Overtime

29

This game was a nail-biter. Anything the Titans did, the 49ers also did. It was a back-and-forth game of no one scoring until the others did. Then, the other would score.

The two teams were tied in the fourth quarter's final minutes with three touchdowns each. Miles and his offense were getting nowhere with the 49ers defense. They blocked every throw, earning two quarterback sacks when they got through the guards. The defense was exactly where they needed to be every time Miles went to throw, not letting the ball get past.

I caught myself pulling my hair in frustration at one point. I was so damn stressed. I secretly couldn't wait for the game to be over. I couldn't imagine how Miles felt. They've panned to him on the bench when the defense takes the field, and well, he's definitely not happy.

The game was full of fourth downs and punts. It was a never-ending cycle. "I need a fucking blunt to finish this game," Riley mutters, saying what we were all thinking.

I giggle, drunk off the never-ending champagne that the waiter keeps bringing. I think he's trying to get me drunk. "I'm sure someone is standing outside the stadium we can buy from. This is New York, after all."

"Celebratory blunt afterward?" Amber suggests, and we all laugh. After a few minutes, it got less awkward. It started to feel like the old days. We haven't heard from Emma since she and Maddy found each other. They still sit in the booth, and their lips never stop moving.

Caitlyn sits in one of the chairs on her phone, "Can we talk about how sexy Justin Bieber looked on that halftime stage?"

"He definitely needs an Eras tour. I'd buy out the stadium," Riley laughs next to her."

I watch as the punt return is kicked, and the returner on the Titans catches the ball, running down the field as the gunner comes for him, inching closer every second. He pushes the returner out of bounds, stopping the clock with under two minutes left in the game.

I watch Miles take the field, and I close my eyes to pray he can throw it to the end zone for a touchdown.

My heart beats out of my chest as they get in position, and the ball is snapped into Miles's hand. I bite my lip as he hands it off to Caleb, who goes right, heading past the thirty-yard line to the forty, and is tackled at the forty-five, earning a first down. The suite shakes with cheers as that was one of the longest drives of the game tonight, which is ridiculous.

They retake positions as the clock winds down, and Miles makes quick work of throwing it to the tight end, who easily catches the throw, heading down to the twenty-yard line with another first down before he is tackled. "Come on, Miles. Just a little more," I say, on the edge of my seat as we enter enemy territory.

I wonder if his inability to see me is a reason for the plays not getting through. No. He knows I'm here watching. These are the best two teams in America. They're equally fighting to stop the other team from winning.

The time trickles down to a minute left of the game, and I'm anxious and need another drink. Where is the champagne boy when I need him? They line up once again, Miles looking for the opening with his wide receiver. He throws it as the receiver waits for the ball to land in his hands, but instead, the ball lands in the hands of a cornerback as he intercepts it, immediately running down the field. The crowd gasps in shock, and I pray there is a flag somehow. Come on.

They push him out of the sidelines, stopping the clock as Miles stands there stunned, hands on his hips. He slowly returns to the sidelines as the Titans coach calls a timeout. "Fucking hell," I mutter, still frazzled at the interception. A good fucking play made by the 49ers.

There are less than thirty seconds left, and if the Titans' defense can hold them off, they'll go into overtime. It's almost a given they'll go into overtime unless there's a miracle. It looked like the 49ers just called in their miracle.