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Authors: Farrah Rochon
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caught her eye. “What’s going on over there?” She moved toward a tunnel that was an offshoot to the one underneath the stadium.
Cedric turned. “Probably the guys still resodding the turf.”
“I want to see it,” Payton said on an awe-filled breath. Not waiting for Cedric, she drifted through the arched hallway that led to the field, stopping just at the edge of the neatly trimmed deep green grass. She debated whether she should slip off her shoes before stepping onto it.
She went for it. Leaving her shoes behind, Payton stepped onto an actual NFL football field for the very first time. She turned in a slow circle and marveled at the sheer size of the place. On any given Sunday, seventy thousand people filled these seats. That was ten times the number of people in her small hometown.
She closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath, soaking in the moment. The freshly cut grass was cool beneath her feet. It tickled her through her sheer stockings.
She pulled in another deep breath and allowed the smell to bring her back to the sideline at Manchac High School. If she concentrated, she could hear her father’s deep voice booming from the sidelines. Coach Moe, as he was known throughout Manchac, could instill fear in his players with just a look. When he barked an order in that commanding voice, everyone jumped to attention.
Payton’s fists clenched at her sides as she tried desperately to hold on to the memory. She was so afraid that one day she would wake up and not be able to recall her daddy’s voice.
She wouldn’t allow that to happen. She couldn’t. Her memories were all she had left. And her love of football. It was a special bond they’d shared that Payton would always treasure. Finally, finally, her hard work had landed her exactly where she needed to be. Close to the game they both loved.
Coach Moe would be proud.
Cedric hovered at the edge of the field, leaning against the wall of the tunnel he’d run through dozens of times over the past four years. As he watched Payton stand there in silent worship, he tried to recall a single time he’d felt the sheer joy he saw on her face. She was relishing this. He could feel it radiating from her like warmth from the sun.
Cedric knew he was lucky. Millions of young boys dreamed of playing in the NFL and only a fraction ever got the chance to experience that reality. He’d never taken this gift for granted, but not once had he approached the football field with such reverence. At that moment, he knew if Payton Mosely had been born male, she would have been playing in the NFL. That was the kind of love for the game he saw on her face.
What was it about this woman and football? Where had this passion—this obsession—come from? Cedric was torn between flooding her with the dozen questions swirling in his mind or just watching her as she enjoyed something as simple as standing on a football field.
She turned in a slow circle, her face pointed up as she took in the tens of thousands of empty seats. She stopped when she saw him and smiled.
“This is so cool,” she mouthed.
Cedric pushed away from the wall and walked onto the field. He looked around the stadium, trying to see it for the first time through the eyes of someone who would never get to play the game, but who, without a doubt, loved it as much as he did.
“It is awesome, isn’t it?” he agreed.
“What’s it like to play here?” Her eyes were luminous with the same excitement that came through her voice. “I can only imagine how loud the crowd is to you guys on the field. To have all those fans cheering and screaming. It must be amazing!”
Cedric stuck his hands in his pockets to stop himself from touching her. He was once again struck by how beautiful she was. Even more startling was the contradiction she presented. Gorgeous, petite, feminine women usually didn’t live and breathe football. Cedric honestly could not think of anything sexier.
“The best ever was my
Cedric turned. “Probably the guys still resodding the turf.”
“I want to see it,” Payton said on an awe-filled breath. Not waiting for Cedric, she drifted through the arched hallway that led to the field, stopping just at the edge of the neatly trimmed deep green grass. She debated whether she should slip off her shoes before stepping onto it.
She went for it. Leaving her shoes behind, Payton stepped onto an actual NFL football field for the very first time. She turned in a slow circle and marveled at the sheer size of the place. On any given Sunday, seventy thousand people filled these seats. That was ten times the number of people in her small hometown.
She closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath, soaking in the moment. The freshly cut grass was cool beneath her feet. It tickled her through her sheer stockings.
She pulled in another deep breath and allowed the smell to bring her back to the sideline at Manchac High School. If she concentrated, she could hear her father’s deep voice booming from the sidelines. Coach Moe, as he was known throughout Manchac, could instill fear in his players with just a look. When he barked an order in that commanding voice, everyone jumped to attention.
Payton’s fists clenched at her sides as she tried desperately to hold on to the memory. She was so afraid that one day she would wake up and not be able to recall her daddy’s voice.
She wouldn’t allow that to happen. She couldn’t. Her memories were all she had left. And her love of football. It was a special bond they’d shared that Payton would always treasure. Finally, finally, her hard work had landed her exactly where she needed to be. Close to the game they both loved.
Coach Moe would be proud.
Cedric hovered at the edge of the field, leaning against the wall of the tunnel he’d run through dozens of times over the past four years. As he watched Payton stand there in silent worship, he tried to recall a single time he’d felt the sheer joy he saw on her face. She was relishing this. He could feel it radiating from her like warmth from the sun.
Cedric knew he was lucky. Millions of young boys dreamed of playing in the NFL and only a fraction ever got the chance to experience that reality. He’d never taken this gift for granted, but not once had he approached the football field with such reverence. At that moment, he knew if Payton Mosely had been born male, she would have been playing in the NFL. That was the kind of love for the game he saw on her face.
What was it about this woman and football? Where had this passion—this obsession—come from? Cedric was torn between flooding her with the dozen questions swirling in his mind or just watching her as she enjoyed something as simple as standing on a football field.
She turned in a slow circle, her face pointed up as she took in the tens of thousands of empty seats. She stopped when she saw him and smiled.
“This is so cool,” she mouthed.
Cedric pushed away from the wall and walked onto the field. He looked around the stadium, trying to see it for the first time through the eyes of someone who would never get to play the game, but who, without a doubt, loved it as much as he did.
“It is awesome, isn’t it?” he agreed.
“What’s it like to play here?” Her eyes were luminous with the same excitement that came through her voice. “I can only imagine how loud the crowd is to you guys on the field. To have all those fans cheering and screaming. It must be amazing!”
Cedric stuck his hands in his pockets to stop himself from touching her. He was once again struck by how beautiful she was. Even more startling was the contradiction she presented. Gorgeous, petite, feminine women usually didn’t live and breathe football. Cedric honestly could not think of anything sexier.
“The best ever was my
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