Page 64 of Big Girl Panties

The match continued, and I found myself getting more and more invested. When Matt executed what the announcer called a "devastating power slam," I cheered so loudly I'm pretty sure I damaged my vocal cords.

"Come on, Matt!" I shouted, forgetting that in the ring, he wasn't Matt. He was Mataio 'The Mountain' Strickland. "You've got this!"

The Viper had Matt in what looked like a painful submission hold, and I watched in horror as Matt's face contorted with the effort of breaking free. The crowd was on their feet, and I realized I was too, my hands pressed against the barrier, my heart hammering.

"That's your boyfriend?" the woman next to me asked, her voice full of sudden understanding.

"Oh, we're…" I started, but she was already grinning. She'd caught me off guard, and I didn't know what to say.

"Honey, you're glowing brighter than the ring lights. And he keeps looking over here like you're the only person in this entire arena."

She was right. Even in the middle of the match, Matt's eyes kept finding mine, and each time they did, I felt that same flutter in my chest that had been building for weeks.

The match reached its climax when Matt hoisted The Viper up for his signature move, and when he slammed him to the mat, I swore the entire arena floor vibrated. The crowd went wild, and I found myself screaming along with them. When the referee's hand slapped the mat for the third time, declaring Matt the winner, I felt like I might cry with relief and joy.

Matt's music hit again, and as he celebrated in the ring, his eyes immediately searched for mine. When he found me, that crooked smile spread across his face again, but this time it was softer, more intimate despite the thousands of people around us.

He ducked through the ropes and dropped to the ground, landing in the narrow space between the ring and the front row. Security started to move, but he waved them off, his eyes never leaving mine as he approached.

The crowd was going wild, phones were flashing, and the announcer was trying to figure out what was happening. But all I could see was Matt, sweaty, victorious, and walking toward me like I was the prize he'd been fighting for.

He stopped directly in front of me, and I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. His hands were shaking slightly as he reached up to cup my face, and in front of 25,000 people, Mataio' The Mountain' Strickland kissed me. Not one of those sweet, endearing kisses. This was a kiss that told the entire arena, and anyone watching at home, that I was his and he was mine. His lips were warm against mine, and I could taste the adrenaline and victory. The crowd's cheers faded into white noise as his thumb brushed across my cheek, and for a moment, it was just us.

When we finally broke apart, both breathing hard, the arena was in complete chaos. People were on their feet, phones were recording, and I'm pretty sure my face was being broadcast on the jumbotron.

Matt pressed his forehead against mine, his smile so bright it could have powered the entire arena. "So," his voice was rough with emotion, "want to get dinner?"

"Yes," I laughed, still dizzy from the kiss, the crowd, and the completely surreal nature of it all. "But maybe somewhere with fewer cameras?"

I looked around at the sea of faces, all of them beaming at us like we'd just provided the entertainment of the century. My wrestling-expert neighbor was dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, giving me a thumbs up.

I wasn't a center of attention type of girl, but I loved the way Matt made me feel. The way he made me forget all of my insecurities.

Security finally convinced Matt to head backstage, and I was escorted out through a side door leading backstage to avoid the frenzy, and I couldn't stop smiling.

As I stood backstage waiting for Matt to shower and change, I realized I was falling hard and fast for Matt, and it was both exciting and terrifying.

Chapter 26

When Fans Attack

As Brooke and I stepped out into the cool night air, I should have known what was waiting for us. The moment the doors opened, the crowd erupted again. Fans pressed against the metal barriers that had been set up to create a pathway to the parking area, holding up phones, programs, and anything else they could find for me to sign.

"Mataio! Mataio! Over here!"

"Can I get a picture?"

"Sign my shirt!"

I looked at Brooke, who nodded encouragingly. "Go ahead," she said. "They've been waiting."

I squeezed her hand before stepping toward the barrier. The energy was infectious – kids with wide eyes, teenagers clutching their phones, adults who looked just as excited as their children. I started working my way down the line, signing autographs and posing for selfies.

"You were amazing in there," a teenage girl said as I signed her blank paper. "I want to be a wrestler too."

"Keep training hard," I told her, meaning it. "And never give up."

Brooke stayed close but gave me space to interact with the fans. Every so often, I'd catch her eye and see her watching me with this soft expression that made my heart skip. She looked proud, maybe even a little amazed, like she was seeing me in a new light.