My Life as a Teenaged Superhero (AU, M/L, Adult) (Complete)

[Applebylicious]

<center>Chapter 49</center>


~Max~


We won the SEC Championship against Georgia, though it turned out to be a lot closer than the media predicted. Thanks to the neck-and-neck scoring, I didn’t get a chance to set foot on the field, which was a bit disappointing considering Liz was there and I really wanted a chance to show off. But in the end, I’m just glad we won.

The drive back from the Georgia Dome was filled with raucous celebration as the announcement came over the radio on the bus. The LSU Tigers were going up against the Georgia Bulldogs yet again, in the Nokia Sugar Bowl. And this time, it would be on Louisiana soil.

“New Orleans, here we come baby!” my friend from the shower hollers, inciting a round of guffaws as one of the older teammates pulls his jersey over his head, leaving him tangled in pads and equipment.

“All right, all right,” Coach Saban laughs, shaking his head which is still damp from the traditional Gatorade bath. “Shut up and listen up! I don’t wanna see any of your ugly faces for the rest of the weekend. You guys earned it. Don’t let me get any phonecalls in the middle of the night to bail anyone outta jail, because I’m gonna be pissed and I’ll make every damn one of ya report to Charles McClendon Facility to run plays until the wee hours of the goddamned morning. I’ll see you all Monday for practice.”

We all let out a chorus of the fight song, pounding our hands on the backs of the leather seats as he holds the trophy over his head. The laughter continues on around me, but I can’t get the fact out of my mind that in a few hours I’ll be saying goodbye to Liz yet again. After holding her in my arms at night for the past week, I know it’s going to be bad to watch her get back on that plane.

When we reach the university later that night, all the exhilaration over winning has been replaced by sagging fatigue and the wish for a soft bed. After exchanging some words with the other QB, I sling my pack over my shoulder and walk across the parking lot to where the jeep is waiting. Fumbling in my pockets for the keys, I nearly crack my jaw on a wide yawn.

Once behind the wheel I pull out my cell and dial the apartment, hoping to hear Liz’s voice, knowing she left before the team did. Sure enough, a sleepy voice picks up on the other line. “Max?”

“Hey baby,” I murmur, shifting into drive as I hold the phone to my ear. “We just got in, so I’ll be home in a few minutes, okay?” As soon as the words come out of my mouth, a strange sense of perfection washes over me. Home. It feels so fucking amazing to call her and say I’ll be home soon.

Before I can fully contemplate this startling revelation and the thoughts it induces, she answers, “You don’t have to…debrief or something?”

I have to chuckle at her obvious ignorance of football procedure. “We won a game, baby. Not a war. There’s nothing to debrief.”

“Looked like a war from where I was sitting,” she humphs. “That was really…intense, Max. Is it always like that?”

“Only when you take two really closely matched teams and throw them together for a major title,” I answer wryly. “And yeah…it was intense, huh? I honestly didn’t know if we’d pull it off.”

“I never doubted you for a minute,” she says loyally.

“Baby, I didn’t even play,” I feel inclined to point out, even though a sappy smile stretches across my face at her comment. “I was the token bench warmer.”

“You were not!” she gasps vehemently. “You’re just as important as the rest of those guys! Plus, you’re ten times better.”

“Whoa, remind me not to insult myself ever again,” I tease. “I wouldn’t want to piss off my pretty little bodyguard. She’s kinda scary.”

“Har har,” she grumbles. “So…”

“So…” I sigh. “You packed up? Everything ready to go in the morning?”

“You sound so eager to get rid of me,” she pouts in a small voice.

“No way,” I say instantly. “You know that’s not true, baby…it’s going to kill me to see you get on that plane, knowing you’re still going to be in the country and I won’t be able to see you.”

The silence on the other end lets me know she’s busy contemplating something, and sure enough a few seconds later she says softly, “Maybe I could stay a few more days…?”

I sigh, squeezing the steering wheel tightly. “I want you to more than anything,” I answer gruffly. “But it’s not fair to everyone else, Liz. Your family misses you, too. I…I can’t…”

“I know,” she sighs. “I know, I just…”

“I know.”

Another moment of silence, before she says in an overly bright tone, “Well, we still have tonight.” Her voice is teasing and seductive, and exactly what I need to drive away the melancholy feelings creeping in.

“I’m pulling into the parking lot now,” I answer huskily. “How about you meet me at the door…wearing nothing but a pretty smile?”

“Deal,” she giggles breathlessly. I snap the phone off and jump out of the jeep, bounding up the steps with an eager expression on my face. The second my hand falls on the doorknob, it’s wrenched open and an arm yanks me through the opening, soft lips pressing firmly against my own.

I stumble against Liz, turning her around and shoving her up against the door as my hands grip her bare bottom. “Hi,” I manage between scorching kisses as her small hands begin tearing at my clothes. “Whoa…baby, I’m all sweaty.”

“You’re all sexy,” she purrs. “And I want you, right now.”

