Page 85 of Worth the Try
My cheeks burn as I twist my lips. “Not exactly.”
Sam cackles. “Iknewit!”
Allyson appears, and I make the introductions. Kari shows up a few minutes later.
“Miss Ma’am,” Kari says, circling her finger at my shirt. “You trying to break hearts today?”
“She doesn’t know that Ansel’s the one the ladies are here to see, does she?” Allyson jokes.
“Oh, is that how it works here?” Sam says.
“Look at the signs,” Allyson says. “I’m not lying.”
We grab bottles of water and head to the seats outside, and Allyson starts pointing them out. “See?”
I have to hold back my laughter as I scan the crowd. Sure enough, there are more than a few handmade posters that are Ansel-specific. One proposes marriage, and another begs the opposing team to leave his pretty face intact. A third offers to be the next thing he puts on his thigh. But it’s not just Ansel the crowd is here for—plenty of the guys have fans.
“This is really cool,” I tell them.
“Not bad for an American crowd,” Sam says.
Kari laughs. “Sam, this isamazingfor an American crowd—trust me.”
Soon enough, the announcer brings us all to attention and introduces the New England Free Jacks. The guys run onto the pitch and take their spots on the sidelines. When the Granite is introduced, the crowd loses its mind. But when they run out, I’m shocked to see that Ansel is in gear to actually play, a big number 10 on his back like always, not the coaching getup I saw him leave in.
“Um, what’s going on?” Allyson asks.
“Don’t look at me,” I say with a shrug. Then I grin. “But if he’s playing, then that’s awesome, because I finally get to see it!”
The announcer seems to be in on the plan, however, because he doesn’t break stride in announcing the line-up. Sure enough, Ansel is slated to play fly-half.
Ansel gathers the team around him, and something in my chest squeezes to see him like this: leading. Being looked up to. He’s spent the past two weeks utterly focused on getting the team ready for this game, his office utter chaos, strewn in yellow notepad paper sporting half-drawn plays. I want nothing more than for them to win. He deserves it so much.
The game kicks off, and I’m riveted. I’ve spent the summer learning all I can about the game, watching old videos, and getting Rosie’s assistance on things when I can. I could have asked Ansel, sure, but where’s the fun in that? It’s been far more entertaining to ask Rosie and hear her explanations.
“Go go go!” Sam screams, bringing me out of my haze as she shakes my arm and jumps up and down.
I look, and see Ansel absolutely flying down the pitch, ball cradled against him, his powerful legs moving in a blur as he eats up the yards. But then the other team is on him, and he’s tossing the ball back to another guy, who tosses to another, and another. Since it’s against the rules to toss the ball forward, the backward tossing moves the ball down the pitch to the try line, but it’s slow-going. Ansel gets open again, and the crowd goes wild as the ball makes its way back into his hands. He turns, narrowly missing a tackle by a massive player on the other team, and shoves his arm out to push another player back as he hauls the distance to the try line.
Right as he closes in, two steps away, he’s tackled. But it doesn’t matter, because Ansel flattens himself out, reaching his arm forward with the ball and getting it right over the line before his body hits the pitch.
“Yes!” I’m yelling and hollering as Rosie’s arms fly up, popcorn spilling everywhere.
Ansel pops up and tosses the ball to the ref. Then he turns to the VIP section and points at us before making a heart with his hands and putting it over his heart.
The crowd roars. I don’t hesitate to make the same heart over my chest right back, and when I look down at Rosie, she’s smiling brightly up at me, her hands in the same position. “Is that something he always does for you, Rosie?”
She shakes her head, beaming. “Nope. That’s new. He told me to pay lots of attention because he’d do something new if he scored a try, so that was it!”
I might burst with pride and happiness.That’s my man. And next to me? The sweetest little girl in the world. I hug her to me.
We continue to watch, and it takes everything in me not to chew my nails to the quick with as stressful as the game is. Ansel plays almost the entire game, and every time the cameras give us a close-up of him on the scoreboard, he looks nothing but stressed.
“You ready for the gala?” Kari asks.
I nod. “I still think it’s wild that they have it the same night as the exhibition game.”
“Fans love it, but you’re right. It’s a lot for the players. But tell me you’re wearing the gown you showed me.”
