Текст книги "Sacked"

Автор книги: Jen Frederick

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30 Ellie

I wait until we’re out of earshot of Coach Lowe’s office before spinning on Ace. “Do you think he’ll kick Masters off the team?”

“Maybe not. But he’d probably pull his support for Masters going pro after this season. I wouldn’t test Coach.” Ace walks off, presumably to continue icing his arm.

“What will you do?” Jack asks. “Text him?

I rear back. “No. I won’t break up with him via text. Is Coach Lowe bugging the phones? I'm calling him.” No way I would do it so cold heartedly.

“He'll talk you out of it,” Jack warns.

I wish.

When I get back to my apartment after classes, I check the time. Knox will be going to film class. I rub a hand over my eyes, wanting this to all go away.

He picks up on the first ring.

“Hey, baby, what's up? You excited for the softball game tonight? Undefeated Horny Toads!” He lets out a low whistle. Oh shit. I forgot. We’re playing last year’s intramural softball champs—the Gilded Lilies—the team with Champs in gold foil on their pullovers and matching hats. He continues, “I also picked up our costumes for the Halloween party. I’m warning you right now. I look damn good in pink. You won’t keep your hands off me.”

Knox and I planned to go to a Sigma Chi Halloween party as Power Rangers. Red for me; pink for him. He thought it ironic.

“We're breaking up,” I blurt out.

“No, I can hear you fine.”

“Not the phone line. Us. We can't see each other anymore.”

“What are you taking about?”

“I don't want to see you again. I’m sorry to say this, but when I learned you were a virgin, I wanted to be your first. Make my mark on you. I figured after I had you, I’d have my pick of any guy at Western.”

He laughs at first, but then sputters when I don’t join in.

“Are you fucking serious?” There’s finally a hint of anger in his voice.

“Yes.” I’m so glad we are not face to face.

“Did you hit your head or something? I'm coming over. You sound like you suffered a concussion.”

“No, don't come over. I-I—” I look around wildly for an excuse and seize on a random one. “I'm seeing someone else and he's here.”

“Since when?” he demands.

“He's on my softball team. The shortstop. Ryan Schneider.” Oh, Ryan, I am so sorry I’m throwing you under the bus.

Silence hangs between us.

“Put him on,” Knox growls.

“No.”

“Let me talk to him.”

“No. I'm sorry. We're done.” In a rush I hang up, afraid of what Knox will say or do. He calls back immediately and I put my phone on do not disturb. Then I block him because Jack is right. I’m weak when it comes to Knox. Very weak.

••• Wednesday

My good intentions evaporate when he shows up at the softball game. He looks gorgeous. Big, brawny and all mine. Except he’s not anymore, and if Coach Lowe gets word that he’s here with me, we’re both in trouble. Knox doesn’t even pretend he’s here to do anything but hassle me. He leans against the edge of the wall that serves as the home run marker.

“You have to leave,” I hiss without turning around. “We’ve broken up. You can’t be here.”

“Why, because your new boyfriend will see us together?” he asks, a hint of mockery in his voice.

“Who?”

“Schneider,” he reminds me impatiently. “The guy who’s taken my place between this morning when I ate you out and sometime after your last class of the day.”

I flush a dull red—both at his crude words and my obviously bad lie. I need to think of better excuses.

“Hey, Schneider,” he calls out.

The rangy shortstop raises his head and looks around. Knox whistles and Schneider trots over, completely abandoning his position. The power of Knox Masters.

“Hey, Masters,” Schneider greets him like a long lost brother. They do a complicated thing with their hands and a half hug. “What’s up? Seven-and-oh with only five games left. That’s pretty damn exciting.”

“We’ve got nothing on the Horny Toads.” Masters nods toward the field. “Although Ellie says that the Gilded Lilies are tough competitors.”

“Those girls know how to use the bat,” Schneider replies.

Then why aren’t you minding the field? I cry in my head. Outwardly, I try to signal Schneider in on the fact that I’ve used him as a beard. My wriggling eyebrows and furtive hand gestures are greeted with a puzzled look.

“Ellie tells me that you two are seeing each other now,” Masters says casually. He turns and spits about an inch from Schneider’s toes.

“What?” Schneider yelps. He jumps away from me. “Gosh, Ellie. I think you’re a good left fielder, but I thought you knew I played for the other team. Oh, look, the Lilies are up to bat.” He quickly scampers off.

