That is until the final few minutes when Houston has a bad pass, and the ball comes bouncing over to where I sit on the sideline. It’s already out of bounds by the time Connor dives for it, and there’s truly no possible way he could save it. I don’t know why he’d even attempt to. His giant body falls into my lap, spilling my drink all over my chest. The crowd around me yelps, and the heavy blow to my body is a bit painful. “I’m so sorry,” he says as he stands from my lap. He holds on to my shoulders, bending down and making himself eye level. “Are you okay? Let me get you another drink.” He
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