I’m not about to argue as she pulls my shirt over my head and latches onto my zipper. My hands fall to her shoulders, stepping out of the shorts as she shoves them down my legs. My underwear follows and then she’s in my arms, shapely legs wrapping around my waist as our mouths meet again.

“Bedroom,” she whispers between kisses. “Hurry, Max!”

When we collapse onto my bed minutes later, I catch her hand as it slides down to circle my cock. “Wait,” I manage thickly. “Liz…slow down.”

“No,” she whimpers, her hands coming up to shove me back as she crawls on top of me. “I don’t want to take it slow. I want it hard…” she leans down and nips my lower lip, positioning herself to sink down on me. “I want it fast…and I want it now.”

“Liz…” I trail off on a long groan as she closes around me, her hips grinding as my eyes nearly cross. My hands come up to clench around her hips. “Oh, fuck!”

She bows her back, letting out an entirely feminine sound of pleasure as her hands slide up my slick chest. “Mmm…” she purrs, looking back down at me through darkened eyes as her palms glide up my shoulders then down my arms. Linking our fingers together, she brings them up to her breasts. “Touch me,” she whispers.

I don’t have to be told twice, my thumbs circling her distended nipples and tugging gently as she gasps in response. She stills, arching into my touch. “Ride me,” I rasp, lifting my hips and spurring her back into action.

And boy, does she. Within minutes, we’re both crying out in orgasmic completion, Liz collapsing against my chest as I bury my fingers in her hair, dragging her lips to mine.

As we lie there tangled together, she whispers into my neck, “When I transfer here…will we live together?”

The question takes me by surprise, not that she asked it but that she felt the need to. “Was there somewhere else you planned on living?” I answer a tad gruffly, lifting her head to meet my gaze. She nibbles her lips, an uncertain gleam in her eyes. I groan, pulling her down to rest against my forehead. “Baby…talking about this isn’t going to make it any easier to watch you leave me again.”

“I’m sorry…” she whispers, nuzzling my throat. “How is it that I miss you, when I’m right here with you?”

I’m not sure how to reply to those words, other than, “I know.” My arms wrap snugly around her, pulling her against my side as I move to spoon her. The sound of the celing fan whirs over our head, drying the sweat on our bodies as we both lie there in silence.



<center>***</center>



“Are you gonna stay at the hotel with us?” Cam’s eager voice sounds over the phone as I continue throwing clothes into a small duffle bag. “It’s owned by that girl on TV’s family. You know, the one Dad says is a total slut?”

“The Hilton?” I laugh, shaking my head. “And yeah, I’m gonna stay with you guys.”

A loud whoop sounds over the line and I hear him eagerly reporting my answer to whoever’s there with him. Then he yells, “This is so sweet! I hear that place you’re gonna play is like, humongous! I could get lost!”

I raise my brows at his excited tone, but decide not to ask. “Yeah, The Louisiana Superdome’s pretty big,” I confirm. “Different from Tiger Stadium.”

“I read that they call Tiger Stadium Death Valley. What’s up with that?” he asks in a hushed tone. “Did someone die there? Is it haunted?”

I chuckle at his youthful enthusiasm. “Not quite, pal. It’s because back during a game in the eighties against Auburn, an LSU quarterback threw a game-winning touchdown pass and the crowd reaction caused an earth tremor. They had it on record with a seismograph and everything. That’s like a scale that measures earthquakes.”

“Wow…” he breathes. “They yelled so loud it made an earthquake?”

“Pretty much,” I confirm, feeling my skin begin to tingle in excitement as I retell the infamous tale. “Crazy, huh?”

“Dude, maybe you can make it happen in New Orleans,” he answers excitedly.

“Cam, I doubt I’ll play,” I hate to tear down his obvious elation at the thought of his cousin causing an earthquake, but I can’t help but feel the need to let him down gently. “I’m not the starting quarterback, which means they’ll only call me in if something happens…or if there’s no chance of us losing.”

As if he never heard me, he continues on with, “I overheard Dad and Uncle Phillip talking about how there’s gonna be all these television cameras and junk there. People looking for new NFL players. Are you nervous?”

Am I nervous? I’m about to attend my very first Sugar Bowl, which is one of the most prestigious titles in college football aside from the National Championship. Hell yeah, I’m nervous…even though I’ll most likely end up cheering from the bench. But I simply say, “Nah, it’ll be fun.”

Obviously awed by my nonchalance, although he could never know how much it cost me, he goes, “Wow. All those people looking at ya and stuff…I think I’d throw up.”

The wisdom of youth. “You’d probably start doing cartwheels in front of the cameras,” I state wryly, looking over my shoulder for my sandals. Changing subjects I ask, “So how’s Liz?”

He leaps upon the new topic with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. “Dude, it’s so cool! She’s been hanging out with me all the time. We went to see Shrek the other day…”

As he keeps talking, I begin to realize just how pathetic I am when I’m jealous of an eleven-year-old. Plastering a smile on my face, I break into his lengthy monologue by saying, “How’s Channon?”

Instant silence. Then he says a bit defensively, “How should I know?”