“Schneider’s gay?” I gape.

Knox looks at me with a pointed stare. “Your gaydar needs work. Also your lying.”

My gaze drops to my sneakers. “We shouldn’t see each other anymore.”

His large hand cups the back of my neck. I don’t look up even at that, afraid of what I’ll see there. Of what I’ll do. “Are you worried about Ty coming? I told you he’ll love you.”

Oh, Knox.

“We still on for tomorrow?” The uncertainty in his voice kills me.

I nod because I know what I have to do.

He retreats to the stands and watches my Horny Toads get shellacked by the Gilded Lilies. They do know how to use their bats and their gloves.

“What was that all about?” Schneider mutters in the dugout as we’re gathering up our equipment.

“I want to break up with Knox and I used you as an excuse. Sorry.” I make an apologetic face.

“Use someone else next time,” Schneider hisses. He pats his really nicely gelled blond hair. “I’m breakable.”

How did I miss Schneider was gay? I guess because I only have eyes for Knox. No one really exists for me but him.

Knox waits for me, but I see with a sigh of relief that Jack is there too. “Sorry, I can’t go out tonight. Lots of homework. My rough draft for the grant is due.”

I hurry in the opposite direction while Jack distracts Knox.

There’s one thing that will make Knox believe we are over. It’s the place I didn’t want to go, but I have to.

••• Friday

“Hi, Matty.” I drop my two grocery bags on the kitchen counters.

Matty waves his hand from the sofa. I think there’s a permanent indentation from his butt on the cushion. His dark hair gleams wet from his shower.

“Do you have your sexy costume picked out?”

“Knox picked them up yesterday.” I need Matty to get out of here.

“How come this dinner is a secret?”

Jack had Knox issue a team wide omerta—no one speaks of the fact that I came here tonight—or I wouldn’t come.

“Coach Lowe doesn’t want any distractions.” I answer. It’s true enough.

“Huh. He never said anything to us.”

“He told Jack. I don’t want to cause any trouble.” Also true.

I don’t want to be here cooking dinner for Knox and Ty. I’m not in the partying mood, but I have to see this dinner through. I have to act as if nothing out of the ordinary happened, which means I’m excited to see Ty, excited for the stupid Halloween party, excited to cook this meal.

And I have to banter with Matty even though my mouth is coated with acid and self-loathing. “I think the question is: do you have your sexy costume picked out?”

“I can’t go as sexy, Ellie. If I did, none of the other guys would get laid. All the honeys would be flocked around me and that’s damn unfair.”

I laugh, but he’s probably not far off the mark. Matty has zero problems with the ladies.

“Where is everyone?”

“Everyone or Masters?”

“Everyone. Knox will show up. After all, this is his place.”

Matty and I share a smile because we all know that Matty treats it like his place. Jack was probably right making me come here and go through all these planned events as if nothing has changed. It’s impossible not to be around the team and not laugh. They are a great group of guys.

“Knox had to do a couple of interviews. He’s famous now.” Matty wiggles his eyebrows. “Besides, I heard you were cooking dinner.”

“For Knox.” I emphasize his name.

“And his brother.”

“Is your last name Masters?”

“It might as well be. Plus, I can help you. I know how to cook.” Matty gets off the sofa and waltzes into the kitchen.

“You do?”

“Yeah. What did you bring?” He starts to dig through the sacks.

“Steak and potatoes.” I grimace. “Not very original.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ve got a good way to cook steaks. I like to baste them in butter.”

“Baste? That word sounds professional to me.”

“My dad’s a chef,” Matty admits. “I might have picked up a few things from him.”

I slide the steaks over. “Have at it, but I’m still pretending I cooked tonight.”

“No problem.” Matty knows this kitchen better than I do. He pulls out a cast iron pan and sets it on the burner. “Salt and pepper are in the cabinet by the sink.” He points to the cabinet and I trot over to pull out the spices. “You salt and pepper the steaks while I get the rest of this ready. What do you think for potatoes? Scalloped or regular baked?”

“I planned to put them in the microwave,” I confess.

Matty looks at me like I’m a heathen. “Yeah, I’m making scalloped.”

He instructs me on peeling and then slicing them while he adds more salt to the steaks.

