I'M BEAT UP but adrenaline is keeping me hyped. I give a single clap and we break huddle. We've done this next play a million times and it's usually good for a few yards. I fake a handoff, drop back, and lift my arm. A Scorpion hits me from behind and the ball flies away. Luckily, a Pronghorn picks it up and scrambles for those few yards we needed so desperately. I pick myself up from the field and feel a twinge in my hip.

No time to think about it.

We make steady gain and I glance at the clock. Six minutes, forty-four seconds. We need a touchdown here or we don't have a shot at winning this game. My teeth clench against my mouthpiece as we line up on the line of scrimmage. I need Randy Byer to catch this pass. He runs full tilt to the end zone and this time when my arm goes back, my offensive line does its job, and no one gets near me.

Randy has two defensive players in the mix. His hands go up as do four others. One player tips the ball and Randy reaches back farther than should be physically possible.

Touchdown.

The stadium goes nuts. Jordan makes the extra point and we're now down by seven.

I'm yelling "defense" with the rest of the offense on the sideline as our defense holds Killian at his forty yard line. They send in their kicker for a field goal. A few seconds later, word comes down the line that Jordan knows this guy's stats and he'll never make the kick. I smile and watch as the ball goes wide.

"Fucking yeh," a player yells beside me.

After a touchback kick, I take the ball on the twenty-five yard line. We scramble and fight our way to our two. I hand off to Kareem, who's filling in for an injured player. He's a big dude and barrels through the defense, launching himself up and over the last players in his way for six. The fans go crazy.

I run over to Coach Morely and Coach Mitchel, who are talking. I know before I get there that they're planning a two-point play. Coach gives me the signal and I run back onto the field to set up.

I tune out the crowd and the huffing and puffing from the players beside me. The play goes off perfectly and we're up by one. The noise level from the fans is off the charts. Stomping feet, clapping hands, yelling, and screaming. It's a zoo.

Killian brings the ball back into our territory and moves close enough for his kicker to have a fair chance. He makes the kick for three. The two-minute timeout hits after our next play. I run to the sideline and listen to Coach lay out the plan. I half-turn and Jordan is standing there.

"You get at least to the fifty and I'll get it through the goalposts."

Brave words and a record kick for our team if she pulls it off. "I'll do better than that, baby. If I can't score a touchdown, I'll make it an easy kick for you." Yeah, I don't give a fuck who hears me call her baby. I slap my helmet back on and run onto the field with the image of her amazing smiling lips in my head.

It takes four plays to move the ball to the Scorpions' thirty-six yard line. We're running out of time and there are only eight seconds left in the game before I take a knee, leaving us with three on the clock. I should feel bad that this first game will come down to her kick but I don't. This is her job and dammit it's do or die. This is what she's paid for but more than that-this is where her heart is.

The stadium noise ceases when special teams take their positions on the field. I inhale sharply and then hold my breath when the center hikes the ball. Fergus catches it and Jordan is there. The ball flies high and flips end over end. It's slightly to the right and my fists clench. The ball sails between the goalposts with inches to spare. The stadium erupts and Jordan Givens wins our first game of the season against the Super Bowl champs.

I'm surrounded, hugged, and slapped on the back. We're practically dancing onto the field. I can't see Jordan. There's not a person in the stadium sitting down.

The Scorpions look shocked, while the Pronghorns celebrate.

***

Jordan

I autographed so many jerseys and pink footballs my hand hurts. Little girls and a few boys await their turn patiently. I'm still high on the win and wonder how many days it will take to fade.

"I want to play football with the boys too," a young girl informs me.

I take a knee, place my hand on her arm, and smile. "Never forget you can do anything you want if you set your mind to it." I write, "Never stop dreaming" add my prerequisite, "Play like a girl," and sign my name on the back of her shirt. I'm sweaty and dirty, my teeth are gritty, and I don't care.

Before I head to the locker room, I give a short interview to Cloe Smythe. Mike Goodwyn is thankfully absent. She gives my hand a quick squeeze before going all professional on me. Neither of us can stop our grins, and I'm still on cloud nine when I jog off to the locker room.

I hear the team from down the hallway and Bobby waves at me and runs back inside before I enter. I should have known-tampons hit me from every direction. Hugs and back slaps take their place while laughter reigns.

"Good job, Givens," Coach Mitchel says with one of his rare smiles.

When I'm finally able to turn away, I look for Aiden and don't see him. He was favoring his left leg toward the end of the game, which means he has the normal bumps and bruises. My guess is he's in the training room. It's funny but after so many complaints about me having a space inside the locker room, the players don't seem to mind me being here after our win. Most are in various stages of undress. I spot Mike Goodwyn interviewing a few players in the corner and I make a hasty retreat to my private dressing room.

I close the door and turn. Warm hands grab my shoulders and pull me in close. Aiden's fingers go to my braid and he unweaves it until my hair spills around my shoulders. He's of course staring at my lips the entire time. His large fingers dig into my hair and he tips my head to meet his kiss. It's a heart-stopping doozy with lips, tongue, and teeth. He's showered and is now wearing board shorts and a tight T-shirt. His erection pokes into my belly. He doesn't seem to care that I'm still sweaty from the game and need to get my uniform and pads off.

I moan into his mouth when he slips one hand under my jersey and runs it up my side until he comes to a shoulder pad.

"This. Off," he groans into my mouth.

I lift my arms and he works the tight-fitting jersey over the pads. He peppers kisses across my face as he unbuckles the pads. They clang to the floor a few seconds later. I'm still working on the tie to my pants. The damn thing has decided this precise moment is the time to knot.

There's a shout from outside the door to my private haven and we jump apart. I bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud. Aiden's hands land on the wall on either side of me and his head tips down so he's resting against my chest. We're both breathing hard.