Smirking, I return to folding my clothes. “Yeah, right. So I guess you haven’t told her you want to give her a big wet kiss?” I joke, laughing as he makes sputtering sounds into the phone.

“Dude, you’re gross!”

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” I tease. “Okay, kid…I gotta finish packing and call Liz. I’ll see you guys this weekend, okay?”

“Okay,” he grumbles.

We hang up, and I’m preparing to dial Liz’s number when my phone starts ringing in my hand. Expecting it to be Cameron with some last minute request, I answer with a playful, “Get lost, squirt.”

“Excuse me?” Tess demands. “I know you didn’t just call me squirt, Max Evans.”

“Sorry, I thought you were Cam,” I roll my eyes. “What’s up?”

“Why don’t you come and see for yourself?” she says mysteriously, then lets out a muffled shriek. I hear her cover the phone and say something, but I can’t make out the words. “Max, get your ass over here!”

“I’m packing,” I point out. “You should be, too. I know you, Tess. You’re as big a procrastinater as I am.”

“For your information, I’m packed and ready to go,” she returns prudishly. “Now, get your tight butt over here, Max!”

I hear a cry of affront in the background and raise a brow in curiosity. “Who’s over there?” I wonder, dropping a pair of shorts into my bag. “Tess?”

“Be here or be square, Evans,” is all she says before I hear the dial tone. Unable to douse my curiosity, I shrug and put the rest of my packing off in order to drive across campus.

As I jog up the stairs leading to Tess’s apartment, the strangest feeling of expectation lingers in my belly. I let myself in with the spare key we exchanged, and sure enough, find myself staring into three pairs of grinning eyes.

“Look at the big football star,” Michael chuckles, walking across the room and looping an arm around me. “Surprised to see us, Maxwell?”

“Hell yes,” I manage, hugging my best friend as we all laugh. “What the fuck are you guys doing here?” I demand, turning towards Kyle. “I…I thought you were in Roswell.”

“We couldn’t miss this,” Kyle points out with a snort. “You’re going to the fucking Sugar Bowl, Max. We’re there all the way.”

“Yeah,” Michael agrees, rocking back on his heels and meeting my gaze. “We already made reservations at the Hilton and everything. Our bags are in the corner, we’re along for this ride, Maxwell.”

“Max, say something,” Tess laughs.

“I’m not sure what to say,” I admit, vaguely embarrassed to know that I’m pretty damn moved by their presence here. “Damn guys…this is…this is awesome of you.”

Kyle leans forward to regard Michael. “The dumbass really is surprised to see us, Mike. He must think we’re a couple of shitty friends.”

“He’s just overwhelmed by your powerful scent, Valenti,” Michael returns with an exaggerated sniff. “Mr. Way Too Much Cologne Wearer.”

“Suck my dick, man.”

I laugh at the familiar repartee. “Shit, it really is good to see you guys again. It’s been…what…two months since we were all together?”

“Three,” they both answer at the same time, then flush slightly. “Not that I was counting or anything,” Kyle adds quickly while Tess giggles.

“Well, I’m really glad you guys came,” I state sincerely. “It…it means a lot knowing you’re gonna be there.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence as we all deal with the emotion of the moment, then Michael grins and says, “Don’t you make me cry, Maxwell.”

“Definitely a Hallmark moment,” Kyle sniffles, then receives a slap upside the head from Tess. “Damn woman? Don’t you ever quit?”



<center>***</center>



Two days later, I’m standing against a locker, my heart in my throat as I listen to the coach give us the traditional pregame sermon. The air around me is thick with nervous excitement and tension as we all bow our heads during the prayer.

I recall seeing the assembly of media vans outside the Louisiana Superdome, along with the typical crowd of tailgaters and fans. Suddenly, Cam’s words about throwing up don’t seem so amusing. I allow myself a moment of thanks that I won’t be the one in the spotlight, at least this time.

“Amen,” Saban’s voice rings out, and a chorus of echoes sound. Then everything explodes into motion as the warning bell for the opening kick off sounds and we all start out of the room in a line. The sound of the crowd reaches my ears, a deafening roar that’s audible even through the layers of concrete between us and the stadium.

I think of my family and friends out there watching, waiting. Of Liz and the rest of the gang back home watching, waiting. And the butterflies intensify. My feelings must be written all over my face, because the senior quarterback stops me just outside of the arched opening, a concerned expression on his face.

“You all right, Evans?”

“Yeah,” I nod my head, fighting the sickness rising. “I’m just…overwhelmed, I guess.”

He nods at my honesty, clapping my shoulder and leaning forward. “It’s just us out there, man. Forget all the cameras and bullshit. It’s us and the other team. Play the game the way you were born to do.”

I want to ask him why he’s bothering to tell me all this, seeing as how he’s the one who should be worrying. Then I realize he’s simply preparing me for the games to come. The times when I’ll be the one out there, carrying my team on my shoulders.

“Thanks,” I answer sincerely, and pull on my helmet and mouthpiece. “Good luck.”