“If your fan club could see you now, they’d be standing outside the door in a line like teens waiting for 1D.”

“What makes you think they aren’t already? I had to beat them off with a stick on the walk from Union to here.” He flashes a grin and I realize that Matty Iverson is gorgeous. His blue eyes a shocking contrast to his jet black locks, and he has a wide, infectious smile. It doesn’t hurt that he’s as ripped underneath his V-neck sweater. When Knox is around, all I can do is look at him.

“The defense played great last week,” I tell Matty. The team won twenty-four to fourteen. The offense still struggles but the defense was stifling. They are still undefeated and with only five games left, their national championship hopes were running high which is why I need to do the right thing with Knox now even though the only more painful thing would be to take

“Jack had a great game. We really need him on offense. I swear he’s the only one who can catch sometimes.” Matty bends over and throws the potato, cheese, milk, and bread mixture into the oven.

“Excited about tomorrow?”

“Yeah, the Cougars are a good team but we’re better.” He picks up a towel to wipe off his hands and looks at me with chagrin. “I worried about you and Masters at first. I thought he might get distracted and not as sharp on the field, but he’s elevated his play.”

I didn’t doubt that for a minute. Once Knox steps on the field, you can tell the only thing on his mind is eating the quarterback for lunch. There’s nothing but steely determination in his eyes. “He’s hungry for it.”

“No kidding. He watched every post-game interview, every minute of the championship celebration last year because it made him angry.” Matty winks at me. “We like an angry Masters. Besides he wants to win it this year.”

“I know. He’s declaring.” Ace knew it so I figured most of the team did as well.

“He’d be a fool not to.” His lips quirk up in a rueful smile. “I’m happy for him. It makes sense because if he stays another year, he risks injury. His draft stock is high this year so there’s no reason to wait, but shit, I’ll miss playing with him. So yeah, this year, we’ve got to win it. If we don’t win the title, our careers here will be a bust. All the potential and nothing to show for it.”

He shakes his head and the dread I managed to shelve the other night slides into my stomach.

“You’ll win.” I try to project as much confidence as I can.

“Knock on wood.” Matty bangs the cabinet above his head.

My phone buzzes. I pull it out and read the message from Knox. “They’re on their way.”

“Great. Let’s get these steaks seared.” He throws a stick of butter into the pan followed by the steaks. The smell of deliciously cooked meat fills the kitchen and I try not to gag as my guilt churns in my stomach. I busy myself with cleaning up the kitchen and avoiding Matty’s gaze. I don’t need him seeing how upset I am and then grilling me on what’s wrong until Knox shows up with his brother.

“We need biscuits,” Matty declares. He grabs my arm and pulls me over to the stove. “Keep spooning the butter over the steaks. I’ll be right back.”

He disappears down the stairs. Alone, I can only think of Jack’s words and how stupidly I’ve jeopardized everyone’s future. Not just Jack. Not just Masters. But Matty and Hammer and every other guy on this team who has sacrificed so much to have their perfect season.

I shouldn’t have come here. I should have called Knox and said it was over. Lingering over the corpse of our relationship is bad for everyone. I press my hand against my abdomen, but the knot won’t go away.

By the time Matty returns from wherever he disappeared to, the lump in my stomach has grown to the size of an elephant.

He’s got something clutched in his big fist.

“You’re making biscuits from scratch?”

He slaps a roll of refrigerated biscuit dough onto my palm. “Ta da!”

“Thank God.” I smile weakly.

“Why’s that?”

“Well, finding out you made biscuits from scratch would have totally demoralized me, so I’m glad to find out that you are merely mortal when it comes to this.”

“No one makes them better than the little puffy dough man.”

“Hey, there you are.” I turn to find Knox and his brother standing at the door. Both of them are staring at me.

I know what this is. This is “The Test.” Knox wants me to show him I can tell them apart, like I do from the pictures. It’s the one chance I have. The one action I have never wanted to take. Already the hollowness of losing Knox sets in, but I love him too much to kill his dreams with my selfishness.

I glide to both of them and then place my hands on the first brother’s shoulders. His arms close around me and when I lift my face for a kiss, he dips down to press his foreign lips against mine. Over his shoulder, I can see Knox’s eyes—the confusion, disappointment, the hurt.

I close my own because I can’t see that pain. I close them and keep kissing Ty until his tongue slicks against my mouth.

