showing fans catching flakes on their tongues and in their hands as the energy from the game somehow picked up even more.
This was it. One more quarter. One last chance to win the game.
I checked my phone again, one last time, with my heart in my throat as I did so. But there was nothing but a text from Belle.
- Well? Did he show? -
My heart cracked, and I sniffed, eyes watering from the cold. At least, that’s what I told myself. I couldn’t text her back, even though the answer was clear. I wasn’t ready to accept it yet.
He isn’t coming.
My chest squeezed so hard I thought I’d pass out from lack of oxygen, and I leaned back against my chair, not sitting down but not able to hold all my weight on my feet any longer.
There was one quarter left. We were so close to securing our spot in the playoffs.
No one noticed the sad, lonely girl who’d lost a game she never intended to play.
I couldn’t feel the excitement from the crowd roaring. I couldn’t find the urge to high-five anyone as our receiver made another catch, or to jump up and down with everyone else as they belted out the lyrics to “Bear Down.” I couldn’t even feel the snow as it landed on my cheeks.
Tomorrow, I might be okay. But today, I was far from it.
I stood there in a daze, the crowd a distant buzz as I ran over all the what ifs and could haves, should haves in my mind. I should have said more last night when I brought that ticket to him. I should have apologized sooner, should have explained to Zach why I freaked out the way I did. I should have let Belle be there when I opened the letters, maybe she could have talked sense into me before I ruined everything.
It was too late now, but it didn’t stop me from playing it all over and over again, like a game tape where the end was alway the same, no matter how many times I watched it.
A snowflake fell on my lashes, and I blinked it away, taking a deep breath and looking up to the sky as if I’d find answers written in the gray clouds above.
It’s okay, Gemma. It’s okay. Just breathe.
“Oh, my God,” Janet said, brows pulling inward as she stared at something farther up in the stands behind me. “What in the world?”
I squinted, trying to see through the snow and the sea of people. I imagined it was someone dancing, or maybe a fight breaking out. But the more I wiggled around, peering through the open space between fans, the more I realized no one was booing or cheering.
They were laughing.
And when the source of their laughter got close enough for me to see why, my heart stopped beating altogether. My eyes shot open wide, glove-covered hands flying over my mouth.
I only saw him for little specs of time at first — just when the crowd would move the right way, and I could get a glimpse of his dark eyes through the people weaving left and right. He wasn’t smiling, though everyone around him was — pointing and nudging each other as he passed. A few people tried to stop him, tried to take selfies with him, but he just looked around them, through them, searching for something. Or someone.
It was Zach. He was here.
And he was dressed up like a hot dog.
I almost smiled as I watched him, his eyes frantically searching as he fielded off rowdy fans trying to dance with him or high-five him as he passed. He was holding a piece of cardboard in his hands, and he was shivering, his arms and legs exposed under the hot dog costume.
Somehow, he made his way through, and when he got to our row, everyone had to stand up and hug the backs of their cha
irs to let him pass. He still hit them all on the way through, murmuring excuse me’s as I watched him and tried not to laugh.
When there were just a few seats between us, our eyes met, and everything else faded — the crowd, the game, the bitter cold.
He watched me, his eyes softening, a small smile finding his lips as he seemed to catch his first breath. He kept making his way toward me, and I met him in front of the seat that should have been his. My heart was racing, beating against my chest like it wanted to break free and run toward him.
He was here.
He was here.
I didn’t know what that meant. I didn’t know whether it was safe to inhale my next breath of hope, to believe that he was here for me, that this somehow meant we would be okay. So, when there was no one else between us, I waited, crossing my arms over my middle.
Zach’s eyes searched mine as he swallowed, and then, he shook his head, a small laugh escaping from his lips. He looked down at the cardboard in his hands, and then he grimaced, turning it around so I could read the black ink scrawled across the other side.
WIEN-ER-LOSE, YOU’RE THE ONE I WANT BESIDE ME IN THE GAME OF LIFE.
