Page 28 of The Linebacker

The game commenced. The visiting team was awarded first possession. The Ducks kicked the ball, and one of the players from the other team caught it and tried to run toward their goal line, only to be almost immediately tackled by a Ducks defensive player.

Amil and Jalen both stood and cheered, giving each other a high five and grinning, and holy shit, were they actually getting along?

Two minutes into the second quarter, the refs made a bad call. Amil and Jalen both leaped to their feet, both shouting the same argument against the call.

Bonding over bad calls—who would have expected it? Certainly not Amil.

With ten minutes left in the second quarter, Royce and Morgan left their seats, sandwiched by security personnel.

Amil must have had a confused look on his face, because Jalen said, “Royce is an alum. Just donated a bunch of money to update the team’s locker room. He’s being honored during halftime.”

“Ah.” That made sense.

Jalen added, “Morgan is the coach’s daughter. Plus, of course, she was raised here. And she’s famous. So I’m sure she’s involved in the ceremony.”

“No shit.” That explained how they met. Although Amil was well aware of how easy it was for professional sports figures to mingle with famous actors and musicians and influencers. Mitch Madden was always hanging around in the tunnel at 49ers games. He loved to shake hands with the players, tried to talk smack, like they were all buddies.

Amil had never really cared for the man, truth be told. His personality was oily. Fake. He was an actor, so maybe that was to be expected, although Morgan was just as famous and she was one of the most genuine people Amil had ever met.

The quarter ended and fans surged to their feet, heading to the concessions or to wait in line for the restrooms.

No one in their section left their seats, except for Emma and Diana, who, Jalen informed him, had been granted permission to go down onto the field to snap pictures of this event for the Mountain Lions’ publicity purposes.

Amil watched Diana instead of the ceremony. She was so professional. Shaking hands with the coach and other administrative people from the university. Whatever she said left several of them laughing.

She was damn good at her job.

She was also almost painfully beautiful, but honestly, Amil could admit he was probably biased.

With a microphone in her hand, Morgan walked onto the field, waving at the crowd. She introduced herself then had to wait for the cheers and clapping to subside. She introduced her dad, the warmth in her voice loud and clear. After intro’ing the A.D. and the president of the university, she handed off the microphone and hurried to the sideline.

The president talked at length about Royce’s accomplishments, both while he was a student and now in the NFL, before thanking him for his generous donation and presenting him with a plaque, after which the entire group posed for pictures.

The ceremony ended with applause loud enough you’d think someone had just scored a touchdown, and then the participants hurried off the field so the two teams could warm up before the second half started.

Two plays in, after nothing terribly exciting happened, Jalen nudged him. “Come on, man, let’s go get some snacks. Plus, I have to piss.”

Amil arched his brows. “You need me to hold your hand?”

“No, I need you to hold my dick,” Jalen retorted. “Get your ass up and come with me.”

Amil did as he was told, following Jalen up the stairs to the nearest restroom. And since he had to piss, too, they went in together, which was only mildly awkward. They shared a locker room, after all, so that wasn’t what was awkward.

It was this whole playing nice bit.

Was Jalen playing? Or was he making a genuine attempt to bury the hatchet? Amil wished he could tell because he didn’t like this hesitancy he felt each time the guy said or did something. He wanted to assume the best, but with their history—and his still simmering feelings for Diana—it was hard to fully trust.

“It’s cool, man,” Jalen said after purchasing two packages of peanuts and shoving one of them at Amil’s chest. “Quit overthinking it.”

“Hard not to,” Amil admitted as they made their way back to their seats. “We didn’t exactly start on positive footing.”

“Yeah, well, I guess you aren’t as bad of a person as I wanted you to be.”

“Thanks?” He worded it as a question, mostly because this was a hell of a bizarre conversation. Welcome, but still bizarre.

They continued chatting, tossing mild insults back and forth, commenting on the game, getting annoyed when the Ducks made a bad play, until the Ducks ultimately won, 34-10.

While they filed out of the stadium, Jalen pulled out his phone and asked for Amil’s number. Amil rattled off his digits, and a moment later, he received a text.