I pull away because I can’t go that far.

“Hey.” I point to Knox. “This is the infamous Kintyre?”

Ty’s grip around my frame tightens—probably in frustration and disappointment.

Behind me, Matty is silent. He’s curious about the test, but he doesn’t know I’ve failed.

I wait for Knox, but it’s Ty that responds. “Yeah, honey, this is my brother.”

Knox stares at me, willing me to pick up on the mistake. He’s never called me honey. Baby, sweetheart, but never honey.

I smile blindly back at both of them and wait for Ty—acting as Knox—to introduce me to my boyfriend. As he drags Knox forward, I wonder how long they’ll play the twin switch and how many times they have done it before. Would Knox actually let Ty sleep with me?

The thought disgusts me. I want to swipe my hand across my mouth to erase the kiss. Doing anything more intimate with Ty would be soul sucking.

I don’t know how anyone can’t tell the difference. I’d know which was Knox and which was Ty blindfolded. Ty’s hands feel different around my waist. His fingers are thinner and shorter. His body is more bulky. His smell is different. I can’t let this stranger touch me for one more second or I’ll get sick, so I pull away.

I clear my throat. “I failed, didn’t I?”

Knox steps forward, his expression wavers between confusion and unhappiness. “You kissed my brother.”

I give a half laugh and choke back my tears as I grab my purse. “At least it wasn’t with tongue. I’m going now.”

“Wait,” he calls, but I push by both of them, grab my coat, and leap out of there.

Knox grabs me halfway down the stairs.

As I turn back, I see Ty leaning against the open door. He’s judging me. “Let her go.”

“Shut up. Did you really not know?” Knox doesn’t believe me, or he doesn’t want to.

I give the best acting job I can. “I don’t know.” I wave a flustered hand between the two of them. “I don’t even know who’s standing in front of me right now. Is it the brother, or is it Knox?”

Knox looks like I’ve slapped him or something else here.

“Sorry, I know you wanted me to be the one. Sorry I ruined it for you.” I’m surprised at the calmness of my tone. I knew this would happen all along. I’d expected it. Knox is too decent of a person for someone like me. I knew I never deserved him. All this time I’d fooled myself more than anyone else. Jack isn’t the dumb one in the family. It’s me. It’s always been me. Somewhere I find the ability to give Knox a half smile. It strikes him like a physical blow and he jerks back. “Think of it this way. Your seal is broken and you can take advantage of all the girls available to you.”

Knox hisses and drops my arm.

“Let her go,” Ty says again.

And this time…

This time Knox does.

31 Knox

She doesn’t look back. Not even once. Behind me, Matty shuffles awkwardly in the kitchen. Nothing about this seems right to me. Not Ellie leaving. Not her completely defeated. Not her walking off without another look.

None of it.

Matty breaks the silence. “Take a page from the Matty Manual. Fuck the girls you don’t care about. It’s a lot less painful when you both move on.”

He gives me a half-hearted pat on the shoulder and disappears down the stairs. I go inside.

There’s an ache that develops at the core when you have a bad loss. It seeps into your bloodstream and it takes days for that regret and sorrow to work its way out. In the pros, when you’re injured, sometimes they take your blood and send it into a centrifuge to spin out all the bad shit. It’s called a PRP—a platelet rich plasma injection—and supposedly it works like a miracle drug to ease your pain, promote healing, even reduce swelling and ligamentous injury.

That’s what I need right now. A PRP to my heart—Pulp Fiction style. One needle jabbed into my left pec repeatedly until this hideous fucking pain disappears.

“Bro, I am so sorry.” Ty sits, hunched over on the sofa. His hands hang between his legs, tossing the remote back and forth. I stare at the sidewalk Ellie walked down. A few of the guys mill around on the porch.

Snow starts to fall onto the common area of the Playground. At some point, the guys downstairs will throw on their gear and start tossing the ball around, messing up the pure white blanket.

“I messed up back there,” I conclude.

“Yeah, by not waiting. Why didn’t you come up for the bye?”

“She had a softball game.” I grab the remote from Ty to force him to look at me. “No, I messed up by going through with the test. I know she worried about it. She acted weird all week, asking me questions about the draft and then breaking up with me in a fake way. It must be because of the test. You don’t do that sort of shit to people you care about. You don’t put them through a fucking obstacle course and withhold your affection at the end of it if they trip up. That’s what Ellie’s parents have done all her life.”