Janet and Roy roared with laughter at the sign, and the rest of the section that could see it joined in, too. I smiled, but cocked my head to the side, unsure of what exactly I was supposed to gather from that sign. I bit my lip, looking up at where Zach watched me before I read it again.
Zach let out a mix between a laugh and a sigh, shaking his head as he let the sign drop. Then, he stepped closer, shortening the distance between us.
“Romance movies.”
It was the first thing he said — the first thing he’d said to me in the last two weeks, since I told him I couldn’t trust him, that we couldn’t be together.
I frowned, trying to understand. “Um…”
“The third thing I’m a big softie about,” he explained. “Romance movies. And books. And just romance in general, I suppose.” He shrugged. “Micah makes fun of me for it all the time, and honestly, I wish I could change it. I wish I wasn’t such a sucker for grand gestures and romantic comedies where somehow everything works out in the end. But damnit, I can’t help myself. And now, when I had the chance to make my own grand gesture, I failed miserably.”
I bit back a smile, covering my mouth with one hand as Zach’s chest deflated.
“It’s fourth quarter. I missed the whole game and let you sit here, shivering in the freaking snow, for Christ’s sake, because I was running around town trying to find a damn hot dog suit. Do you know how hard it is to find one now that Halloween has passed?” Zach blew out a breath. “It’s impossible. And then I borrowed this piece of cardboard and a marker from one of the homeless men outside the stadium. I gave him a hundred bucks for this, Gemma. A hundred bucks! And you know what, he deserved it, but I don’t know if I even deserve for you to listen to anything I say next because I really messed this all up.”
I swallowed, that smile I’d been biting back making its way to the surface as I listened to Zach ramble, the entire crowd around us invested in what he was saying.
“I mean, seriously,” he said, gesturing to his costume. “I thought I could make the romance heroes proud by dressing up as a hot dog?” Zach shook his head. “Matthew McConaughey is rolling in his grave right now.”
“Pretty sure he’s still alive.”
“Well, he’s rolling in his lush, 2500 thread count Egyptian silk sheets, then.”
A soft laugh slipped from my lips, but tears were pooling in my eyes as Zach took another step toward me. There were still people in the background trying to lean in and take pictures with Zach and his costume, and a few people yelled for us to sit down or move out of the way of the next play. But he ignored them all.
His sole focus was on me.
“I’m sorry I didn’t make it here sooner,” he said, brows pulling inward. “I’m sorry you had to sit in the cold, alone, and I’m sorry that this stupid hot dog suit is the best thing I could think of. But the truth is?” He shook his head. “I haven’t been able to think about anything but you, Gemma. Not since the very night we met.”
A few people swooned at that, me included, and Zach inhaled a deep breath as snow started to gather on his costume.
“And I’m sorry I didn’t say anything when you came over last night. Honestly? I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how I felt. The biggest part of me wanted to tell you to stop talking, pull you into my arms, kiss you senseless and just forget about everything else.” Zach smiled at that. “But, there was still a part of me that was scared, a part of me that knew neither of us could ever forget about our pasts, a part of me that heard you telling me you didn’t trust me just a couple of short weeks ago.”
My stomach dropped, heart picking up speed again. “But I—”
“Wait,” he said, holding up one hand. “Just… let me finish.”
He stepped closer, taking my glove-covered hands in his.
“Look, I don’t want you to forget about your past. I don’t want you to run from it, either. I know you’ve been hurt, and I know you’re not completely healed from it yet — and you may never be. Our past has a funny way of becoming part of who we are in the future, and I think that’s the way it’s meant to be. Without the scars, without the pain, we wouldn’t be able to appreciate the times when everything is magical — the days when life is absolute bliss. And trust me when I say that every day I’ve spent with you has been just that — magic.”
I squeezed his hands.
“We don’t have to solve it all over night. I know we’re going to both have to face some fears, and we’re going to have to trust each other. And God, isn’t that the most terrifying thing?”
