Elle
The football stadium at school is packed. It's the championship game and Country Day are hosting. So far it's been really tough, neither side giving many points away, but nearing the end of the third quarter, our guys have a narrow lead. Noah's been amazing out there the whole damn time. He looks larger than life, somehow, if that's even possible considering what a giant he already is.
For some reason, even after all the games I've watched over the years, I never realized how much he actually does on the field. But after he opened up and told me how worried he was about not being good enough and all the pressure on him to lead the team to a win, it's sort of like I'm seeing it all with fresh eyes, I guess. The way he pulls them all together, shouting instructions and getting everyone's heads back in the game after each play. The way his head swivels back and forth, watching the players move, waiting for the perfect opening for a pass.
And then all of a sudden, he's off, running hard downfield into a gap that only seems to open up in time for him to get there. Time seems to slow down then, and right before I think he's going to sprint all the way to the end zone, things begin to shift. One of the opposition's defenders wrong-foots one of our guys, and makes a break towards Noah. I don't think he even sees it coming.
Noah gets tackled, hard. He doesn't get back up immediately and I glance across at June, taking in the worried expression on her face that I'm pretty sure mirrors mine. The medic rushes across the field to where Noah's lying on his side, facing away from us, and kneels beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder. I blow out the breath I'd been holding when I see the hand get shoved away, and Noah rolls onto his back. I can see the medic asking him questions as Noah starts to sit up, tearing his helmet off in frustration.
I don't have to be a lip reader to know that he's yelling that he's fine. Noah gestures to his side, and the medic points towards the bench. Even from here I can see how little Noah cares for the idea of leaving the field. After a quick shake of his head, the medic stands, offering Noah a hand up, which, surprisingly, he accepts, along with his helmet that one of the other players holds out tentatively.
The guys barely get back in their line before the hooter blares, indicating the end of the quarter, and I watch Noah carefully as the teams make their way to the sidelines. He's moving stiffly, not swinging his long arms freely like he normally would. Lee bumps his shoulder against mine, making me look up at him.
"How bad do you think it is?" I whisper under my breath.
Lee frowns and shrugs. "Bad enough that they wanted him to come off, but not so bad that they made him."
"Yeah," I agree, biting my lip. "I guess that's something."
Lee squeezes my hand where it's half curled into fist on my leg, a wry smile spreading across his face. "He's going to be fine, Shelly. It's Noah. He's annoyingly hard to break."
"Yeah," I half laugh, half snort. "That's true."
But seeing him sitting on the bench, shoulders hunched, holding an ice pack against his ribs, I can't help but worry.
Noah goes back on for the final quarter, after a short, tense discussion with the coach. From what I could hear from our seats a few rows back from the bench, the coach wanted to put the reserve quarterback on the field and Noah pushed back, saying that the score line was too close. Coach agreed to leave him on, as long as he showed no signs of hurting or slowing down out there. If he did, he was coming off, end of story. Noah's jaw bunched and he gave a single, terse nod of his head, before jamming his helmet back on and running out to join the rest of the team.
I don't know what it's costing him to be out there, pretending, but even I wouldn't be able to tell he'd been injured during the last period if I hadn't watched it happen with my own two eyes. He's playing like a demon, and it's paying off, with Country Day scoring twice in rapid succession. I'm so focused on Noah, checking him for any sign he might be hurting, that before I know it, the clock runs out and the final siren blares.
"They did it!" Matthew yells, standing up and cheering, along with the rest of the crowd.
"Oh, my God!" I yell at Lee, grabbing a hold of his arms and jumping up and down. "They won!"
"Why are you so surprised, Shelly?" Lee laughs. "It's Noah. Of course he won."
Lee's right, of course. I should never have doubted it, doubted him. But Noah doubting himself made me stop and wonder, and a little seed of apprehension had grown inside me ever since. Really, though, who was I kidding? It's Noah, for Christ's sake. If anyone could push through all the pressure and get the win, it was my guy.
Speaking of my guy, I have to laugh as I watch him being carried around the field by the team in a victory lap. I also can't help rolling my eyes when he tires of it quickly and demands to be put down so he can come over to us. But instead of vaulting over the barrier like he's done before, he gestures for me to come down to the railing, the first indication he's made since he went back on that he's not as whole as he's pretending to be.
I lean over the rail and he reaches for my face before kissing me soundly. Blushing, I feel like every eye in the stadium is watching us right now, but Noah doesn't seem to register it, or if does, he doesn't seem to care.
"Congratulations," I grin at him when he lets me go. "You were amazing out there. Incredible."
"Thanks, Shelly." He grimaces then.
"Are you okay?" I ask, concern overtaking the pride I felt a moment ago.
"I'll be fine," he says stiffly. "Will you wait for me, though? I might be a while, by the time they check me out and everything."
"Of course. I'll be there when you get out."
His gaze is soft, the ghost of a smile flitting across his face. "Thank you."
Noah
My ribs are killing me, but I put a brave face on it for Elle, and my parents, as they replace her at the railing to congratulate me on the win. They're ecstatic for me, and I'm pretty damn happy for myself, if I'm being honest about it. The game was too close for my liking, there were a lot of big hits and I'm not the only one who'll be sorer still come morning. But in the end, we got the W, and that's all that matters.
Lee narrows his eyes at me as Mom and Dad turn to leave, offering me his fist, and I bump it with my own, careful to use my right hand so as to not stretch my left side.
"You good?" he asks.
"I'll be fine," I reply drily, before an idea makes me smirk. "Nothing a week or so in bed won't fix."
Lee catches my drift and wrinkles his nose in distaste. "Eww. I don't want to think about that." His face smooths. "Go get yourself checked out. I'll wait with Elle."
"Thanks, bro."
Turning, I see the medic and my coach giving me the eye and I sigh, resigning myself to being prodded and poked for the next half hour. This is definitely gonna get worse before it gets better, of that I'm sure.
"Alright, alright, I'm coming," I tell them, heading their way and up the tunnel into the locker room.
Inside, the team is going nuts, celebrating, but Coach pushes a path through the craziness for me, straight into the first aid room. Now that my heart rate is slowing, and the adrenaline of the game and the win is starting to fade, the pain is ramping up even more. That's what makes me accept the help to remove my jersey and pads when it's offered. I'm not actually sure I could manage it on my own.
"Alright," the medic says, all business. "Let's see what we're dealing with."
As I feared, he starts pressing his fingers across my ribs, making me wince and attempt to move away, but the sudden movement hurts more, so I clench my jaw and force myself to stay still, breathing out harshly through my nose.
