God Of football

Chapter 719: Hori Del Rey.

A couple of hours later, Collie eased the car into one of the sun-drenched VIP slots, rolling down the window as the staff waved them through.

A sigh of relief slipped out of her as she pulled the handbrake.

”Good thing we had this pass,” she muttered, pulling the laminated tag from the dash and flicking it with a finger.

”Otherwise, we’d still be out there circling for half an hour. Maybe more.”

The others murmured agreement, opening the doors as the heat and the faint dust of Indio’s desert air met them.

Hori stretched both arms above her head as she stepped out, rolling her shoulders like she’d just shaken off a cramped nap.

”Feels like we’ve been sitting forever,” she said with a grin.

Olivia didn’t waste time.

She popped her bag open, rummaged briefly, and pulled out a plain black mask.

She handed it toward Izan with that look—half fond, half serious—that told him it wasn’t really optional.

”Keep this on,” she said firmly. ”Last time, you were way too casual. Let’s not make the same mistake again.”

Hori backed her instantly. ”Yeah, listen to her. Don’t make me spend half the night explaining to random strangers why Arsenal’s next big star is wandering around a country festival without even trying to hide.”

Izan groaned lightly but slipped the mask over his face anyway.

It wasn’t that he disagreed—he just hated the feeling of cloth against his mouth and the constant air shortage that came with it.

They joined the small stream of people funnelling toward the VIP section, a tucked-aside space set apart from the full backstage but close enough to feel the vibration of the speakers warming up.

Security guided them toward the barrier line where VIPs stood in front of the swelling general crowd.

The space had breathing room, but the anticipation thickened the air.

By the time the show ramped up, the sun had sunk low enough to paint the desert sky with that dusty orange-pink glow.

Zach Bryan’s set opened with raspy acoustics, his voice carrying something raw that pulled cheers and whistles from the crowd before Jelly Roll followed, heavier beats rolling through the ground like a second pulse.

Luke Combs brought a wall of voices, the crowd belting choruses back at him until the whole place felt like one long southern night drive.

Even Nelly showed up, flashing back to hooks everyone seemed to know word for word, and the energy refused to drop until the Backstreet Boys appeared and added nostalgia that cut through generations, and Hori, eyes sparkling, bounced in place to nearly every song.

Olivia, steady with her phone raised, captured snippets of it all.

From the lights spilling like waterfalls to the crowd pressed tight together and Hori’s wide-eyed joy.

She wasn’t one to shout or lose herself in the music, but she had a way of preserving moments.

Izan stood a little off, mask tugged up, hands in his pockets.

He tapped his foot in time, a faint rhythm he couldn’t resist, but joining the craze wasn’t an option.

He knew too well one tug, one slip of fabric, and it’d be chaos.

Then Lana Del Rey appeared, the headliner, draped in ethereal light that made the desert night hush in anticipation.

Her presence wasn’t loud; it was haunting, almost fragile, and it drew the crowd inward instead of pushing them outward.

Halfway through her set, she paused, microphone tilted at her side, eyes scanning the masses.

She smiled faintly. ”You guys sound beautiful tonight,” she said, her voice soft but carrying.

”I should... maybe get someone up here. Sing with me. I always forget this one line.”

A ripple of excitement surged through the crowd as the camera sifted through dozens of hands that had shot up.

Phones raised high, people screaming her name like if they were loud enough, she’d see only them.

Her gaze passed across the VIP area and beyond, clearly searching for someone further back.

”I really wanna pick someone from the crowd,” she admitted with a small laugh.

”But you guys... you’re too far for me to see clearly.”

Still, the closer fans were impossible to ignore.

Hori’s arms flailed in the air, her voice sharp above the rest.

Beside her, another girl—draped in glitter and denim—was equally relentless, nearly in tears just from the chance.

Lana laughed again, almost helplessly.

”Okay, okay... You two. Both of you. Come on up.”

Hori shrieked, turning towards Izan before the stagehands helped her forward, guiding Hori and the other girl onto the stage.

