Crush (Crash #3)(80)

I knew we were supposed to have the nicest seats in the house up here, but I was jealous of even the fans in the nosebleed section. I'd have to talk with Jude and see if he could score me some tickets out in the stands. I missed my front-and-center seat, where I could scream his name and pretend that he heard me. I missed seeing his ass in spandex from up close, and I knew I'd miss our post-touchdown kiss even more.

A minute or so before kickoff, the door burst open and a familiar face waltzed in. "What's up, bitches?" Sybill said, filling the room with her voice and energy. I was able to release the breath I'd been holding for I didn't know how long. Greeting a few of the girls as she headed to the food table, she stopped when she saw me.

I waved.

"What the hell are you doing stuffed in the corner, Lucy?" she said, snatching a cola from the table as she crossed the room toward me. Another smile, a real one, blossomed when I checked out her wardrobe: jeans, sneakers, and a jersey. "These bitches put you in a time-out for your fashion offenses?" She winked as she took a seat next to me. "I mean, come on. What are you thinking, showing up to a football game without your Saturday-night streetwalking finest?" 

Was that a laugh I just heard? Coming from me?

Couldn't be. I hadn't been in a laughing mood all week.

"Yeah. My bad. I think next time I'll be banished to the stands with the rest of the fashion-impaired." That sounded like even a bit of wit. Was the Lucy Larson snarkiness making a comeback?

I wanted to get up and dance.

And then I remembered I had to take it easy. Because I was pregnant. Doctor's orders.

A smile and the snark had never disappeared so quickly.

I swore I could feel my belly growing whenever I remembered there was something inside there.

"Are you excited?" Sybill asked, nudging me as she cracked open her cola.

"Yeah. Excited, nervous, you name it," I said.

"Yeah, it's always us who worry our heads off. The guys are cool as cucumbers out there," she said. "But don't worry. I watched Jude's warm-up, and that boy is primed and ready to get us to one and zero tonight."

"You got to watch him warm up?"

"The kids and me always show up an hour before the game to watch the players get ready."

"You brought the kids?" I turned in my seat, looking for a handful of munchkins. "Where are they?"

"God willing, they're still in their seats listening to my mama," she said. "But they're most likely about to jump down on the field and ask their dad to sing them 'We Are the Champions.'" She took another sip of her soda. "Not that that happened last season . . ."

"Wait"-I grabbed her arm-"you sit down in the stands?"

"Front row, baby," she said proudly.

"By choice?"

"Mostly. But it would be so damn funny to see the look on these broads' faces if I ever dragged my four little twerps up here, I might just give it a go for fun," she said, glancing at a few of the girls and shaking her head. "This is all a little too Emerald City for me, you know? I'm more a jeans-and-hot-dog kind of girl."

"Sybill, I know this might seem forward, given that I've met you all of a handful of times in my life, but I love you," I confessed. "Would you mind if I sat with you at future games?"

"I'd love a little company that isn't my mama or a spawn of mine."

"Sweet. I'll talk to Jude about scoring me some tickets with you, because I don't think I can handle this Barbie brigade for the rest of the season."

"I'm sure he won't have a problem getting you a ticket. Deon started me out up here, too." She laughed, looking lost in a memory. "Lord knows I love that man, but sometimes he's just too damn overprotective."

"I know the feeling."

"Jude said you've been real busy this week, being back to school and all. How have you been holding up?"

The waterworks were twisting on. That one question could reduce me to a near blubbering mess was further evidence that I was an emotional, hormonal wreck.

"Not bad," I said, looking away.

"But not so great either, eh?" Sybill asked.

I'd gone from being happy at seeing her to wishing she'd leave in the span of a couple questions.

"Not so great, either," I admitted.

"So . . ." She twisted in her seat to face me. Her eyes dropped to my stomach. "How far along are you, sweetie?"

I wasn't sure if my mouth or my tears dropped first.

"It's all right, baby," she said, reaching for my hand.

"How did you know?" I asked, peering around the room. No one was paying us any attention. I doubted they'd pay us any attention if I got naked and started doing jumping jacks.