“Who needs luck?” he grins, then shoves me forward and out into the brightly lit stadium where thousands of fans are cheering. Even though I know it’s not for me, my ego can’t help but receive a burst as I trot over to the sidelines with the rest of the team.

We win the coin toss, choosing to defer to the second half. I watch as the special teams set up for the kickoff to Georgia. The drive is long and caught somewhere down at the thirty, where a Bulldog runs it into the forty before being taken down.

As the defense prepares to take to the field, I search the crowds of people wearing purple and gold, even though I know I’ll never be able to make out my family and friends. Just knowing they’re out there brings a grin to my face.

I turn back in time to see a quick-footed receiver catch the pass and run it in for a first down. A loud groan goes up from the LSU fans as the players line up for the next play. Nothing comes from the next two plays, and Georgia is forced to punt.

By the end of the first half, we’re down one touchdown and the freak heatwave that has risen from the Bayou has even the most seasoned Louisiana natives sweating profusely in the muggy evening. As we leave the field for the halftime break, the Tiger Band erupts into a spirited rendition of “Fight For LSU”.

During the length of the halftime period, we listen as the coaches explain whatever changes they’re implementing into the next half. New plays are mapped out, fresh players are brought in, and I’m…still warming the bench. Not surprising, since at the moment we need our best and that’s the other guy.

The third quarter starts and we manage to even the score on the first possession thanks to a miscommunication between the Georgia QB and his wide receiver, resulting in an intercepting touchdown. The stadium explodes in cheers and groans as the cheerleaders egg the fans on.

Neither team puts any more points on the board until the five minute mark, when something truly horrible happens. I watch our QB set up for a passing play, when somehow a defender breaks through the offensive line and sacks him with all the force of a mack truck into a bicycle.

A loud gasp goes up as he falls to the ground, one leg bending at an awkward angle. I can practically hear the snap as bone breaks and the expression of sharp pain that crosses beneath his helmet.

“Shit, get the medics out there,” Coach Saban’s severe tone sounds, and the rest of the team watches in sheer horror as the doctors rush the field, huddling around the injured player. It’s almost deathly quiet in the stadium as everyone wonders about the outcome of the tackle.

My own heart threatens to stop beating as realization dawns. If something is wrong…I’m up. I’m going to fucking be called on to play in the Sugar Bowl, after participating in a handful of games throughout the season.

Throwing up is a distinct possibility.

To no one’s surprise but everyone’s dismay, a stretcher is called for as the medics lift our senior QB off the field and roll him off to take care of the injuries. My ears ringing, I barely hear the Coach calling for a timeout before my name is snapped.

“Evans, get over here.”

I manage to make my feet move forward even though everything seems to be moving at a fast pace. I’m half-afraid I might pass out at Nick Saban’s feet as he pierces me with an intense gaze.

“You’re in, Max,” he says in a surprisingly gentle tone that contradicts the expression on his face. The fact that he uses my first name…that he even knows it is enough of a blow, but then he adds, “It’s up to you, kid. Can you handle it?”

A million thoughts race through my mind in the few seconds it takes me to answer, and surprisingly…they’re all of Liz. Or maybe it’s not so surprising. She once said that being with me made her feel…invincible. I remember laughing about it at the time, but now her words take on a whole new meaning. I know that somewhere out there, she’s watching me right now. And it’s like something inside of me just…calms. My focus sharpens and I’m a Superhero. I’m every Comic Book character ever written down, and I damn well know I can pull this off. There’s no question.

“Yeah, Coach,” I answer in a firm voice. “I’m ready.”

He eyes me a moment longer, then nods before turning to address the assistant coaches and trainers. When he turns back, he rebriefs me on the plays and gameplans, and then sends me off.

As the whistle is blown signalling the end of our timeout, I take to the field with the rest of the offense. I refuse to ponder my sweaty palms, my rapidly beating pulse. With an assured attitude, I relay the plan in the huddle, call for a break and line up behind the center.

“Blue 22,” I call out through the plastic of my helmet. “Hut, hut hut!” I hold my hands out, awaiting the snap. As soon as the ball lands in my hands, I fall back into the pocket as the players explode into motion. The linemen hold back the rushing defense as I scan the receivers. My receivers.

“You can do this, Evans,” I murmur to myself, spotting a purple, white and gold jersey to my left, open for the moment. Without giving myself time to think, I hurl the ball in a perfect arc into his hands. As soon as it hits his chest, he’s off, trotting across the grass as red jersies trail after him.

He’s brought down at the forty, marking a first down as the crowd erupts. I close my eyes, swallowing hard as we line up at the new mark. I set up to run the same play.

Another ten yards gained. Then five. Then three, but not enough to gain the much needed points to break ahead. As we leave the field for the special teams to punt, I tear off my helmet and take a sip of the proffered Gatorade thrust at me by one of the trainers.

“Good set, Evans,” Saban calls out, pacing the sidelines without looking at me. “Need some points up on the board.”

The next two possessions reap no consequence, despite my best efforts otherwise. I refuse to be disappointed, assuring myself that I’m doing just what my fellow quarterback told me to do. I’m playing the game, the best way I know how. The rest will come.

