Love, Ally by Hannah Gray

eighteen

Ally

The thing about football games … the energy is always explosive. I thought football games in high school were a big deal, but they don’t hold a candle to football at Brooks. This shit is always crazy.

“Astronaut in the Ocean” by Masked Wolf fills the stadium as the players run through the tunnel and onto the field. Jumping into the air while they pump their arms up and down, yelling at the crowd.

Instinctively, right away I spot Storms on the back of jersey number twenty-two.

Even in his uniform, face covered by his helmet, and hundreds of feet away, he still makes my heart do that annoying fluttering thing it does that makes me feel like a damn butterfly is attacking my stomach. The way he moves, the way he walks, the way he commands attention with all eyes on him—it’s just mesmerizing.

How can someone who is fighting so many battles inside move through life with so much grace? It’s actually maddening, knowing all these other bitches are likely watching him, salivating.

I know his adoptive parents are here somewhere, in their designated family seats. I don’t want to meet them without him here; it doesn’t seem right. So, instead, I agreed to dinner with them after the game. I could tell Cole was anxious about meeting them alone, so when he asked me, I instantly said yes. Anything I can do to make him more comfortable, I’ll do it.

Well, other than agreeing to never walk home from work in the dark. Because come on, I’m a grown-ass woman.

He warms up, throwing the ball to a teammate. I’m pretty sure it’s his roommate Weston. Though I can’t be positive. I have Cole’s ass down pat. I’d know that beautiful piece of meat anywhere. But this guy, nice as his butt might be, he isn’t my Storm.

After he fires the ball to his teammate, his gaze turns to the stands, finding me. Reaching into the small, hidden pocket in his football uniform pants, he pulls out a folded-up letter before holding it to his heart.

Even from my seat, I can tell the letter is tattered and worn from years of carrying it around.

I know what it is without even seeing the words inside. He carried it around for years after I gave it to him, and I guess he’s never stopped. And that makes my damn heart squeeze inside my chest. I’ll never know what I did to deserve him. He could have anybody in the world, yet he chooses me. Every single day.

Smiling, I nod and blow him a kiss. And then … I swoon. I swoon because he’s a six-foot-two, two-hundred-pound giant, made of pure muscle, and he’s comfortable enough to hold up the damn letter I wrote him when we were sixteen. I swoon because he’s comfortable enough to not give a shit that we’re surrounded by a stadium full of people and many of them have their eyes on him. To Cole, it’s just us.

Tucking it back into his pants pocket, he goes back to warming up. Though I don’t miss his head turning in my direction occasionally. Almost like he wants to make sure I’m still here, that I haven’t left him again.

“Um … what the hell was that?” Sloane says with her mouth wide open, completely gawking at my man.

“What?” I play dumb.

When she stares at me with her mouth hanging open, I shrug. “Just a thing. Between Cole and me.”

“Ohh, now, he’s Cole, not Storm. When you called him Storm, it seemed so less personal than Cole.” She says his name in a low, seductive tone before swatting me on the knee. “For real, what was that? I need some sweetness in my life. And that looked sweet.”

Playing with the torn fabric around the hole in my jeans, I mindlessly pull the loose threads between my fingers as I tell her what he just held up. “It’s just a letter that I wrote to him before his team got on the bus and headed to state for the championship. He was only a sophomore and already captain and starting quarterback—he was that good. But he was nervous. It was his first time going to state, and I wanted to make him feel better.” I smile at the memory of sneaking into the locker room before the team was in there. I stuffed it into his uniform and ducked out of there minutes before all of the guys filed in.

Her eyebrows pull together as she puts her hand on her chest. “And he kept it?” She shakes her head. “He freaking kept it? You’re kidding me.”

Looking back at the field, I smile. “I guess he did.”

I think back to the letter and when I wrote it. English class, block B, right before lunch. Watching his nerves get to him got to me too. I hated to see him doubt himself so much.

To my Storm.

I know you’re nervous for tonight. But trust me, you don’t need to be. You have more talent in one of your testicles than the other guys have in their whole bodies.

You are so much better than you know. You are so much more than you know. Just remember that.

You’ve got this game. I’ll be there, cheering you on, just like I always do—loud and annoying. And I promise that I always will. I also promise to forever be your biggest fan, to always believe in you, even when you don’t believe in yourself, and to love you and never leave. Who could leave such a fine ass?

I love you so much more than I could ever write on this damn paper. Thanks for putting up with my moody self.

Forever and always. In the good and in the grit.

Love,

Ally

xo