I nod and head toward the stairs. “It’s relentless.”
“He probably wants to ask you out.”
I grimace at the thought. Something about him creeps me out. I head toward my room and strip off my winter gear. I find myself standing in my mirror with my credentials hanging down. I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. Pulling out my phone, I scroll until I find Noah’s name. My thumb hovers, but I don’t press. I haven’t called him in so long I honestly don’t know what I’d say if he answered… or if she did.
Instead, I scroll up to Liam’s name and call him.
“Uncle Liam, I have news.” I proceed to tell him, thanking him repeatedly for helping me get to this place in my life. He tells me he’ll be at Noah’s game, but will try to watch the Bears game as well, hoping to see me on the sidelines. My next call is to my parents. My mom’s excited, and my dad is reserved. He’s never really grasped my love of football but has always encouraged me to follow my passion.
The rest of the week I’m a mess, studying not only for my classes, but the stats for the upcoming game. I focus heavily on the Bears, but also their opponent, the Bengals. On paper, which means nothing on Sunday, the Bengals are favored to win. Still, I take my notes, jotting down things I need to watch for.
Sleep evades me, and by the time my alarm goes off Sunday morning, I’m a zombie. I down coffee, shower, drink more coffee, do my hair and get dressed before downing yet another cup while I’m on the phone with my mother, who is basking in the warm temperatures of the Bahamas with my aunts.
Arriving early with my press credentials hanging happily around my neck, I am downright giddy and loving every second of lifting the badge to show security that I’m allowed onto the field. Walking through the tunnel, I take it all in. While the noise level is high now, it will be thunderous when kick-off happens. People start to fill the seats, while many young kids are hanging over the railings trying to grab a player or two for an autograph. The smell of popcorn and hot dogs fill the air.
And the reason I’m here… the media outlets are setting up on every corner. Microphones are being tested, makeup done so they look perfect when they’re on air. This is what I want. I turn at the sounds of applause and find the Bears coming out of the tunnel. They slap the hands of their littlest fans as they go by.
Being here early has its perks, at least it does for me since I’m the newbie. I’m the one learning. An NFL field is vastly different from high school or college and the last thing I want is to find myself tripping over some random piece of equipment or find myself standing in the wrong spot. I want to know my place on the field before someone yells at me.
As the Bears warm-up, I start taking notes, writing down everything from what stretches they’re doing to how many are running full sprints. None of this is important for my article, but it keeps my mind busy and keeps me from gawking at the quarterback, Kyle Zimmerman. Each time I look at the field, his eyes are on me. The first time I noticed, I smiled and quickly went back to my notepad, but now I can feel his eyes burning into me.
“Watch out,” I hear, looking up in time to sidestep an errant pass made by Kyle, who is rushing toward me. I pick the pigskin up and throw it back to him, with a perfect spiral I might add.
“Whoa, on target and everything,” he says with a smile so wide that his eyes appear to be twinkling. “Sorry about that, sometimes the ball just gets away from me.”
“You’re the quarterback. It’s your job to make sure the ball hits your mark each and every time. The ball should never get away from you. You should command it to do your work for you.”
He smiles and pushes his hand through his hair. There’s a bit of laughter coming from him as well, which in turn makes me smile, but I try to hide it. I know football, better than most, thanks to Noah.
“I’ve just been schooled by a reporter,” he says, shaking his head.
“Not exactly.”
“What do you mean?” he asks.
“I’m a broadcast journalism major at Northwestern, but football is my life.”
His smile gets wider. “Let me get this straight, not only do you understand the game, but you can throw a wicked spiral?”
I shrug as if it’s no big deal.
“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.” The thought that Kyle Zimmerman is impressed with me sends my heartbeat into a tailspin. He places his hand over his heart and bows. I could easily say I’m following right behind him with his dark hair and five o’clock shadow. I haven’t dated much since I moved to Evanston. In fact, dating in high school rarely happened either. Most of the guys always thought that Noah and I had a thing, and while there was a time in my life that I wanted us to be, we’re nothing more than best friends or at least we were.
“Have dinner with me after the game? Win or lose, you and I go out and enjoy each other’s company.”
“We barely know each other.”
Kyle steps closer. He smells like man mixed with sweat. “I’m Kyle,” he says.
“I’m Peyton.” His much larger hand engulfs mine, covering it completely.
“Peyton as in Manning?”
“As in Powell-James, but if you’re asking if my father was a Peyton Manning fan, the answer is yes.” He wasn’t exactly, but when Elle and I were born, Peyton Manning was one of the best quarterbacks in the league and his brother Eli was a rookie. I think for my father, being saddled with twin girls, he wanted to do something to compensate for being the only man in the house. I never asked my mom why she allowed our father to name us after the Mannings… probably because I know it still hurts her sometimes to talk about him. Even though she loves my dad Harrison, I know she misses my father, Mason.
“I like it,” he says, winking. “I gotta go to work.” He motions toward the field with his head and that’s when I make the mistake of looking. His teammates are standing there, gawking at us, with a few of them trying to hide their laughter behind their hands. If they had their jerseys on, I’d make a note of who they were so I could be sure to mention any screw-ups they had during the game. Luckily for them, I’m not a Bears fan and I don’t have their roster memorized.
I try not to watch as Kyle runs back toward the rest of the team, and when he looks at me over his shoulder, I can feel my cheeks turning red. Of course, it could be because the wind is blowing and it’s cold despite the sun being out or it’s because I like that he’s taken an interest in me.