“How ya doing?” a voice calls out, and I look over to meet the gaze of the freshman I’d talked with in the shower. He’s sweaty and tousled as a result of coming in to replace one of the overworked linemen on offense. “Getting pretty intense out there.”

“Superman,” I mumble without thinking as he gives me a strange look.

“Superman?” he echoes.

“Nothing,” I grin to myself, tossing back the rest of the drink. “Just a little self-motivation.”

“Care to share?” he asks wryly. “Because we have less than five minutes to make something happen out there, or nobody’s taking home the damn title.”

“Could be worse,” I shrug my shoulders, although inside I’m ready for war. My nerves are stretched tight and ready to snap, but at the moment I manage to find some inner peace that’s holding me together. “We could be down a touchdown.”

“Don’t even say it,” he groans as we trot out to take our places for what’s possibly the last possession of the game. I make the audible directed at me, exchanging an intense glance with the center.

Snap. Pocket. Throw!

The receiver bolts forward, all but jumping over the diving defenders as he rushes for the first down mark. When he makes it, a whoosh of breath escapes my throat as the crowd cheers and the band plays a triumphant melody.

The next play, we’re brought down a yard short of making first down. The next pass is incomplete, stopping the clock at under a minute as sweat begins to pour down my back. This is it. I’ve got to somehow make something happen out here, something amazing.

Liz’s face swims into my vision, her smile as she gazes at me through those velvety brown eyes thick with love. Her lips part and she whispers, “Something amazing, Max.”

Superman.

I yell out to the center, wiggling my fingers as a strange energy courses through me. This is it. This moment…something amazing can happen. “Hut hut!”

As if in slow motion, the ball arcs between the center’s legs, coming up to land in my arms as I step backwards. I look left, right, desperately trying to ignore the flashes of red nearing my vision. I search for an open receiver, but red jersies are everywhere.

My hearing dims to the thick beat of my heart and I blink, sweat stinging my lids as my heavy breath echoes within my helmet. In a last ditch effort, I look all around. No one’s open.

I see Coach Saban jumping up and down on the sidelines, but I can’t hear his words. I can’t hear anything. I glance up at the clock. Forty-five seconds. We’re on the thirty yard-line.

The thought explodes in my mind in a whirlwind of realization, nearly making me stagger as I think, Of course. I tuck the ball to my chest, catching sight of an opening to my right. Inhaling sharply, I offer up a quick prayer before sprinting forward through the miniscule gap. The second the other team realizes my intent, they’re on top of me, breathing down my neck.

I’m steps ahead of the red wave, staring ahead as the endzone looms before me. The twenty. The ten. Ten more yards…

The feel of a shoulder clipping into my side causes me to stagger, a grunt spilling forth as I stumble over my feet. I hurl myself forward, feeling my balance fade as the earth comes up to meet me. I hit the ground with a thud, stretching as far as I can as the opposing player moves to finish the tackle.

The sound of the end of game horn blows at the exact second a collective inhalation goes up in the crowd. I force my gaze up from the ground, following my outstretched arms…to see the ball cradled in my hands, set down just after the white line.

The uniformed official raises his hands up in the touchdown symbol and the crowd explodes into a deafening cheer as arms begin pulling me up, hands slapping my butt and shouts being thrown in my face. I barely comprehend the jubilant expressions on my teammates faces as they rush the field. I’m lifted onto several shoulders and paraded around as the sound of the LSU fight song goes up in the air.

I swear I could feel the ground quake.

Reporters throw out questions, cameras flash as a tall, sandy-haired man approaches me with an outstretched hand. “Good game, son,” he yells over the roar. “I’d like to keep in touch with you, I believe we have an agreement for you to consider.”

I manage to nod, looking down at the card he presses into my hand. All I see is the name New Orleans Saints Athletic Department. “Oh God,” I mumble, feeling faint as I look back up to recognize my congratulator as a talent scout for the NFL.

“Evans! Max Evans!” a pretty female rushes forward, a crew of television cameras trailing her that bear the ESPN symbol. She reaches my side, a delighted expression on her face.

“Well, Mr. Evans,” the reporter exclaims loudly to be heard over the triumphant roar of the crowd. “Cindy Williams, ESPN Sports Network. You’ve just won your first Sugar Bowl… and will undoubtably have the draft of your choice. What do you plan to do next?” She thrusts the mike in my face, an expectant expression on her face.

I open my mouth to respond with the usual Disneyland quip. “I… I want…”

Cameras are flashing, the crowd is cheering, and my mind is spinning with so many emotions, I can barely recognize myself. But the most prominent one of all has me opening my mouth and blurting, “I want to marry Liz Parker!”

Just my luck, my microphone has been patched over the main speaker system, so the entire stadium is privy to my emotional outburst. The cheers trail off as people begin murmuring in confusion, but I can only stare at the television camera and the slightly puzzled expression on the blonde reporter’s face.

