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.
The camera cuts to Miles as he sits alone on the bench, his head in his hands, leaning over, trying to hide. He, of course, isn't wearing a jacket and will most likely end up with a cold. Why is that the first thing I notice? "There they go, invading his privacy again," Willow mutters.
The girls are silent as the Titans' defense takes the field. There probably wouldn't be a word uttered till it was over. If the Titans don't win tonight, this season is still record-breaking for the team. They've only ever been to the Super Bowl once and lost. Hopefully, that changes tonight.
The waiter brings another tray of champagne, and I grab two this time, downing one in one large sip. I felt enormous stress, and I'm sure the other girls felt the same way.
The Titans manage to hold off the 49ers from moving across the field, and the game goes into overtime. The crowd was going wild with excitement as the clock hit zero. I don't understand how the entire stadium is still packed. Snow was pelting every person harshly, leaving the turf white as it stuck to the ground.
God bless Miles and his money.
I wish I were down there to give him a hug of encouragement. Not that it would do anything, but it may help him relax. Whatever, we can relax all we want after tonight.
The special teams take the field as the 49ers send a kickoff to our returners. They did a shitty kick, the ball only staying in the air for a second in homes they could reach the ball we did. The ball lands in our team, gunning it down the field to the fifty before being tackled.
Cheers erupt from all around, and I swear I feel the stadium shake. Maybe it's the alcohol I've injected into my body this afternoon. Lord, help me if people are taking photos of us here. We are all off our ass, and our men aren't here to stop us.
They snap the ball to Miles, and I can barely tell who he passed it to. My vision was getting blurry. I need to stop the drinks. That's when I realized my man is the one who still has the ball. He slices through the middle as his guards hold the 49ers the best they can. A huge linebacker comes for him, snacking him to the ground. The crowd and I gasped at the hit. Flags are thrown on the field as Miles is on all fours and tries to catch his breath.
The trainers run out to him as he sits, takes his helmet off, and breathes. "Julia, he's fine," Jada slurs as she missteps, falling into the chairs. We all let out a giggle as Willow helped her stand upright.
The referees take the middle of the field as one calls out, "Unsportsmanlike Conduct on number seventy-five. Five-yard penalty and automatic first down." Half the crowd cheers as the other half boos.
Miles assures the medical staff he's fine as he takes his position on the field. He's going to have a massive bruise on his side later. We can play doctor in the hotel room later. Yeah- I need to stop drinking. The hit he took sobered me up a little, at least.
The Titans are only twenty-five yards out to the end zone. Miles snaps the ball again, handing it off to the running back, as he pretends to have it still, faking left while the running back goes right. It trips the defense up as they run for Miles while the ball goes the other way. They finally notice, tackling him at the five-yard line—almost a touchdown.
I want to turn away and not look at the next play. Miles snaps the ball, backing up as he looks for an opening as multiple receivers head into the end zone. He throws it to Caleb, who miscalculates the throw, and it ends out of bounds and incomplete.
They line up again, Miles making the same play again, and this time, Caleb catches the ball for a touchdown. Now, the stadium shakes with excitement, and I'm pretty sure we just caused an earthquake. Amber hugs me as we celebrate taking the lead once again.
The special teams take the field as they kick the field goal in for another point.
"Bestie goals," I tell Amber, smiling huge. My best friend and I are also dating best friends.
The game still isn't over, as it's the 49ers' chance to try and score. Our defense can hold them off, especially if it's a game-winning tackle.
"Is it a bad time to say I need to pee?" I whine as my bladder takes control of my body.
"Hurry!" They yell, and I run off to the ladies' room in hopes I won't miss anything. I hope the 49ers don't get down that field while I'm gone.
Maybe our boys will be crowned winners if I take long enough. I want to see my boyfriend. I'm tired of talking to the girls. That's why I'm always taking photos on the field. It requires zero communication.
When I return from the bathroom, the 49ers are on a third-down on the twenty-yard line, and I wonder how long I was in there. It couldn't have been that long.
Amber grabs my hand as the 49ers line up to finish their last play, hopefully. "I don't want to look," I say, unable to take my eyes off the field.
The quarterback fakes left with the ball and heads the other way. One of our linebackers pushes, trying to get through and find a way to him before he can throw the ball to anyone else. He makes a clean tackle to his side, and I swear, it's almost like the president was here. The time almost seems to stop as the stadium is louder than before, and I'm glad I'm inside.
I grab Amber's hand, and we run to the elevator to take us down to the field, not bothering to wait for anyone else for the official end of the game.
The elevator takes longer than expected, so I walk off and head down the stairwell. I am dizzier than ever, and I almost think I'm going to puke. Why did I drink so much?
I reach the entry for the field, showing the security guard my pass as I slip onto the field, heading towards my boyfriend's team on the sideline.
The game officially ends, and confetti and fireworks are shot into the air as I run towards my boyfriend, who hugs his teammates. "Miles," I try to yell over the noise and cheering. He doesn't hear me, so I approach him as the reporters head his way.
I grab his arm to stop him from moving. He almost shrugs it off before turning towards me. His face lights up when he sees me, pulling me towards him and embracing me in a hug. "You did it," I tell him, wrapping my arms around him.
He bends down to kiss me, and I feel like I'm in a movie. It feels like the most cliche movie scene as the confetti and snow fall from the sky. His kiss stops the world and everyone around us, and it's just us again.
I've never gotten to kiss him in his full uniform. Or on the field. It feels magical, and I know the world will see our kiss instantly. It's probably already circulating the internet, especially if those reporters see us.
When I spot them eagerly behind me, I sigh. He's got to talk to them eventually, and the world is waiting to hear him. I kiss his cheek before stepping away to let the reporters in. "I'll find you in a little, okay?" I nod, walking a few steps away, watching him speak to them.
"Miles Moore. You just won the Super Bowl. What now?" The reporter asks.
He watches me as he speaks, "Whatever my girl wants to do."