You win

Westerman - bruts & bellas

I walk to the other side of the car, pulling the handle to the passenger side. Del shifts in her seat, her dress riding up slightly as she steps down. Now, I've seen girls in heels before, sometimes being the only thing they actually have on, but as her leg stretches out, my eyes lock onto the gold heels. They elegantly lace up her calves and I find myself wanting those tan legs hooked on either side of my shoulders being the one to untie them.

Jesus Christ.

I shut the door as Del stands on the curb anxiously toying with the ends of her ponytail, I offer my hand turning my palm upwards and she offers a small smile before intertwining her delicate fingers with mine, a different feel to how she cupped our hands before. I hand the keys to the valet along with a twenty as we make our way inside.

The Bruts and Bellas is like any other banquet: silver and gold decorations, assigned seating, a three-course meal, dancing, drinking, and phony conversations no one wants to partake in.

The venue is already busy, people dropping off their coats at the coat check, workers walking around with mini appetizers and boosters scanning the room for someone of importance to entertain. I glance at Del, whose head is slightly tipped up, her brows almost imperceptibly furrowed as she gazes the large sign: "Bruts" with a football just under the "S" and "Bellas" with a bow.

"That's degrading," She mumbles before I catch sight of my mother and father approaching.

"Sofia!" My mom opens her arms, embracing Del, while my father offers a handshake, engaging in small talk.

I spot one of the athletic coordinators and wave them over while Del is preoccupied. "Is there anything we can do for you?" the girl asks.

"Yeah, can you take down the sign? It's outdated and we don't want a bad rep." She nods before walking away.

"Stephan," my father speaks up, bringing the attention back to me. "I expect you to talk to Darnell Harrissford tonight." I nod, before giving my mom a side hug and then guiding Sofia by the small of her back toward our table.

"Westerman," I hear Coach Truman call from not far behind, talking to none other than Darnell Harrissford—filthy rich aka our biggest donor.

"I'll just be—" Del motions toward our table, but I cut her off.

"Come with me." I gently take her hand as she trails behind me until we're joined by Coach Truman, wearing a suit for what seems like the first time in forever, Darnell Harrissford and unfortunately now, Austin Tebow and his date as they head this way.

Great.

"This must be the girlfriend," Truman smiles, extending his hand to Del.

"Sofia." She greets him with a smile while Truman blabbers about how she's doing me some good, though my attention is fully on Austin, who seems more engaged with my date than his own.

"Stephan Westerman." Darnell's voice snaps my stare from Austin, and I meet his hand with a firm shake. "You've been phenomenal this season," he starts, then briefly looks at Tebow. "You both have."

"We couldn't do it without your support. You know, as we say—" I start.

"The numbers off the field help the numbers on the field," he finishes with a deep chuckle. "Anything to help the school, especially with teams succeeding like you guys have been."

"Actually, my girlfriend here is also the captain of the UFN women's soccer team. Their record beats ours by a landslide." His black, curly eyebrow raises at that comment before extending his hand toward Del. "Is that right—"