Page 32 of Spiral
I don’t look at him, instead pretending to fiddle with the zippers of my backpack.
Doesn’t he have a game to play?
“Let me carry that for you,” he says, reaching out a hand to remove the weight of my backpack from my shoulder.
“I don’t need your help,” I snap, my eyes wandering across the field to Natalia Bryer, who’s warming up in her TU Titans cheerleading uniform. Her body is bronzed and her long legs effortlessly toned. Her slim figure is enhanced by the soft curves of her hips. Her hair, chocolate brown and curled, doesn’t seem to have an ounce of frizz in the Texas humidity.
My throat tightens.
“I understand,” he says, hesitantly, and for a moment I swear I see his lip quivering as if he’s holding back tears. “Just wave to me if you need me, and I’ll come over here.”
You’re seeing things, Georgia. He isn’t upset. He’s dating the supermodel across the field.
“I’m not staying back here,” I retort, slipping the other strap of my backpack over my shoulder. Without another word, I begin to saunter towards the edge of the sideline, not bothering to wait for him to respond.
“Whoa, Georgia – hold on.” Henry steps in front of me, his muscular figure eclipsing the blinding sunlight. “I can’t let you sit up there. You could get hurt.”
“Why should you care?” I interrupt, my tone cold and apathetic. “I told you I don’t need you to protect me, Henry. I’m here to do the article, and I can’t see from back there.”
He pauses for a moment, his expression stern and unrevealing.
“I know you don’t need me to protect you, Georgia. But I’ll always try.”
What the hell is he talking about? Shouldn’t he be in a room somewhere screwing his model girlfriend? Or maybe, I don’t know, playing the freaking football game that already started?
The crowd erupts in cheers as the first play takes the Titans to the 30-yard line.
I scoff, defiantly moving towards the sideline and taking my place on the edge of the field. Coach Bryer looks at me curiously, one eyebrow raised, before altering his gaze to meet Henry’s, who shrugs his shoulders towards his coach. Raking a muscular hand through his hair, he sighs exasperatedly.
“Please go back to the table, Georgia. It’s dangerous.”
“What do you think this is, Henry?!” I hiss, my cheeks glowing red. “I’m here to cover the football game, so I am going to watch the football game. You can go back to Natalia now and stop pretending to give a shit about me.”
“What?” he exclaims, his expression incredulous. “That’s not–”
The Titans score a touchdown and the crowd erupts in thunderous cheers. He glances over as the team lines up for the next play, their captain and quarterback still standing on the sidelines.
My eyes wander across the field with the momentary distraction, again landing on Natalia Bryer as she excitedly performs a touchdown cheer. Her hair bounces, perfect curls still formed in ringlets and delicately tied back with pieces of maroon ribbon.
As I watch her in that brief moment, I can’t help but picture her in Henry’s room, moments after I had stormed out in tears. She was wearing the tiniest silver dress I’d ever seen that night, the silky fabric delicately clinging to her curves. I imagine her finding him in his room – and him immediately forgetting I had ever been in it. I can practically feel the way his muscular, tanned hands wandered around her body, one unzipping her dress as the other cups her large breast that’s also somehow perfectly perky. She’d moan in delight as he kisses up her neck, his erection tenting his jeans as she rubs her body against him...
My stomach churns with hurt and disgust as the cheering crowd falls quiet, and Henry’s emerald eyes once again meet my own.
“I thought you cared about me before you punched Patrick,” I admit, stepping closer towards him on the edge of the sideline. “I thought maybe you still cared about me before you fucked Natalia Bryer after I spent the night sobbing to you. But now all I want is for you to LEAVE ME ALO–”
“GEORGIA–”
Henry’s arms wrap around my body faster than I can register my name. I feel the scratchy turf beneath my arms and back as I hit the ground, the sun instantly warming my face and chest. Time seems to slow as the cheers from the crowd morph and blur. A small crowd gathers quickly nearby, with Coach Bryer and his assistants yelling unintelligible instructions to those around them.
“Get the medic, god damnit!” I hear Coach Bryer command as I begin to regain clarity. “Anderson’s down!”
I look over and notice Todd Watson, the TU wide receiver, sitting against the turf. His helmet is between his knees as he buries his face in his hands, groaning.
“Are you alright, Georgia?” Coach Bryer asks as he trots in my direction, one hand extended.
I take it, and he pulls me up delicately. My mind feels fuzzy and my vision slightly blurry, as if I’d been hit on the head.
“Y-Yes,” I stammer, looking around me wearily. “What happened? Where’s Henry?”