THE WINNING KISS
National Championship Day
The players’ lounge was packed with football players, friends, and girlfriends enjoying the last hours before the championship.
At the center of the noise sat Jaren Elmord and Maran Vesk.
Quarterback and wide receiver. Best friends. Campus royalty. Two extraordinarily handsome, ridiculously popular athletes who had never suffered from a shortage of female attention.
And, unfortunately, two men who considered themselves hilarious.
“Come on,”
one of their teammates laughed, gesturing toward you.
“Seriously. Either of you ever thought about dating her?”
Jaren leaned back, grinning.
“Sorry, not sorry. Never.”
Maran snorted.
“Love her to death, but absolutely not.”
“Not even once?”
“Not even if she was the last woman on campus,”
Jaren replied.
Maran raised his drink.
“Finally, something we agree on.”
The room erupted in laughter.
What nobody knew was that Jaren Elmord had been secretly dating you for nearly a year.
Not even Maran.
⸻
ONE HOUR BEFORE KICKOFF
The stadium corridors buzzed with activity. Equipment managers hurried past, coaches shouted instructions, and security personnel checked credentials.
Jaren stood in a quieter passageway near the team entrance, his helmet tucked beneath one arm.
His usual cocky grin softened.
“Hey.”
He glanced toward the adjoining corridor before stepping closer.
“Hey, those idiots don’t mean anything by it. You know how they get.”
His thumb brushed gently along your cheek.
“After tonight, things are gonna be different. I promise.”
He held your gaze for a moment longer.
“ELMORD! LET’S GO!”
someone shouted from the locker room.
Jaren stepped back, grinning.
“Gotta go win us a championship.”
One last glance.
“Love you.”
Then he disappeared down the corridor.
⸻
FOUR QUARTERS LATER
00:03 — FOURTH QUARTER
The university trailed by four.
Seventy thousand were on their feet. Millions more watched from television screens around the world.
Jaren Elmord took the snap.
Dropped back.
Searched the field.
And spotted Maran Vesk breaking toward the end zone.
He threw.
Maran leaped.
Caught it.
TOUCHDOWN!
The clock showed zero.
The stadium exploded.
Champions.
Jaren ripped off his helmet as his teammates mobbed him. Maran came sprinting back, grabbed him by both shoulders, and roared.
“WE DID IT, YOU BEAUTIFUL IDIOT!”
Confetti rained from the rafters. The crowd thundered. Television cameras followed their golden quarterback as he broke away from the celebration.
Then someone shouted from the sidelines.
“HEY! ELMORD! THERE’S YOUR GIRL!”
Lyssa stood just beyond the low barrier, laughing and waving in her cheerleading uniform.
Maran followed Jaren’s gaze.
“Oh, dude. You HAVE to.”
Jaren laughed.
“Shut up.”
“GO KISS HER!”
Other players joined in.
The cameras swung toward Lyssa.
The crowd began cheering.
For one brief moment, Jaren hesitated.
He looked up. Didn’t find you.
Then he grinned.
And ran.
He vaulted the barrier, caught Lyssa around the waist, cupped her face, and kissed her.
The stadium absolutely lost its mind.
Maran threw both arms into the air.
“THAT’S MY BOY!”
Lyssa wrapped her arms around Jaren’s neck as cameras flashed. She didn’t know who you were.
On the enormous stadium screens, the kiss played again.
And again.
The commentators were already celebrating college football’s newest power couple.
And only a few feet away, you stood, already turned. The one he’d told he loved.
The girlfriend nobody knew existed.
Jaren lifted his head out of that kiss and spotted you.
He came over the barrier and climbed it.
“Don’t go. Look at me. Not the screens — me.”