I laughed, sniffing back tears. “So scary.”
“Like Nightmare on Elm Street scary.”
“I mean, I think those movies are more gory than anything.”
“Just roll with me here, Gemma.”
I chuckled.
“So, yeah, it’s going to be scary, trusting each other and not being able to make promises as to what happens next,” he continued, a slow smile spreading on his face. “But I like you, Gemma. I like that you like ketchup and cheese on your hot dog.”
I laughed, and Zach did, too, stepping closer as he pulled my hands to rest on his chest. His found my waist, and he held me there, his eyes flicking between mine.
“I like that you get so riled up during football games that we almost get kicked out of them. And I like the way you scrunch your nose when you disagree with me, and the way you make jeans and a tank top look sexier than any black dress.” He paused, scanning my attire. “Hell, you even make a giant, puffy jacket look amazing.”
The tears I’d been fighting back slipped out silently, falling over my cheeks, but Zach brushed them both away, his hands sliding in to frame my face.
“I like fighting with you,” he said, shaking his head. “And I like it even more when we get to make up after. Honestly, I don’t know where this all goes, whether we make it to forever or just to next month, but I know I want to try. I know the same thing is true for me now that was true after that very first game.”
“And what’s that?”
He smiled, pressing his forehead to mine. “I can’t walk away from you. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”
I sighed, breathing in his words like oxygen, giving my heart something new to beat for.
“When you showed up at that second game,” I said, voice soft, just a whisper between us. “I said you’d never win. I said you were playing the wrong game.” I shook my head. “But it was me who was wrong. This was never a game. It was always real. And that’s why you couldn’t walk away… it’s why I couldn’t either. Why I still can’t.”
I pulled back, locking my eyes onto his as I raised up onto my toes.
“Wien-Er-Lose,” I said, laughing as Zach choked out a laugh, too. “I want you, too. I lied when I said I didn’t trust you. And I lied when I told myself
I would be fine without you.”
Zach raised both brows, his hands sneaking into the pockets of my coat. “So… are you saying you’re in for another practice round?”
I laughed, shaking my head and looping my arms around his shoulders. “No,” I answered. “This time, I want the real thing. No more practice. Let’s play for keeps.”
Zach smiled, lowering his lips to mine and pausing right when they touched. “I always was.”
And then, he kissed me.
The crowd roared around us, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of a play on the field or because of us. All I knew was that kiss sealed a promise neither one of us could speak out loud, because neither one of us could vow to keep it. We knew the risk we were taking, we knew the leap we were making, but we were holding each other’s hands and doing it anyway.
He could leave. I could leave. We could both end up heartbroken, sitting on the floor of our souls and trying to piece together our lives again.
But, we could also find forever.
We could take the next steps together — toward a year, five, or maybe, forever.
And that was a game worth playing.
Zach tried to wrap me in his embrace more, but his costume got in the way, and I laughed, breaking our kiss and pushing back to take it all in. My hands ran over the puffy buns before settling on the red, air-filled hot dog that surrounded his body.
“I’m touching your wiener,” I said, waggling my brows.
Zach groaned, running his hand under my jacket to squeeze my ass. “Does that mean I get to touch your buns later, just to make things fair?”
“Hmmm…” I ran my hands up over his shoulders again, letting my wrists hang behind his neck. “Well, guess it depends on what happens during this game. We might have some celebrating to do.”
I leaned in to kiss him again as a playful growl left his throat, but before I could deepen the kiss, Janet tapped me on the shoulder.
“You two are on the jumbotron again!” she said.
Zach and I looked up at the screen, and sure enough, there we were — in all our hot dog glory. We both laughed as the crowd started cheering, and Zach pulled me into him, dipping me in a dramatic fashion as everyone cheered louder. When the screen changed back to the players on the field, Zach lifted my arm in his like he’d just won me in a championship fight, and our whole section roared one more time.
The Wrong Game Page 30