I imagine that I hear the vague shout of, “Go get her, Max!” that suspiciously sounds like Kyle’s voice, but I know it’s impossible over the thousands of fans packed inside the stadium. I imagine coming home every day to see Liz there waiting for me, that adoring smile on her face, making love with her every night. Dark-headed children running around.

Then a smile spreads across my face, and I let out a whoop, dropping my helmet to the ground and throwing my hands in the air. “I love you, Liz! Marry me!”

The scoreboard zooms in on my face, the words Marry Me, Liz! glowing beneath my profile as I stare into the cameras expectantly. I know if she’s watching, I’ll receive my answer soon.

So I wait.

[Deejonaise]

Okay, stopping by again to say thanks to everyone who read and followed this fic. It seemed to go by a lot quicker than it should have, and we've been feeling pretty emotional about it ending. Therefore...

We decided to write a sequel.

But before everyone starts asking questions, the next installment in our Superhero Universe takes place eight years in the future...and centers on the life and love of Cameron Evans.

You can find Cameron's fic posted here.

Hope to see you all there, and until next we meet...thank you again.

hugs, Lindsay and Dee


<center>Chapter 50</center>

~Liz~

I’m so thrilled, so frazzled that I go into an immediate attack right after Max’s proposal and freak my parents out so bad that they’re seconds away from calling the paramedics. First I’m screaming and then I’m…wheezing and gasping for breath. The breath gets caught in my chest and all I can think over and over is, I’m getting fucking married!

“Liz, for the love of God! Calm down! You need to breathe!” Dad glances over at my mother, on the verge of panic. “Nancy, do something!”

He shakes me slightly as my mother smooshes my cheeks between her hands and forces my darting eyes to hers. “Lizzie, match my breathing, baby,” she soothes calmly, “See how I’m doing?” She inhales deep, exhales deep. “Do what I do.”

I make a concerted effort to do what she asks and it helps to ease the burn in my chest, but my heart continues to pound with excitement. “I…I…” I gasp out, “I…need…”

“Don’t try to talk, Lizzie,” Dad advises worriedly, “Just calm down. Do what your mother says…slow your breathing…”

“I…I…n-need…” I press on stubbornly, hyperventilating episode be damned.

“Dammit, Liz! Calm down!” Dad barks in worried annoyance.

I turn pleading eyes towards my mother. “I…I…ne…ed…”

“What is it?” Mom indulges, “What do you need, baby?”

“My…my…suit…case…” I gasp out finally.

They fall away from me with dubious grunts. But, my God, what else did they expect me to say? Why the hell do they think I’m hyperventilating? Max just proposed to me on national television! Um…hello? I’m on the next plane to New Orleans. Period.

“I’ve…got to get…packed.”

When my breathing starts to even out finally, I stumble from my chair and stagger off for my bedroom, a plan half formed in my mind. I’ve got like a million calls to make and so many arrangements… I’m mentally going over the list when Mom and Dad materialize in my bedroom door. I hardly acknowledge them but continue to mutter to myself.

“Liz, shouldn’t you think about this first?” Mom queries mildly.

I toss a glance over my shoulder as I randomly pitch clothing into my suitcase. “What’s to think about?” I demand, “Max just asked me to marry him. I’m saying yes.” Before I return to my packing I witness the uncertain stare traded between my parents and I ignore it. I’m determined not to let them bring me down.

“Honey,” Mom begins tentatively, “It’s possible you’re caught up in the romance of the moment. I’m sure you’re not thinking clearly—,”

“Mom, Max proposed,” I say again in abrupt interruption, “I’m going to New Orleans.”

“What about London?” Dad demands, “You’re supposed to leave again in another two weeks. Don’t you think an engagement will just add to the strain?”

I snap my suitcase shut with a definitive click. “I’m not going back to London,” I decide, lurching around to search for the phone, “I have to call the University…get my credits transferred and book a flight…I need a room for when I get there…”

“What do you mean you’re not going back?” Dad explodes softly, “Since when?”

Grunting an exasperated sigh, I pivot to face them both. “What is it that you two aren’t getting here?” I demand somewhat rudely, “You were sitting right there. You saw it! Max wants to marry me! Why are you still talking to me about London?”

Before they can answer my telephone rings to life. I snatch it up; hoping wildly that it’s Max on the other end even when I know the possibility is remote. He’s probably partying it up with his teammates still, which is exactly as it should be. My baby was on fucking fire out there!

The moment I say hello Maria squeals into my ear, “Oooh girl, I know you were watching! Sooo…”

It’s nice to have someone genuinely excited for me and her enthusiasm helps to dispel much of the gloominess my folks have brought with them. I grin, half turning away from my parents as I reply. “Yes, I was watching,” I laugh deliberately, “Wasn’t he just spectacular in the second half? Did you see him run the ball? He was fabulous!”

“I’m not talking about that!” Maria screeches, “Although he was great but… Liz, Max just asked you to marry him on national television! Oh my God! It was so romantic. I couldn’t believe it! Did you know he was going to do that?”

