Overtime

24

Miles fakes a pass to the running back, heading straight for the hole the offense is holding open for him. He runs straight through, down the thirty-yard-line, to the twenty, ten, and easily heads into the end zone with the Dolphins' defense on his tail with twenty seconds left on the clock in the fourth quarter.

I cheer as I watch the game through my lens. He points straight at my camera, letting me capture the moment. I peek at the photo as he returns to the sidelines to allow the special teams to take the field. The kicker takes his time to set up before his kick. This would be the game-winning point to send the Titans to the Super Bowl.

Miles had dominated this season against the NFL. His status surpassed Jalen Hurts and Patrick Mahomes, throwing over four-thousand-five-hundred passing yards. He broke many records, and I have watched almost every yard he has thrown. Miles claims his luck is because of me, but I think he wants to impress me every chance he gets. Consider me impressed.

It was one of the coldest days in January we've had, snowflakes drizzling down into the stadium, not sticking no matter how many times I asked. I was freezing. I wish I had worn an extra layer of pants. The only skin you could see was my face, and the wind chill was taking full advantage. I was ready for this game to be over so I could head back into the warm, heated offices.

The holder catches the ball from the long snapper as the kicker sends the ball into the air towards the field goal. The ball soars through the goal as the stadium cheers as the Tennessee Titans take the lead. The boys on the sideline jump up and down, celebrating the point.

Though the chance is slim, I've seen what teams can do in twenty seconds. The thought of the Dolphins being able to score on a punt return makes me sick to my stomach. Miles and his team have worked so hard this year. They deserve everything they've gotten. They've only lost three games, making this season one for the record books.

The kicker sends the ball down the field, heading toward the Titans' end zone. The return specialist waits for the ball to fall into his hands before he takes off, charging down the field and trying to make it to the end zone. I bite my lip as my finger lays on the camera trigger, snapping every possible moment, hopefully for good. I want to squeeze my eyes shut as he reaches the forty before the gunner reaches him, ready to tackle.

The specialist slides past the gunner on the edge of the field, careful of his steps as the gunner falls a few feet short of him. I groan internally as he gets by, reading for the next player. The clock screeches, alarming that the twenty seconds were over, and if this guy made it, the Titans would lose. He makes it to the fifty, and I almost think he's going to squeeze by before a blocker comes out of nowhere, tackling him to the ground in one move. It looked like a hard hit. The stadium erupts into cheers, celebrating the victory. The blocker gets off the specialist, running for his team as the specialist lies there in defeat. It was a great try. His chances of making it were almost none; the fact he got that far was impressive.

I stay on the sidelines and celebrate the victory through the lens, wishing I could run and hug my boyfriend, though the contract I had to sign says otherwise. I'll have to celebrate through text until I'm able to take my lanyard and vest off. We were allowed to make small talk, a conversation of thirty seconds or less, which is why I grin as I see Miles walking my way. The Titans owned us. "Congrats, baby!" I cheer.

He walks up, his smile fading as he gets close, "I want to kiss you so bad." He was sweatier than I've ever seen him. He ran a hand through his soaked blonde hair, which had turned brown from playing hard. I wanted to do nothing but help him take his uniform off and never let him put clothes on again.

"How long do you think you'll be?" I didn't have much of a choice but to wait on him since he was my ride, though I could probably get a ride with Amber or walk back to my apartment. But my favorite thing to do is watch him walk out of the locker room doors as his eyes search for mine.