I had arranged to introduce my parents to Dr. Haynes earlier since his office was conveniently on the way to the stadium. We stayed and chatted long enough for Dr. Haynes to tell my parents how well I had been doing, but not long enough for my mom to embarrass the shit out of me. Just kidding. While Dad and Dr. Haynes talked about the industry, Mom looked my mentor up and down, biting her lip.

We had barely made it into the hallway when my mom turned and said a little too loudly, “Amanda! You didn’t tell me how cute he is, you’ve been holding out on me!” My mom had never really been aware of just how loud her voice was. I prayed to whoever was listening that Dr. Haynes hadn’t heard my mom. Or if he did, that he would never bring it up.

“Oh, look at the time, we’ve really got to hurry if we’re going to make it to the gift shop and get you guys all decked out before the kickoff!” I said while gesturing for my parents to walk faster.

“Look at you, Amanda! Using football lingo like it’s nothing!” my dad gushed. It was actually really cute seeing how proud of me they were.

We quickly went to the gift shop, where my parents bought tee shirts, hats, and foam fingers for the game and still made it to our fantastic seats on time. “Mom, do you want something to drink?” I asked innocently.

“You know, I could go for a cocktail. Do you think I could get a martini delivered to our seat?”

“I figured you’d want to have some fun,” I said. “Here.” I slid my bangle flask off my wrist and handed it to her. Security patted everyone down before entering the stadium, so it was nearly impossible to bring in outside alcohol. But this little buddy of mine looked like an inconspicuous, oversized bracelet. I used to bring it with me to quite a few places back in the day.

“Oh!” Mom exclaimed, twisting off the small top and knocking some of the burning liquid back. “How fun! It’s like 1994 all over again.”

My dad’s eyes went wide, and he shook his head, probably already mentally calculating how far my place was and if he’d need to order a car or carry her there.

The game started, and slowly Mom started to feel the buzz. I watched Oakley, this time with a bit more knowledge under my belt. He was so skilled. “SACK HIM!” Mom screamed. “Gosh, I love football,” she added when a player bent over to stretch in front of us.

Being right next to the field meant I got a front row seat to how seriously Oakley took the game. His steel eyes were trained on the field. And when he wasn’t watching the game...he was watching me.