I’m surprised my face doesn’t split open I’m smiling so hard. “No. I shaking right now, Maria,” I whisper, “Literally shaking.”

“So what are you going to say?” she whispers.

“What do you think?”

She squeals again. “Ohmygod! I’m coming over there right now.”

“Good,” I tell her, “I’m going to need someone to drive me to the airport.” I’m looking directly at my parents as I make the last of that statement. “Be here in fifteen,” I tell Maria. After I hang up the phone with her I address my parents. “She’ll be here soon. I have to book a flight and talk to the Registrar’s office before she gets here.”

“Liz, please think about this,” Mom implores again, “Right now you’re letting your emotions rule you… This is your future we’re talking about here. Yes, Max proposed to you but that doesn’t mean you have to drop everything and run to his side. If he loves you as much as he claims he can wait until after you return from London. It’s only a few more months.”

“See that’s just it, Mom,” I reply softly, as I stoop to pull a second suitcase from beneath my bed, “Everyone always says that if it’s real love then it can wait but I wonder…if it's real love why would you make it wait?”

They watch me in round-eyed silence and, satisfied I have captured their attention, I continue on softly, “Love is such a precious and rare gift. People are fortunate when they find it because not everyone does. That's why you have to grab on with both hands and hold on tight. I'm not waiting anymore, Mom and Dad. Love deserves better. Max deserves better and so do I.

“If you can’t support me then…” I trail off, regarding them sadly, “I’m sorry. I’m doing this, whether you approve or not, but it would be much better if I had your blessing.”

My dad is the one who actually steps forward and that surprises me because, of the two, he’s the one who’s had the hardest time letting go. “We’ll get you whatever you need, Lizzie,” he whispers, hugging me close, “Let your mom and I take care of the details. You concentrate on getting packed so you can get to Max.”

I rear back in his arms to stare at him through tear-brightened eyes. “Do you really mean that, Dad?”

“You’re my little girl,” he says simply, “When have I ever been able to deny you anything?”

<center>***</center>

I don’t make it to the airport for another two hours. Once there, Maria and I share a tearful goodbye, hugging and blubbering in the middle of the terminal. We get a few odd stares but the passersby generally ignore us as we carry on. Alex just looks on with a sheepish smile, tugging at his shirt collar.

“It’s not like you won’t see me again,” I tell my sniffling friend, sniffling myself, “We’ll be back for the summer. Just because Max and I are getting married doesn’t mean things will have to change.”

“But they are going to change,” Maria blubbers into my shoulder, “I won’t be able to sleep over the way I used to and we won’t hang like before. Cuz you and Max will be even more joined at the hip than you are now and you’ll have wifey duties…” she concludes on a wail.

“I don’t even know what those are,” I wail in return.

“Hey, can you drama queens break it up long enough for me to get a hug?” Alex grunts, elbowing in between us. But his blue eyes are suspiciously misted when he pulls me into his embrace.

“Who would have thought in a million years I’d see the day when Max Evans proposed to you, Parker?” he murmurs in wonder.

“Kinda like Isabel Evans calling you her boyfriend,” I tease in return.

“Exactly,” Alex laughs, “I’m happy for you, Liz.”

“Me, too,” I choke, feeling my tears rise again, “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Okay, enough with the lovey-dovey,” Alex declares gruffly, shrugging out of my arms, “You’ve got a plane to catch.”

“So do you have everything,” Maria clucks, swiping at her wet cheeks with as much dignity as she can manage.

“I’ve got Max’s room number, the number to the hotel in New Orleans, plenty of cash, my parents are transferring my credits as we speak…” I recite breathlessly, “I think I’m good to go.”

“Oh, just hurry up and get on the plane,” Maria tells me tearfully, “I just hate long, drawn out goodbyes.”

“Why are we saying goodbye?” I ask her suddenly, my eyes widening with sudden epiphany, “Come with me, Maria!” I glance over at Alex. “You, too!”

“Parker, what are you smoking?” Alex laughs.

“No way, Liz!” Maria balks, “I can’t…I mean…”

“Michael’s going to be there,” I wheedle shamelessly, “And Isabel, too. Are you two really going to pass up the chance to be with your other halfs?” I know I’ve won even before the answering grins spread across their faces.

“Just so you know…” Alex says as we head back over to the ticket counter, “I hold you completely responsible for my skyrocketing credit card debt…”

<center>***</center>

I watch him click his cell phone closed with a frustrated grunt. Maria and Alex have since met up with Michael and Isabel while Tess, Kyle and Max sit alone at the bar. Nearly everyone knows I’m here by now…everyone but Max.

“Jesus,” he mutters, “Where the fuck is she? She’s not answering her cell. Her home line is busy…”

“Max, just chill, dude,” Kyle soothes him, biting back his knowing grin as he meets my eyes across the distance.

“Maybe she didn’t even see it,” Max laments nervously, “Or maybe she did and she totally freaked. Maybe she doesn’t want to marry me at all.”

“Or maybe…” I counter slowly, stepping out from the shadows, “…she wanted to give you your answer in person.”

