"Wow, we're... really fucking close." Harper's eyes widened at how we sat less than ten feet from the player's benches while they warmed up on the field before the game against the red and white uniformed University of Montana Grizzlies. "I can reach out and grab a dick from here."

"Please don't," I groaned quietly.

"Most of them probably have herpes," Monique warned her from a few seats over. "Happy to point out which ones don't though."

"I've had more than enough fill of football players." Harper threw me a side glance. "Literally."

"So I've heard," Monique muttered quietly but loud enough Harper's head snapped in her direction. "And by Ellie's face, she got some last night."

What's wrong with my face?

At this point, a quick glance at Grace's amused smile and changing my seat so that I now sat under the stadium sounded like a pretty good idea. Right before I answered either of them, an obnoxiously loud air horn sounded behind us. The sound itself was bad enough but vibrations also rolled over my skin and all three of us, along with everyone who sat within a twenty-seat radius, jumped in our seats.

EEEHHHH!!!

"What the fuck?" Harper first recovered after the obnoxiously brassy sound cut off, while I fingered my ears with the pads of my index fingers until the sharp after rings dissipated.

A quick look behind us showed a short, plump woman with dark skin, a slightly askew short-haired wig, and the brightest white-teethed smile framed by her full lips walked down the bleacher rows towards our seats. Her dark brown eyes gazed around the stadium while one of her hands clutched the railing tightly. The other grasped an airhorn while the largest black leather purse I'd ever seen swung from her elbow crook with each step.

"Momma Williams!" Monique chided her hopeful mother-in-law. "You can't just be firing that off for no reason."

"Lettin' my baby know I'm here," she replied and fired the horn off again.

"This is like a fucking circus," Harper muttered more to herself, then shifted her eyes sideways to her Dad, who sat in front of us but was in a deep conversation with Grace on my other side. With the way he leaned backwards in his seat while she leaned forwards, they almost looked like -

EEEHHHH!!!

"Who Dat!" The airhorn culprit jumped up and pointed both her index fingers at number fifty-five on the field. In response, Darrius mirrored her big, toothy smile while he trotted over.

Such a Mama's boy.

"Momma Williams, please stop." Monique's eyes practically rolled out of her head. "And nobody outside Louisiana knows what Who Dat means."

"Calm your tits, Precious," Momma Williams shot back with a sharp finger point at Monique, then stood up and reached her arms out and over the railings to Darrius. Once he stepped up to the cement wall and leaned over, she planted a kiss on the outside of his helmet that left a lipstick mark. The moment, with his goofy smile, looked absolutely precious, so I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture.

At least, the moment was precious until Momma Wililams turned to Monique and added, "And speaking of tits, don't you be sending my baby any more of those nudey pictures, Lord have mercy."

"Nudes? Oh my," Grace murmured into my ear. "You don't do that, do you Ellie?"

"No," I replied quickly, although my cheeks burned from the picture of me just in Logan's jersey.

I should have him delete that.

After a murderous look from Monique at Darrius, he inhaled sharply and gripped the black metal railing tightly in both fists. "Momma, you can't be goin' through my phone like that. It's private."

Probably like this conversation should be.

"Wanted to make sure my recipes were safe," she grumbled and sat down.

"We'll talk later. Hand over the noise maker, Momma." Darrius held up one large, black-gloved hand. After a few more grumbles, Momma Williams thankfully forfeited her airhorn.

How did she get it in here?

My eyes dropped down to her purse, whose cavernous size was enough of an answer for me.

"I've gotta ask..." Harper's lips pursed for a moment while her eyes shifted back and forth between Momma Williams and Darrius' size difference. My ego appreciated how their height gap was a lot more than mine and Logan's.

"How did that -" Harper pointed at Darrius' large 6 ft 6 frame, then down to Momma William's lap. "- come out of there?"

"Oh gawd." Both my hands cupped my face and I pressed my fingertips gently into my closed eyes.

This is like my worst filterless nightmare and the game hasn't even started yet.

"Miss Ellie!" Momma Williams wrapped her arms warmly around me and I pulled my hands back when she squeezed my shoulders. "Homonym?"

"Hi Momma Williams," I greeted her and pressed a gentle kiss into her round cheek. Despite all the greasy meals she prepared, the woman had the softest and smoothest skin I'd ever felt. "What?"

"Manners, Miss Ellie," she tsked me, her sharp dark eyes fixed on mine. "Howsyamommaanem?"

A few days prior to today's game, Monique had given me a crash in Louisiana slang, although my brain definitely struggled with this one.

