Firebug: Chapter 14 - The Game

Friday night had arrived way ahead of schedule for Roman. He'd been preparing for it for so long, he'd let it sneak up and blindside him with no warning whatsoever. To be fair, it wasn't the game itself he was worried about. The Hill Academy Hurricanes had faced off against Briarwood's Gladiators many times before now, and had won more often than lost.

This wasn't just any game, though: this was the game. The last Homecoming Game Roman would play in his high school career. Coach Guff had mentioned weeks ago that there would be college scouts in the stands too, all with their eyes on Roman. If he had any shot of going to a Division 1 university, tonight was the night to take it. The pressure was on big time, and it was all Roman could do to keep from cracking.

But - at the very least - there was one bright spot shining on him.

The moment he stepped out onto that field, Roman only saw one face smiling back at him from the bleachers. That one, shy but proud smile drowned out the deafening roar of his adoring fans by a landslide, lifting the immense weight off Roman's shoulders in a snap. Given how tense things were within the Quill household, he wasn't sure Theo would be able to come to the game at all. Theo's knowledge of football was extremely limited too, and he admitted that he didn't do well with crowds, furthering Roman's doubts that he would show. Seeing his boyfriend there now, his golden curls glowing like a beacon under the field's floodlights, was more wonderful and comforting than Roman could ever express in words.

Roman had a boyfriend now. That idea would still take some getting used to, but he was perfectly happy with it.

When Theo gave a nervous little wave, his hand covered completely by the oversized sleeve of the letterman jacket he had on, Roman raised his hand to wave back instinctively. It barely cleared his hip when Luna came out of nowhere, shaking her pom-poms with an obnoxious squeal. Not a second later, her arms were around his neck, dragging him into a deep, uncomfortably long kiss.

For years now, Roman had gotten used to her kiss attacks. He'd been able to convince himself that he liked them, especially when he least expected to get one. After kissing Theo, though, he realized just how much he'd been fooling himself. Luna's kisses were fine, but the spark was nonexistent. In fact, the longer her lips were pressed against his now, the more nauseous Roman felt. Almost like he were kissing one of his sisters. No matter what, though, Roman couldn't let anyone know how much the kiss bothered him. Not when he had a game to win.

The first and second quarters were probably the best the Hurricanes had ever played. Every pass Roman threw was right on the money, and Jake left fire trails on the turf he ran so fast. Even the defensive linemen had more focus than usual it seemed, not giving half a yard to the Gladiators when they were running the ball. By halftime, the Hurricanes were up twenty-one to two, with no signs of slowing down.

On his way to rest and regroup with the team before the second half, Roman was kiss-attacked again right in the locker room's doorway. This time, though, it felt like fireworks were going off inside his skull. Theo broke the kiss before Roman was ready for it to end, throwing his arms around the taller teen's neck with a breathless giggle afterwards.

"You've been absolutely bloomin' brilliant tonight!" The Brit said, his blue-green eyes sparkling with excitement and delight, "I'm so proud of you, Darling! Those Gladiators don't stand a chance!"

"Thanks, Bello," Roman grinned, looking nervously into the locker room before pecking Theo on the lips again, "We haven't won yet, though... and you're not supposed to be here. If the coach catches us, we'll both be in hot water. Go back to the stands, okay? They'll be plenty of opportunities to celebrate later, if we manage to win this thing."

"Right, sorry," Theo ran his fingers through Roman's sweaty waves sheepishly, "Watching you play has got me proper buzzing! Best be off now; don't want you getting in a sticky wicket because of me."

He couldn't resist kissing Roman one more time before leaving, not that Roman minded it one bit. While their lips were locked, though, Roman was positive he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked up automatically as soon as the tender kiss ended, expecting to see someone watching them from the far end of the hall. Bizarrely, there was nobody there at all.

It didn't take much effort for Roman to convince himself he'd imagined the whole thing. By the start of the third quarter, he'd put the whole interaction out of his head, laser-focused on the game again. The moment he put cleats to turf, however, the entire energy on the field had changed drastically. More than half his team had their phones out, which they were supposed to have left in the locker room. Whispers flew like locusts, buzzing from player to player faster than Roman could track it. Before he even had the chance to approach his teammates and see what was causing such a commotion, they all stowed their phones without hesitation. It was super weird, but not half as weird as the looks they all gave him afterwards.

He tried not to let it ruffle him, focusing all his energy on the game. After the first snap, Roman didn't have time to think about anything. Without warning, his entire offensive line broke apart for no reason whatsoever, allowing the Gladiators to plow over him like a stampede. Once he was back on his feet, Roman wrote it off as a one-time fluke. When it happened again - not once, not twice, but five times in a row - he couldn't ignore the obvious anymore.