Joy zings through my chest as I watch the expression of pure, unconcealed delight lift his beautiful features. He stares at me for an enraptured moment before whipping around to scowl at his friends. “You fucking assholes,” he accuses softly, “You knew she was here the entire time, didn’t you?”

Kyle just whistles in feigned innocence, looping his arm around Tess. “I’m gonna go spend some quality time with my woman,” he says, “You do the same.” He offers Max and me a mock salute before ambling off with a giggling Tess at his side.

When Max and I face one another again it’s with a distance of about three feet between us. We don’t get any closer. The moment is so profound I think we’re both afraid to move, afraid to break it.

“I saw you play,” I whisper softly.

“What did you think?” he whispers back with equal softness.

“I’ve never seen anything so perfect, Max,” I gush emotionally, “I…I could have never asked you to give it up. You were magnificent out there today.”

“They’re talking about drafting me…”

“Really?”

He ducks his head in sheepish discomfiture. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“Yeah?”

“Hmm…” A momentary silence spans between us. He tugs self-consciously at his ear while I nibble my lip. “So did you…um…did you see the end…?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“Yes,” I repeat with soft emphasis, “Yes, I’ll marry you.” He moves so quickly it’s like a blur when he comes off the stool. His arms come around me with such force that I’m knocked breathless for a second. “Did you think it was going to be anything else?” I ask when we come up from our kiss and he buries his face in my shoulder, hugging me tighter. I can feel his hot tears leaking into my neck, but it’s okay because I’m blubbering like a fool, too.

“Well, when I couldn’t get you at home or on your cell and I couldn’t find Maria…” he recounts thickly, “I didn’t know what to think…”

I cradle his face in my hands, placing sweet kisses all over his face. “Well…I wanted to surprise you…” I smile.

He nuzzles against me. “You’re getting good at that, Parker,” he commends gruffly.

“You’re going to have to find a new pet name for me soon,” I whisper fervently, coasting my mouth over his in a teasing kiss, “My name will be Evans before you know it.”

“Music to my ears,” he laughs. But before he can deepen his kiss, Cam’s voice suddenly rings out somewhere in front of us.

“Sooo?” he demands impatiently, “What did she say?”

We turn around and have to stifle our laughter because all of our friends and his family have congregated just a few feet away from us, evidently as eager for our answer as Cam. Max rolls his eyes over their shamelessness. “Oh, what do you think she said?” he laughs dryly, “She said, YES!”

Their answering cheers are practically deafening.

<center>***</center>

“So what were you thinking about when you were out there?” I murmur into his naked chest later when we’re alone in his suite, “Were you scared at all?”

He shifts me so that I lie completely flush over his body and shakes his head. “I wasn’t scared,” he murmurs, caressing back my hair and then drifting his hands down the slope of my back. Everywhere he touches, I tingle. I wonder if it will always be like this between us…even when we’re old and gray.

“The only thing going through my mind right then was you,” Max tells me, “I couldn’t hear the crowd…I couldn’t hear the linemen behind me… It was like you were right there with me, cheering me on. I knew I could do anything.”

“I should have been there, too,” I mumble guiltily, burying my face in his chance, “This was probably one of the biggest days of your football career and I wasn’t here to support you. I’m sorry, Max. I’ll never miss another one.”

He cups my face and leans up to brush a tender kiss across my lips. “Shh…you’re here now, baby. And I understand why you stayed behind. I don’t resent you. You’re in my arms at this very second…that’s all that matters to me.” His hands curve over my thighs, nudging them apart so he can find my center with the tip of his erection.

“Max…I love you so much…” I sigh as he enters me.

“I love you,” he moans, lifting his hips into mine in sensual circles. We rock together, our soft moans filling the air.

In that moment when we’re so in tuned with one another we feel like one person, I know what bliss truly feels like. It’s sublime…like floating on a cloud where no one and nothing can touch you. That untouchable feeling as well as the pleasure of having him inside me even while the grinding without stimulates my aching clitoris is all I need to spur the first contractions of my orgasm. Max hisses my name in the darkness, anchoring my thighs as he thrust up high and hard and explodes.

“So how do you feel?” he asks when I lay against him panting and crying and smiling all at once.

“Like I could conquer the world,” I whisper.

And every inch a teenaged superhero.

The End

[Applebylicious]

Hoo boy...this one's gonna be a biggie.



Most Creative Title
Most Passionate/Romantic Love Scene
Most Memorable Scene
Most Memorable Line
Best Lead Portrayal of Liz Parker
Best Lead Portrayal of Max Evans
Best Supporting Portrayal of Michael Guerin
Best Supporting Portrayal of Kyle Valenti
Best Supporting Portrayal of Tess Harding
Best Original Character (Cameron Evans)
Best All-Around Fanfiction
Best Dreamer Fanfic
Best Alternate Universe - Without Aliens
Funniest Fanfic
Best Fluff Fic
Best Point-of-View Fanfiction
Best Combined Author Fic
Fic That Left You Bouncing in Your Seat for an Update

Whoa.

[Kath7]

bump