Disentangle Ellie... How's your Momma and them?

"How am I?" I asked with a slight head tilt. "Just great. Your boy is doing so well this season. How are you?"

"Bush whacked," she lamented with a soft groan and side-shuffled her feet past us towards her seat next to Monique. "I'm fixin' for a solid doh-doh but knowing Precious here, I'm gonna need to go make groceries."

"Did she just say she needs to take a shit!?" Harper leaned over and whisper-yelled in my opposite ear. I rolled my upper and lower lips under because that was my first reaction. "I love her."

My mind slowly went bath through the slang Monique had rehearsed more than once with me, but frankly I needed a few iterations before I realized Momma Williams said she was tired and needed a nap, but was hungry first. Harper was less excited once I translated that for her.

"Momma Williams." I squeezed her shoulder lightly, then pointed at Grace and Brody in the row ahead of us. "This is Logan's Mom Grace and his brother Brody."

After a completely blank stare, she asked, "Who's Logan?"

"The quarterback," Monique deadpanned and pointed at the number ten on the front of my jersey.

"What happened to that good-looking number thirteen?" Momma Williams peered down the field at Logan, who effortlessly tossed warm up throws to Wes and Seth. "He was as pretty as a pitcher."

"A what?" Harper's lips tugged slightly.

"Picture," I whispered to her.

"And not like one of yours, Precious." Momma Williams pointed an index finger at Monique.

"Priceless." Harper snorted softly and thankfully kept her whispered response to only my left ear, "When in doubt, don't send nudes."

"Emmitt got injured..." My voice faded off while my eyes roamed over the Huskies' sidelines. Within the herd of white jerseys, I found the back of Emmitt's dark-haired head, where he stood near the bench and wore all-black athletic gear. He must have felt the weight of my gaze because his brown eyes shifted over his shoulder and a smirk curled his mouth upwards.

"Him?" Harper's jaw dropped open. "He... fuck. He looks like -" she interrupted herself with a slow head shake, then clamped her mouth shut.

"Huh. Well, I ain't sitting behind this one." Momma Williams jerked a thumb up at Brody.

I'd gotten as many extra seats as I could've, but was one short within our row and had gotten one in the row ahead of us and a few seats down. After he'd joined us in the stands, Brody had volunteered and taken that lonely seat. He tugged a few strands of sympathy in my heart with the most bewildered look I'd ever seen as Momma Williams explained further, "Tall and skinny's gonna block my view."

My shoulders shook with my suppressed laughs because one of the things I loved about Momma Williams was how she was actually my height. I saw the field just fine over Brody's head but the view of the player's benches was partially blocked by the Huskies baseball cap he'd worn backwards.

Only in comparison to Darrius' size is Brody skinny.

"Momma Williams, we can shift seats if you'd like," a shorter girl with straight black hair cut blunt at her shoulders spoke up. Until now, I had no idea that she'd stood up on the row behind us but, by process of elimination, I assumed she was Darrius' cousin.

"Hi, I'm Ellie." I reached out one hand in her direction.

"Porsha." She slipped a soft hand into mine and her Southern accent practically melted my ears. "D's my cousin. He's mentioned you helping him eat, bless your heart Miss Ellie."

Ahh, these Southern manners.

"Thanks." I smiled at her kindness and shook her gentle hand. "Monique's done the heavy work, I just made the suggestions."

"Speaking of... You didn't bring anything with you, did you?" I leaned forward and looked at Momma Williams with a look that I hoped conveyed the suspicion I held inside. "Darrius is down ten pounds, don't you derail his progress."

"TSA caught her packing biscuits in there." Porsha pointed at the purse on Momma William's lap that up close looked large enough to conceal a small animal. "They pulled us out of the line and patted both of us down for that, so embarrassing."

"Can't help it. I run the best shrimp and crawdaddy restaurant in Shreveport." Momma Williams squared her shoulders and tilted up her chin. "Folk come from all over Louisiana for my fixin's. And my biscuits, ain't no one make my biscuits."

Monique's eyes widened at me from her seat on the other side of Momma Williams before she mouthed, 'Kill me.'

"Hush off, titty pictures." Momma William's eyes roamed over Monique before the firm line on her mouth softened. "But you do take care of my baby."

Thankfully, perhaps through divine Husky intervention, crowd noise interrupted whatever this conversation was. As highlights from the previous two road games flashed over the endzone TV, the roar of the home team's pride erupted around our messy conversations. Even just on replays, Logan made every toss, every play look simple and rehearsed, and the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd of an announced more than seventy-eight thousand in attendance roared at each replayed touchdown, then again when Logan's team picture flashed up on the screen.