The crowd roared approval, a sound that rolled like a wave across the open space.

Hori, wide-eyed and shaky at first, found her footing as the music swelled until Lana leaned toward her with a conspiratorial smile.

”I always blank on this verse. You’re gonna save me, alright?”

The mic was lowered, and Hori, surprisingly steady, sang.

At first, her voice was small, but adrenaline smoothed it, and the crowd’s cheers lifted it higher.

Lana harmonised with her, guiding the lines where needed, but letting the girl have her moment.

The other chosen fan fumbled more, giggling nervously, but it only added to the charm of the moment.

From below, Izan slipped his phone out and captured everything.

From Hori’s flushed cheeks to the way her voice grew stronger with every bar, the surreal pairing of her and Lana Del Rey under the desert night.

His mask itched, and when he tugged it down briefly for air, the cool rush was worth the risk.

He stayed uncovered longer than intended, lost in framing the shot, and that was when one of the organisers glanced down, recognition flashing, and a quick check of the VIP list confirmed it.

Izan Miura Hernández, the same name that had been whispered across LA just months before.

Preseason brilliance, NBA connections, and a young prodigy turned Arsenal’s jewel, coupled with that unforgettable look.

His face wasn’t just a face anymore; it was a brand rising fast.

The cameras panned casually over the VIP area, catching his bare features for a split second longer than coincidence.

On stage, Lana wrapped the duet with a graceful thank-you, hugging both girls lightly before they were led back down.

”You guys were perfect,” she said into the mic, genuine warmth cutting through her usual cool tone. ”I’ll never forget tonight.”

Hori stumbled back into their section, breathless, clutching her phone like it was a treasure.

”Did you see that? Did you get it? Please tell me you got it,” she begged Izan, still riding the adrenaline.

Izan only smirked, sliding his phone into his pocket.

”I got everything.”

Lana closed her set soon after, the desert stars sharp above as her last notes melted into the crowd’s applause.

.....

[VIP lot]

Hori stretched her arms above her head with a little groan as they stepped out of the backstage hallway into the brighter, less crowded exit corridor.

Her voice carried a faint trace of regret, casual but dramatic in tone.

”Shame,” she muttered, ”I would’ve loved to get a picture with Lana. Just one. Something to brag about.”

”What about the tons of videos we got?” Olivia asked but Hori said it wasn’t the same.

Izan shot her a sideways glance but didn’t bother answering while Olivia, walking just behind, smirked faintly at the remark.

Before the silence could stretch too long, Collie slowed her steps and turned back toward them, a small smile tugging at her lips.

She raised her phone, the screen glowing as she held it out for them to see.

”Actually, you might be in luck,” she said.

”One of the higher staff just texted me... they’re asking if Izan would like to check out the backstage properly.”

That caught Hori mid-step.

She spun around toward her brother, her expression already shifting, her eyes widening as she clasped her hands under her chin in mock innocence.

It was the kind of exaggerated cuteness she had mastered years ago, designed to leave Izan with no escape.

Izan stopped dead in his tracks, staring at her as though she’d committed some grave crime.

”Don’t even—” he began, but Hori tilted her head just so, lashes fluttering.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, dragging out his words with heavy sarcasm.

”Fine. Fine, whatever. Let’s go.”

That only encouraged her more.

She leaned closer, piling it on, lips curled into a pout so sweet it was almost weaponised.

”You’re the best brother ever,” she cooed.

Izan groaned loudly, clapping a hand to his stomach and doubling over in mock agony.

”Stop. You’re going to kill me with this cuteness thing. I can’t take it.”

He made an exaggerated gagging motion, pretending he was about to vomit.

Olivia laughed, shaking her head at the sibling dynamics between the two, while Collie tried to hide her grin behind her phone.

Hori ignored his theatrics entirely, spinning on her heel with a little victorious bounce in her step.

Together, they followed Collie down the short passage that led them deeper, past a plain door tucked in the corner where one of the staff with a lanyard badge scanned them briefly before ushering them through.