My pantsuit, not quite a pantsuit, was made by Tía Juana back when I was in high school, and since I stopped growing around junior year, I’ve never needed a new one. She tailored it off her brother and the youngest of the three siblings, Tío Pablo’s, old mariachi outfit, but with the cut of Mumma’s favourite Indian outfit from the 1990s. The trousers are wide legged and high waisted, and the top is technically another two pieces. One is the solid black crop-top blouse, matching the plain trousers, and the other is the black duster jacket. Tía and Buela embroidered it themselves, with white vines and gold edging modelled from Tío’s mariachi jacket, and red roses on the shoulders. It’s what I’ve worn for years, and I don’t plan on switching things up anytime soon.

I’m taken aback when Colt shows up at my side for the walk into the stadium, a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses resting on his face, sports jacket ironed, matching black to my suit, and most surprising of all, a tie with the exact same embroidery as my duster. I hadn’t expected him to actually work up the courage to ask Savannah about it, especially after he went to hide in his mom’s garden, but I sent him the photo when he asked, and apparently, here he is. It doesn’t spare my attention that this is the first time I’m seeing him in formal wear since as far back as my quinceañera, and that he certainly cleans up nicely. Really nicely, honestly. I curse my easily distracted brain.

He tips his head my way with a sheepish smile. ‘You look good, Red Card.’

‘Not so bad yourself, New Haven.’

Someone’s big camera flashes our way, a sobering reminder that this is not only one of the biggest events for Oklahoma sports, but also one of the best-covered. And that means Colt and I can’t be lacking at any point this weekend.

We exchange a knowing glance, and he does the corny slide of the glasses down his nose, a nod of his head, a teasing smirk. ‘Right on in. They’re waiting for you.’

‘Oh, Colt, you know well enough that they’re waiting for us.’ I raise an eyebrow. ‘Stick to the game plan.’

Side by side, we file inside towards the tunnel, down the halls through to the locker rooms. All the hubbub of the crowd fades out pretty quickly, and the girls trickle steadily into the room, already looking for their bags so they can get to locking in for the game.

Colt and I stop in the hall just before we reach the lockers. Technically he stops first, and then gives me that little glance of his that tells me to hang on. ‘I wanna make sure you’re okay.’