“No way. If I did, Berk might try to move Alexis into the spare room.”
“She’s up to something, isn’t she?”
“When isn’t she? But Berk will have to figure that out on his own.”
Coach Saunders pushed into the locker room and all the chatter quieted down.
I snapped straight, staring at him and trying to keep the daggers sheathed. Marisa had told me all about the cozy family scene she’d stumbled into when she confronted him. To think I’d thought he deserved another chance.
Pulling out the clipboard, he stared down at it. “Change up to the starting line-up today. Lewis is swapped in for the start. Everything else stays the same.” He didn’t spare me a glance. “We’re out there in ten.”
Air forced its way out of my lungs and I couldn’t draw any back in. I was starting. Starting for the first time in twenty-four games.
The coaching staff followed him into the PT and recovery room off the main locker room.
A hit nearly knocked me off my feet, but I didn’t slam into the floor. Instead, I was smashed into a set of jersey covered pads. “You’re starting.” Berk bellowed, nearly taking out my ear drum.
“I won’t be if I’m deaf and can’t hear the plays.” But my grin flashed like a winning scoreboard.
Berk dropped his head and glanced over his shoulder. “I’m glad Coach finally got his head out of his ass.”
“That makes two of us.”
We rushed down the tunnel, the chill from the late November air biting even harder as we came out of the overheated locker room in full pads. The second string guys jogged up and down the sidelines to keep warm. The rest of us knew we’d be hot soon enough.
The fog of our breath drifted into the air and commingled into a Fulton U fog. Heat cannons were cranked on, but out of their narrow field of reach, the cold snapped against my skin.
Our QB ran out to the center of the field for the coin toss. The thundering boom of the crowd reverberated through to my bones.
The ref made the call, and the defense was up first.
Rushing out onto the field, I closed my eyes, knowing my spot without needing to see it. We wouldn’t need to come from behind this game. We wouldn’t cut the final score close to the end of the last quarter. We’d win and I’d show everyone by just how much with me here to stop every play coming my way.
Pacing behind the linemen, I found my target and ran through the hours of tapes we’d watched to dissect the opposing team. My goal was simple. Don’t let anyone past me.
Impede. Interrupt. Intercept.
The ball snapped and everything moved in slow motion. Gaps developed and I exploited them ruthlessly, knowing every minute I was out here was one more minute closer to winning the game. Every blocked inch put the offense in a better position. Every breath was one closer to going pro.
Home games meant home parties. This one was a bone-rattling, ear-ringing, adrenaline-revving party where we were seconds from being lifted off our feet and carried around the house.
At least we hadn’t had to supply the booze. Kegs were rolled in without anyone even asking, and the music from speakers we didn’t own rumbled the floorboards beneath our feet.
Some of the underclassmen were in the house, and I’d tap them tomorrow to clean this up after inviting themselves over.
For right now, though, I basked in the near-shut-out post-game vibes. This was a post-game party where I’d been on the field for every defensive play. This time, Marisa laughed in the kitchen talking with Jules until Berk joined them.
But now they’d both disappeared, probably making out somewhere. He’d been cagey lately, since the Dough Ho situation with Jules. Someone had found the dirty notes he and Jules had been anonymously sharing. Well, Jules had been anonymous. Berk had been going crazy trying to figure out who was sending them, and, lo and behold, it was our sweet as pie, curvy, quiet neighbor across the street. Someone had discovered these notes and somehow linked them to Jules. Someone had posted them online during Jules’s online baking show, which led to an unfair shitstorm of assholes tearing her apart online. So someone was a total asshole who Marisa had said needed her ass kicked.
Berk refused to see reason when it came to Alexis. Who was I to lecture him on anything like that?
Marisa had been right in front of my face for forever, but I’d fought against my feelings. Right now, I wanted to rush over to her, throw her over my shoulder, and find a nice quiet spot to make some noise. She’d probably punch me in the solar plexus and glare if I did.
It had been my idea to keep things quiet for my own selfish reasons, but now I wanted to shout about her from the rooftops, and I couldn’t.
Marisa didn’t want to bring down the accusations and behind-our-back whispers about why I was playing now. People might link her and her dad as the reason, and overshadow my hard work. I’d been the one who suggested we keep things quiet, so that was my big idea biting me in the ass.
With twenty high-fives and ten recreations of my game-winning interception, I inched forward through the party. Finally getting the recognition for all my hard work felt good. Not only was I seeing it on the scoreboard, but people were grabbing onto me and freaking out, giving me a play-by-play of moves I’d literally done. Their excitement was infectious. I’d missed it after riding the bench for so long. Hopefully, I’d get even more of it next year.
Every few feet, I’d raise my head and catch Marisa’s eye.
Even though I couldn’t hear her laugh from where I was, I saw it, and it had been ingrained in my brain. She’d give me shit all night about soaking up all the fan attention.
Fifteen minutes later, I finally made it to her side.
Her eyes lit up and she served up an ice-cream-sundae smile for me. “Been enjoying all your adoring fans?”
“They’re okay.” I shrugged.
“You’re so full of it. You love every second of it.” She preened and put on a queen wave, pivoting at the waist with her elbow bent and only her hand moving.
“I do not.”
A guy slammed into my back, knocking me into Marisa and bringing our lips inches apart.
Her eyes widened.
I couldn’t tell if it was with worry or desire. The temptation rode me hard to close the gap and finally show everyone how close we truly were. Before I could make a decision, it was made for me. My arm was jerked back and I was turned around.
I reached out for her waist to steady her, but she jumped back.
“The floor is slippery.” She dropped her gaze, looking around at the empty, dry floor.
A beer was shoved into my hand, amber liquid sloshing over the edge of the rim. “The interception was insane. I had to get you a drink. One more game and we’re going to the playoffs again.”
“Thanks.” I drank my beer and watched her out of the corner of my eye.
I got a look here and there, but never too long. It was like she didn’t even want people to know we were friends, let alone more than that. We hadn’t even put a label on what the ‘more than that’ was.
“Beer pong. We’re up!” Marisa tapped the back of her hand against my chest. “Let’s show them how it’s done.” She downed her drink and marched out to the back yard without a coat on, even though there were still small sad, gravel colored patches of snow on the ground from our freak pre-Halloween storm.