And before I can give it any thought, my feet carry me away from the fence and back toward Begonia.

“What are you doing?” Annabel yells. “He’s the enemy.”

“I’m winning either way.”

Fitz is grinning at me, mud splattered all over his shirt and up his neck, and somehow he’s still glowing with a natural charisma I could never replicate.

It almost makes it worth the effort I’m about to expend.

“You helped me too,” Fitz tells Annabel.

“I gave you intel, which clearly did no good. I was evening the odds, not doing the actual task for you.”

“Ready?” I crowd Begonia on one side while Fitz approaches her from the front. I throw myself at the pig, catching her back hooves with my hands, lying facedown in the dirt while Fitz gets the dress over her squirming head.

“You’re both crazy,” Annabel shouts. “And stupid.”

“Can we do the name calling another time? I have a pig to dress up here,” Fitz says.

I can’t see much from my position on the ground, but I hear some shuffling and squirming, then Fitz yells, “Got it!”

I release Begonia, and she scurries over to the shade by her trough.

I roll onto my butt and find Fitz hovering in front of me, his hand held out.

After a moment’s hesitation, I reach up and he grasps my hand, pulling me to my feet. I try to ignore the electric shock that shoots into my palm when our hands meet. It’s nothing. Just a static charge or something.

“Do you think she’s been traumatized?” I wipe my muddy hands on my muddier pants.

“I think I am. You smell something awful.” He grins.

“You’re not much better.”

We’re both covered in gunk. My clothes are ruined. “But that was fun, right?” he asks.

I scrunch my face. “Is fun the word we want to use here?”

He laughs. “Come on, champ.” He holds the gate open for me, happy even in defeat, which surprises me again. What happened to the rude jerk from a couple days ago? Is this all a ruse? Maybe he does have the jersey pic and I unwittingly aided him in victory.

But no, we jog back to the library, where Jude is holding court and I’m declared the event winner, handed the key, and subjected to both applause from those who bet on me and groans of dismay from those who bet on Fitz.

It’s now two to one, in my favor.

I don’t see Fitz in the crowd anywhere. He must’ve already left.

And I’ve won.

So why do I feel guilty?

Football is to Texas as backbones are to vertebrates. The entire state would collapse into a bloody heap without it.

I thought partying at Jude’s during the week was chaos, but it being a Saturday night after Begonia Day, combined with a Fighting Boars football victory, tonight’s chaos makes previous evenings seem like teatime at an old folks’ home.