Allie
The celebration continued long after the final whistle.
Music filled the private team area while players, coaches, and families crowded around tables covered with food and drinks. Someone had brought out a second trophy for photographs because the first one was already covered in fingerprints and spilled champagne.
Chase stood in the centre of the room with his teammates.
His hair was still damp from the shower, and the collar of his shirt remained open. Every few minutes, someone pulled him into another photograph or congratulated him again.
He smiled.
Not the controlled smile he gave reporters.
A real one.
Warm.
Exhausted.
Happy.
I remained near the doorway for several seconds, watching him.
Months earlier, I would have measured the room differently.
Counted cameras.
