I'd only ever attended the annual Harvard-Yale football game.

I didn't derive any entertainment from watching guys tackle each other, do some standing around, and tackle each other again. I also didn't particularly like people who were obsessive about doing just that, but I always made an exception for the Harvard-Yale game. That game was more about rivalry and fueling Ivy League egos, so of course I had to take part in the shenanigans that unfolded as a result.

I'd assumed Harvard-Yale was the only football game I'd ever consider attending after I graduated, and yet I'd proved myself wrong by accepting Emelia's invitation to attend Notre Dame this weekend.

I credited the spiteful side of my personality for my decision. The comment Callie had made to me last week played on my mind a little more than I would've liked, and I decided that the best resolution was to be an active participant in what Emelia had promised would be a fun weekend activity.

Montana had also pitched my attendance as a necessary part of my Chicago experience, even though that experience was in South Bend, Indiana. He wasn't as persuasive as my spite was, but I appreciated him wanting me to come. He'd also offered to drive, which simplified the logistics.

The only difficulty I'd encountered so far was hauling myself out of bed at 7:00 on a Saturday morning to glam up for the day. After changing into my white tennis skirt and the cropped navy Notre Dame t-shirt that Emelia had lent to me, I swiped on a light amount of makeup that I wouldn't sweat off. Even so, I probably still looked like a sleep deprived zombie when Montana picked me up outside of my apartment building in his BMW 3 Series.

Despite having texted pretty regularly since exchanging numbers last weekend, it was then that I realized he fulfilled more of the stereotypes about guys our age who worked in the financial sector than he let on. He was, as my sister would say, a finance bro.

He also confirmed to me first-hand he was not a morning person.

"I'm not stopping again," he stated, gripping the steering wheel.

Jed shifted in his seat, ready to plead his case. "But Montana-"

"No," Montana snapped, sounding impressively father-like. "You should have gone when Em insisted on stopping for coffee 20 minutes ago."

"You wanted your precious Americano too, Montana," Emelia said, leaning forward to flick the back of his head.

"That's necessary life blood." Montana gestured to Jed's monstrous frappuccino in the center console. "But that is a gateway drug."

"Are you always this hostile in the morning?" I asked, balancing an elbow on the inside of the car door. I knew he couldn't see me in the rearview mirror.

Montana huffed out a breath. "Yes."

Emelia nudged my shin with the toe of her navy Converse. "Be grateful you never saw him at our 8:00 AM lecture for PO 210 State and Local Government and Politics."

"Oh, so that's why you didn't go into politics," I remarked.

"Right," Montana snorted. "It had nothing to do with the medicare pay and our hostile political climate."

I chuckled. "How did you know that was exactly what seduced my 18-year-old self?"

"Because he had to deal with me talking his ear off about it," Emelia chimed in before Montana could answer.

"Yeah, something like that," Montana said.

Silence temporarily settled in the vehicle, and a Dave Matthews song I didn't know by name fluttered from the speakers. The chorus had just ended when Jed groaned like a wounded animal.

"How much longer?" Jed asked.

"20 minutes, and that's how long you're going to wait because I'm not stopping," Montana replied forcefully.

I swear I felt the car accelerate and bit back a smile. 

Jed didn't let up. "But then you're going to have to park, and we have to walk-"

"Jesus fucking Christ okay." Montana flicked his turn signal on an absurd amount of force, which actually made me smile. The day was already off to a great start.

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I shut the passenger door after I promoted myself to the front of the car. The seat was still warm from Jed having sat in it for nearly two hours.

I side-eyed Montana as I buckled myself in and smoothed out my white tennis skirt. "I would've felt like a child in the backseat."

"And I felt like a chauffeur," he chuckled, keeping his eyes forward as he started circling the parking lot for an open space like a vulture. "So we're even."