It's good all his hard work is paying off.

"And Monique takes care of him very well," I chirped at Momma Williams during a quieter crowd moment. "Darrius is already playing a lot better. And saving all that money, you could come up here."

"Humm," was her only response but thankfully the teams cleared the field for the coin toss.

"I don't normally say this," Harper whispered in my ear. "But there's more action in the bleachers."

"No kidding," I murmured. Harper and I waited until Momma Williams and Porsha took their desired seats, then we shuffled with Grace and Mr. Reynolds until Harper and I took the two seats at the end of the row.

"Like old times, huh?" Her head cocked slightly and a breeze lifted a few strands of her long hair across her face. She brushed her slender fingers across her cheek and her eyes drifted in the direction of the back of Emmitt's head. "Just missing your dickhead brother on the field."

"Don't act like you weren't happy to see him," I teased her. Right when her lips parted, I continued, "And for the record, if you two were more serious I still wouldn't have a problem with it."

Harper's eyes, as light as the clear blue sky above us, studied mine with an unusually quiet level of scrutiny. She ran her tongue gently over her lower lip and once she spoke, her voice also sounded unusually soft. "Why?"

"Because you're the only one that can handle his bullshit," I murmured in response, then my eyes traveled over to Emmitt on the bench. "And, for another record, that one's brother-zoned."

"So if I took him for a test drive?" Her head tilted back with a laugh.

"Screw at your own risk, but be my guest." My eyes shifted to mid-field, where number ten stood between a few other jerseys for the coin toss, which UW won and elected that they received the ball first. "There's only one in my heart."

"Well now you just made it gross," she teased but the smile on her lips was genuine.

My heart thumped in my chest as the offensive team took the field. The Huskies wore their usual gold helmets with purple block-W's on the sides and purple stripes that flanked the white down in the middle, white jerseys with purple letters and numbers, and purple pants. My mouth might've dried slightly at number ten's tall, muscular form and my cheeks warmed at the mental image of how he'd leaned over me last night, his large hands clenched into my hips while his deep penetration drove me into near oblivion.

Put me down for definitely trying that position again.

"There he is! Don't embarrass me, Logan!!" Grace stood up and screeched so loudly that the unfortunate people within hearing radius jolted in their seats, then clamped their hands over their ears. My eyes shifted over to Mr. Reynolds, who just smiled and shook his head, then over to Brody, who just shook his head and pulled his cap tight down on his head.

Guess it doesn't bother Mr. Reynolds though, huh.

Logan stretched out the offensive line and, with the very first play, he intended that the Huskies' scoring machine started up just like they'd played against the University of Michigan. With a crisp, clean spiral, he threw the ball for a seventeen yard gain pass to Wes.

Grace stood up and hollered, "That's my Husky boy!"

I snorted at her words, but the crowd responded instantly with cheers and chants for more and Logan delivered play after play in a one-sided march down the field. The air sizzled with momentum and I practically tasted the anticipation that radiated from the entire stadium. At Montana's thirty-yard line, on a faked throw play, Logan's large frame parted through the red and white Grizzlies' jerseys at the line of scrimmage. With a quick spin off of Darrius' block, he ran for another twelve yards before the backfield player tackled him.

"Go, Husky boy!" Grace stood up, pointed two fingers at Logan, and hollered loudly. "More twists than a pretzel factory!"

At her words, I caught Brody's eye right as he palmed his forehead. Grace's particular word selection and our close proximity to the Huskies' sidelines definitely drew some turned heads and laughs from the bench. One of them, a familiar blonde with her hair in a ponytail and arms crossed, stood near the rest of the PT staff but her blue eyes locked on mine and she smiled.

Another built-up crowd roar drew my attention back to the field for the next play. With another smooth setup, Logan pitched the ball forward to Reese, his tight end, who got a solid block from Darrius and tacked on another thirteen yards for the offensive that, at the moment, looked unstoppable.

"Whhoooooo Dat!" Momma Williams cheered loudly, right before -

EEEHHHH!!!

None of us should have been surprised, but were definitely shook up a little when Momma Williams unearthed another airhorn from her luggage-sized purse. At this point, I completely understood when Brody had shifted an extra seat further away while Harper eyed the other side of the stadium with consideration.

She might have the right idea.

"Fuck me sideways already," Harper cursed into my other ear, then plugged hers when Momma Williams fired off her second air horn again. "It's only the first five minutes and I'm second-hand embarrassed... for once."

"Guess they're excited," I replied with a shake of my head because, at this point, that was all I had.