“I could have taken her into the bedroom right there,” Ty snaps angrily.

No, she had already drawn away. The contact between them was slight. It made me sick to see it, but she barely touched him.

“She’s not Marcie,” I tell him.

“She’s not the one,” he shoots back. “You got it wrong. But like she said, you don’t have to hold back now. You can do anyone you want.”

The idea of being with another girl makes me sick. I can actually taste the bile in the back of my throat. “No.”

“Forget about her. She’s nothing. Besides, you can’t let this affect you.” Ty states the obvious. I don’t bite his head off for it though. He only wants to help, but he doesn’t know Ellie like I know her.

I stand up.

“Where are you going?” he demands.

“Out.” If I tell him, he’ll want to stop me.

I’ve got nearly a foot on Ellie and I work out daily, so it’s easy to catch up with her. I grab her shoulder, and when she turns, she has tears on her face and her nose is Rudolph red. My heart squeezes.

“I’m sorry.” I try to pull her against me but she resists.

“For what? Me not able to tell you two apart?”

“No, for making you go through with it. It doesn’t matter.” I reach for her again but she backs away. “I don’t care.”

Her lips twist in a bitter line. “I kissed your brother. There’s absolutely no difference between the two of you in real life. It even felt the same.”

I ignore the stabbing pain, the image she’s conjuring. “Why are you lying to me?”

She presses her lips together. They’re trembling. She’s trembling. I can’t take it anymore and I pull her rigid frame against mine.

“I can’t be with you, Knox. I told you I wanted to sleep with a virgin and now…now you deserve someone better than me.”

“Don’t say that shit, Ellie. You don’t believe it.”

“You don’t want to believe it. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that I’m not the one. I’m not. Go home, Masters. Please.”

It’s the use of my last name that breaks through my thick skull. My hand drops to my side. This time when she whirls around and runs, I don’t chase her.

Ty is still sitting on the sofa where I left him. ESPN is on. They’re talking about the matchups tomorrow but none of it registers.

“You want to talk?” he asks quietly as I toe off my boots.

“No.” What’s there to say? I fucked up. “Let’s eat.”

The food is cold but Ty and I eat it anyway. We talk about the Cougar’s offense and the inability of their offensive line get their pads low enough to stop a hard charging pass rush like ours. It should be an easy win for us. The Cougar’s are the second-worst team in our conference.

After dinner, Matty comes up to tell us some of the guys are going to watch Any Given Sunday. I beg off citing tiredness as an excuse and they let me go without calling me on my bullshit. Knowing I need some privacy, Ty accepts the invitation and leaves.

In the quiet of my bedroom, I take myself in hand and close my eyes. There I see Ellie as she looked that night at Hammer’s party. Her eyes went wide as saucers and she licked her lips as if parched as a sinner in the desert.

In every line of her body, I read she wanted her hand around my dick. She wanted me in that moment more than I’ve wanted most things in my life, until I met her.

She started panting. I don’t know if she even realized it. Her breath came short and her chest heaved, pushing those pretty tits against her sparkly top, making my vision blur.

I tighten my grip around my dick, using all the precome to lube my shaft. I cup my balls with my free hand and let my head fall back onto the pillows. The images in my head shift from that night to the one where I took her for the first time…or maybe it’s more appropriate to think of her taking me. Whatever. That night I knew a God existed. That heaven existed.

The hot suck of her body on my dick gave more pleasure than I thought I had in me. I move my hand more rapidly and my hips jack into the air.

I love you.

I don’t know who’s saying it in my head—me or her or us together, but the memory of it makes me come in one long shuddering motion. The orgasm rips through me, tears open the scar tissue over my heart, and renders me a gasping, pained mess.

The lonely night stretches endlessly in front of me.

••• Game Day: Warriors 7-0

At the start of the game the next day, I don’t feel different. When I stand on the sideline, I’m as eager to get on the field as ever. At least I understand what goes on during a football game. My goal is to stop the ball from advancing down the field. There’s no uncertainty here.

But today I’m sluggish off the snap. My feet feel heavy and everyone speeds by me like I’m standing still.

“What’s going on in your head, Masters?” Coach shouts at me when I come off the field, after Wisconsin scored the second touchdown.