They were letting the Gladiators sack him on purpose. But why?

The third quarter was a complete disaster. In twelve short minutes, the Hurricanes had gone from a staggering nineteen point lead to trailing by twenty-one. Coach Guff was fit to be tied, seconds away from chewing his clipboard to sawdust at the start of the fourth quarter.

"What the Sam Hill is wrong with you boys?!" he snarled, throwing his cap on the ground. "Did you all pop stupid pills during half-time?! Or did you just leave your brains in the gall-darn locker room?!"

"Sorry, Coach," Carlos - the center offensive lineman - muttered, taking off his helmet with a sharp sniff, "Guess I'm just not feelin' too good. Would it be okay if I sat out the last quarter?"

The left and right guards, Hank and Joey, quickly followed in Carlos' footsteps, claiming to suddenly be sick. Even though they all seemed to be perfectly fine in the first half of the game. Coach Guff had no choice but to bench them all, and to substitute their positions with the second-stringers. All of whom were Freshmen, with barely any field time under their belts.

It didn't look good for the Hurricanes: losing forty-two to twenty-one, with a handful of greenhorns on the field at the top of the fourth quarter. Roman must've taken one too many hits, because his shoulder pads were suffocatingly tight all of a sudden. The talent scouts occupying the center front bleachers all narrowed their eyes at him, shaking their heads and scribbling notes with deep, disappointed scowls.

Roman shook it off as best he could, trying to keep his head in the game. All wasn't lost yet; there was still time to turn this game around. When the Freshman center - Kyle - snapped the ball, Roman immediately backed up and scanned the field for Jake. Before he could let his desperate haymaker fly, the three Freshmen guarding him were flattened like pancakes by the Gladiator's defensive line. And, for the sixth time that night, Roman hit the dirt. Very, very hard.

For an alarmingly long time, Roman couldn't take a breath, feeling as if a baby elephant just headbutted him right in the breadbasket. Black and green spots danced on either side of his vision, making him realize that his helmet had flown off on impact. When he looked up into the stands from the flat of his back, everyone was on their feet, their mouths open wide with screams of encouragement begging him to get up. The problem was, Roman couldn't hear any of them. All he could hear were his own panicked, gasping breaths, echoing in his ears.

The longer he stared at those faces, the less defined they seemed to get. In a matter of seconds, every one was exactly the same: featureless... blank... empty. As if the stands were filled with hundreds of mannequins instead of people. Every face, that is, except one... and it was making its way toward him like a heat-seeking missile.

"Roman?! Roman, can you hear me?!"

That face. That wonderful, freckly face was suddenly floating directly over his. A hand, shockingly hot, cradled his cheek, but the touch was gentle. Reassuring. Like magic, the elephant on Roman's chest disappeared. The deafening voices reached his ears at last, and - surprisingly - they were chanting his name.

In a blink, Coach Guff was kneeling over Roman, shoving Theo out of the way. "You still with us, Durant?!" the heavyset, middle-aged man grumped, slapping Roman's cheek a few times to revive him. "C'mon, Kid, speak to me! Are you okay?!"

"Y... Yup," Roman wheezed, nodding dazedly, "All good, Coach."

Coach Guff's shoulders relaxed, offering Roman a hand up with a sigh. When Roman bent down to pick up his helmet, though, the coach grabbed the back of his jersey and yanked him away from it.

"Oh no, you don't! Szymanski, get your tail offa that bench! You're up!"

"Coach, I'm fine," Roman insisted, "I can play! Please-"

"Can it, Durant," Coach growled, "you've done enough! No scholarship is worth killing yourself over. Now put a sock in it and plant your keister on the bench, unless you wanna be out for the season!"

In no position to argue, Roman just gave up and did as he was told. The moment his butt hit the bench, Carlos, Hank, and Joey all made miraculous recoveries, reclaiming their positions on the field. To his credit, Bobby Szymanski did well as replacement quarterback. Although just a Sophomore, he had the reflexes of a cheetah and a cannon for an arm. Between Bobby and the offensive line doing its job, the Hurricanes did the impossible. Slowly but surely, the tides of the game changed in their favor... and it wasn't Roman's name the crowd was chanting anymore.

The last few seconds of the game were nail-bitingly close. Thanks to Bobby's wild, Hail Mary pass and Jake's lightning-fast feet, they clinched it: Hurricanes, forty-three; Gladiators, forty-two. The game was won.

So why did Roman feel like such a loser?