Chapter 52 Chapter Forty-Nine
Alex point of view
The third quarter starts the way rivalry games always do, violent, fast, unforgiving.
Westbrook kicks deep. Chris brings it out to the twenty-seven. Decent field position.
I clap my hands in the huddle. "We're going straight for the attack. No hesitation"
The defense shows blitz early. I adjust the protection, voice sharp. "Slide left. Demi, hot route"
He nods.
The snap hits my hands and the pocket collapses almost instantly. I take one step back and fire to Demi on the quick slant.
He catches it, and gets drilled.
This time, the flag comes out.
Late hit. Fifteen yards.
I point downfield. "That's ours."
The ref nods.
The crowd roars.
We move faster now. Screens. Crossers. Runs mixed in just enough to keep them honest.
The Titans started arguing with each other, frustration seeping through their swagger.
Then it happens.
Second and long. I drop back, scanning. Demi breaks deep again, safety shaded his way. I look him off and pump fake.
The linebacker jumps.
Demi cuts inside, wide open.
I step into the throw-
And feel the hit.
My shoulder snaps back as a helmet slams into my ribs. The ball sails off-target, wobbling before it hits the turf.
Roughing the passer. Another flag.
I push myself up, breath knocked loose. Coach is yelling. The Titans' bench is furious.
As I jog back to the huddle, Demi's there, hand briefly gripping my arm.
"You good?" he asks.
I nod, though my side burns. "Next play."
Inside the red zone again.
Third and goal from the six.
I call the play I've been saving.
"Trips left. Z-corner post."
Demi's eyes sharpen.
The snap comes clean. I fake the quick throw, then roll right. Defense bites hard.
Demi breaks to the corner, then cuts back across the end zone.
I throw.
He catches it with both hands and gets smashed a split second later.
Touchdown.
I shout, fist pumping as the ref's arms go up.
Tie game.
14–14.
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Demi’s point of view
The hit hurts so darn much.
Not in a scary way, just enough to remind me I'm still human.
I jog back to the sideline after the extra point, chest heaving, ribs screaming.
The Titans' corner mutters something under his breath.
I lean in. "Scoreboard."
He glares.
Westbrook gets the ball and comes out swinging. Power runs. Short passes. They're trying to grind us down, take control back.
On third and short, their running back barrels through for the first down.
Then on the next play-
A crack echoes across the field.
Our linebacker goes down, clutching his knee.
The stadium goes quiet.
As trainers rush out, Westbrook's sideline cheers.
I see red.
Alex stands near me, hands on his hips, jaw tight. "They're playing fucking reckless."
"Then we’re going to play smarter," I say. "And faster."
The injured player is helped off. Game resumes.
Westbrook stalls and punts.
We get the ball at midfield.
This is it.
Alex gathers us in. "We’re going to take the lead now."
I line up wide, muscles aching, lungs burning, mind laser-focused. The corner gives me space for the first time all night.
That's a mistake.
I explode off the line, burning past him on a deep post. The safety hesitates.
The ball comes.
I catch it clean and turn upfield, sprinting.
Forty yards.
Thirty.
Then, pain.
A helmet crashes into my lower back from behind, well after the catch.
I tumble forward, skidding across the turf.
The whistle shrieks.
Another flag.
Personal foul. Ejection.
The safety stands over me, yelling, before the refs drag him away.
I lie there for a second, staring at the lights, chest tight, not from the hit.
From Alex's voice.
"DEMI!"
He's there again, kneeling beside me, breaking every rule we've set for ourselves.
I grab his wrist. "I'm fine," I whisper. "Stay focused."
He looks like he wants to argue.
I squeeze his hand once, then let go.
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.
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Alex's point of view
I've never wanted to break a rule more than I do right now.
Seeing Demi on the ground, again, it does something to me. Makes everything narrow and hot and dangerous.
But he's right.
We're in scoring position. First and goal after the penalty.
I take a breath. Center myself.
Two runs get us to the two-yard line.
Third and goal.
Coach signals run again.
I shake my head.
I look at Demi. He's lined up tight, eyes locked on mine.
I audible.
Slant.
The snap comes. I take one step and fire.
Demi catches it through contact, twisting as he crosses the plane.
Touchdown.
The stadium erupts like it might collapse.
21–14.
I jog over, heart pounding, and pull him into a brief, legal shoulder bump.
"Nice catch," I say, voice neutral.
His smile is anything but real right now.
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Demi's point of view
We're winning.
For the first time all night, Westbrook looks unsure.
They try to answer back, forcing throws, rushing plays. Our defense stiffens, fueled by the crowd and pure spite.
End of the third quarter.
21–14, East Eagles.
As we jog to the sideline, Alex walks beside me, close enough that I can hear him breathe.
"You still with me?" he asks quietly.
I nod. "Always."
The fourth quarter looms.
And Westbrook isn't done yet.