“Nothing, Coach.”

“Well, start thinking about some plays.”

Our defensive coordinator is less generous. He grabs me by the facemask and screams. “Get your head in the game.”

The other guys huddle around me on the bench as Coach Johnson draws up the plays that Wisconsin is running. They aren’t surprise plays. But they’re getting off the ball faster. Their cuts are sharper. The left outside linebacker whose ass I’ve owned for two years is pushing me backward.

“She’s in your head, man,” Matty hisses when Johnson moves down to talk to the backfield.

I shake my head. “No. We’re just off today.”

That much is true. Everyone on the field is slow today. Ace seems to throw everything a yard too short. Campbell isn’t playing. I don’t know if he’s injured, but he’s standing on the sidelines, dressed in a suit and tie.

Our corners get wasted in the backfield. Matty, Hammer, me, and the rest of the D-line move like our cleats stick to the turf.

At halftime, we have managed to move the ball a total of thirty yards on offense, and above our heads on the giant scoreboard hangs a big fat zero. The home crowd jeers us as we run down the tunnel.

Coach tears us a new asshole in the locker room, telling us we’re playing like quitters. We get time to piss and hydrate before we’re given the heads up that we need to be on the field. I straighten my pads and head for the door when Coach grabs me.

“You’re playing like this is some unranked, non-scholarship team we’ve put on our schedule to pad the wins instead of the fucking Big Ten champions,” Coach hisses. “This is the real deal, Masters. You want to win the championship?”

“Yes, sir.” I ignore the fact that my fingers are numb from the cold and pain, and that there’s a throbbing in my ankle that developed sometime in the middle of the second quarter after I tried to sidearm the right side offensive lineman.

“That doesn’t sound real convincing to me. If you’re thinking about Sunday, stop. If you’re thinking about the title, stop. The only thing that should be in your head is eating those Badgers for lunch.” Coach’s voice raises at the end.

When the guys in front of me pause, the D-line coach yells: “What the fuck are you ladies gawking at? Get your asses onto the field.”

“Yes, sir. I want to win.”

Coach swings me around. He’s five inches shorter and probably a hundred pounds less, but I let him toss me around like a fish on a sailing boat.

“This might be the closest thing you have to being God, Masters. Ninety-five percent of the pro players don’t get a whiff of a championship. They chase it all their lives. You have it in your fucking hand. What will you do? Will you piss it away? Or will you grab that opportunity by the fucking balls and claim it as yours? If you want it, nothing stands in your way. Nothing.” He slaps his clipboard against his thigh and stalks out.

“Come on, Masters. The team relies on you,” the D-coach chides.

The image of Ellie rises to my mind.

If you want it…nothing stands in your way.

“Yes, sir.” I pull down my helmet.

It’s not Ellie that cost me this game. It’s me. My inability to see the damn forest for the trees.

“Next possession is ours.” I stand and walk down the line of seated defensive ends and linebackers. “No more first downs. Hammer, you stuff that motherfucker at the line. He’s creeping to the left every time they run. Jesse, go inside. Forty-five is way weaker on the left. He’ll try to hold you every time.” Down I go, talking to each one until the whistle blows and it’s time for the defense to take the field.

For three downs, we stuff their offense and the defense leaves the field excited. We don’t even mind when we have to strap on our helmets three minutes later because Ace and company can’t get a first down. We slap each other’s shoulder pads and helmets, go out there, and drive the opponents deep into their own territory.

This time, with better field position, Ace and Ahmed, our running back, hook up for a short pass play which Ahmed turns into a sweet run down to the twenty. We settle for a field goal, but it’s a score. We don’t have the donut hanging over our heads.

We score again and close the gap. At ten to fourteen, we’re down by one score. In a miraculous turn of events, with only a minute left, I knock the ball out of the quarterback’s hands in the end zone, and when the running back recovers it, Jesse is on him.

Safety! Twelve to fourteen!

We’re still in this goddamn game. We run around, bumping each other’s chests, slapping asses, and knocking our helmets together like it’s the motherfucking Super Bowl.

I run down the sidelines, yelling encouragement in everyone’s ear. Heads are up and eyes are hungry but the clock is against us.

In the end, we run out of time. We started our comeback too late, and when the clock flips to all zeros, we are short by a field goal.

We’ve lost.