We'd just dropped off Jed and Emelia near the stadium so they could meet up with their respective former teammates, who were allegedly securing the best location to tailgate. Montana had insisted we'd find a parking spot near the university bookstore, which he'd touted as a well-kept secret.

It was, in fact, not a well-kept secret.

Even though it was still five hours before kick-off, we weren't the only out-of-towners who had the bright idea of getting to South Bend early. Whatever tailgating shenanigans Emelia and Jed were seeking out near the stadium had infiltrated this lot as well.

And Montana was not happy.

"I don't get it." He smacked the steering wheel with his open palm. "It's an unspoken rule among the alumni. This lot is for us."

"Consider the rule broken," I said as I scanned the lot, deciding this wasn't worth our time. "Let's go elsewhere."

"Look at this, these freshmen are taking up a whole extra spot." He threw his hand out the window, gesturing to a gaggle of students in gold and green. "I should run them over."

"There's no need to resort to vehicular manslaughter." I rolled my eyes at his apparent theatrics, but then noted the pulsing of his jaw. His frustration was sincere, but I figured subtle flattery might help restore equilibrium. "You probably know this campus like the back of your hand. You definitely know another place to park."

He huffed out a resigned sigh. "I do. But it's kind of far."

"I don't mind the walk, especially if I have to sit through the entire game."

"You sound like you're about to be tortured."

"Not as tortured as you three if your Fighting Irish lose."

"Okay, fair point."

Montana maneuvered the car out of the traitorous parking lot, and we ended up somewhere near the baseball field. Gravel crunched beneath my trainers as I marched over to the open trunk, where Montana was shouldering the backpack cooler he'd brought.

"Now that was relatively painless, wasn't it?"

"My blood pressure will go down eventually. This is where we parked for practice and home games, so it's pretty much just for the baseball team."

"I should've assumed you were also an athlete. No way would the other two befriend some finance nerd otherwise."

Montana caught onto my teasing tone, and surrendered a smile. "Well, I do hold the single-season RBI record, so I guess that's where my allure came from."

"Do you miss it?"

"Miss what?"

"College."

"Yes and no. Things were simpler."

"They were, weren't they?" I smiled to myself. "Aside from coursework, my biggest drama was figuring out where I would intern each summer."

"Right," Montana snorted. "I don't miss any of the ridiculously dull accounting classes that I had to take. I do miss baseball though. My dad would come to every home game and sit right over there –" He pointed towards a vague area of navy seats behind home plate. "– so I could hear him when I was at bat. Back then it annoyed me, but he knew his shit."

I thought back to the game at Wrigley Field last weekend and imagined Montana going there as a kid with his dad, just like I had with mine.

"Is he a Cubs fan too?"

"He was."

I nearly faltered, but managed to maintain my composure as I instantaneously deciphered the implications of Montana's use of the past tense. I wouldn't inquire for any details, knowing now wasn't the time or place. I also wasn't sure if I was even someone who necessarily needed to know those details.

As we neared the stadium, the crowd composed of green, gold, and navy effortlessly absorbed us. I had to walk closer to Montana to ensure I didn't get whisked away. While my phone was still relatively well charged, tracking someone down would be a challenge as everyone seemed to blend together. I'd lost one too many friends in the crowds of Lollapalooza to take this lightly.

I snatched one of the straps dangling from Montana's backpack, and was about to defend my actions, when someone else called out to him.

"Montana Bennett! My roommate!" Jed bellowed, seemingly materializing from the throngs of Fighting Irish fans.

I slid my gaze towards Montana to catch whatever expression he wore, only to find that he was already looking at me. One corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smile.

"What a dingus." He shook his head with a chuckle.

I twirled the strap around my finger as I slid him a grin. "Yeah, thank god you rescued me from that date."

"That's me. Your knight in shining armor."

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from sar [ w1ldflow3r ]: absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?? regardless, our pretentious speechwriter is back and thinks she's ready for a quintessential collegiate tailgate. hope you're ready for some shenanigans x