The referee blows a whistle, and offense and defense clash. Guys are grunting, cusses flying everywhere, as everybody tries to keep the dominance to their team.
I keep my eyes on their quarterback as he pulls into the pocket, the ball falling into his hands, trusting Miguel to hold the line. The quarterback holds the ball for a second before he lets it fly safely into the hands of his receiver, who quickly slips past Nico, and almost past me, but I catch him at the last second, pulling him to the ground.
The crowd cheers as one of my teammates offers me his hand and pulls me up.
A grin spreads over my lips.
It’s good to be back.
Chapter Eleven
KATHERINE
“C’mon, we’re late!” Becky yells as she walks around the hood of her Jeep to the passenger side before I can even get out.
“How can you be late for a party?”
I have to admit, Becky’s excitement is infectious, and even I’m not immune to it. She’s been like that all evening, jumping and cheering like her life depends on it. I’m surprised she can talk considering the amount of screaming she did—to cheer the guys on, to trash talk the rival team, or complain about the call a referee made. The girl knows her football, and she isn’t afraid to show it.
Becky loops her arm through mine and starts pulling me toward the fire beckoning us from the clearing. She’s like a kid on a sugar rush, overly excited and hyped up.
Shaking my head, I thank God for my trusty pair of red chucks. Keeping up with Becky would be impossible in anything else.
“Everybody else is already here.”
“Maybe they’re just here early,” I point out.
She gives me an unamused look. “Yeah, or maybe we’re actually late.”
“It’s all in the eyes of onlookers, Becs. Besides, do I need to remind you that you wanted to stop by your house before coming here?”
“Yeah, yeah.” She rolls her eyes. “Don’t remind me. Let’s go find the guys. I’m sure even they are here somewhere by now.”
We walk between different cars and trucks parked all around and come out on the clearing. A big fire is built in the middle of it, illuminating the darkness of the evening. Somebody brought huge speakers, and country music is blasting at max. A few people are dancing, others sitting in the beds of trucks parked around the bonfire, chatting and drinking.
Before I can take it all in, Becky squeals loudly and lets go of my hand. I turn around to search for what might have caused her reaction, just as she jumps at both Emmett and Miguel, wrapping her arms around their shoulders and pulling them in for a group hug. Since they’re both taller than her, her legs hang in the air.
She looks like a cute little monkey.
“You did it! One down, nine more to go!”
Miguel laughs. “It’s just the first game, anything can happen.”
“It’s the first game that you won this season,” Becky points out. Letting go, she jumps back to the ground and jabs her finger into his chest as if to accentuate her point. “That’s the difference. I’m telling you, I can feel it. This is our season.”
“Well, if you say so.” Emmett ruffles her hair.
My heart squeezes a little, just standing here and watching them interact. I’m not sure what to make of the three of them. The love and friendship they share are so obvious; it hurts a little to watch.
As if he can feel my eyes on him, Emmett lifts his head, his gaze landing on mine. My tongue darts out, sliding over my lower lip. Nervousness creeps in as his sole attention is on me. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, pushing a strand of my hair behind my ear and feeling self-conscious at being caught watching them.
“Hey,” I say, lifting my hand in an awkward wave.
“Hi.” Emmett’s grin widens as he looks at me. His voice seems deeper, making the goosebumps rise on my skin. We stare at each other for a while. I wait for him to say something, anything, but he stays silent, just looking.
Becky and Miguel are still talking, probably discussing the game, and completely ignoring us. We’re not alone, not in the least, but in a way, it feels like we are.
Emmett moves closer.
He must have taken a shower after the game because he smells fresh and citrusy. His purple football jersey clings to his shoulders like it was made for him. I wonder, how many of those he has? Probably a dozen, at least.
“Congrats on your win,” I say awkwardly, the first one to break the silence.
“Thanks.” Emmett lifts his eyebrow at me. “What? No tackling to the ground?” He points behind his back at Becky, who’s standing next to Miguel, his arm casually thrown over her shoulder. “I figured that was your doing.”
“My doing? How would it be my doing? She’s your best friend.”
“Your doing because you specialize in bringing people to the ground.”
“For God’s sake, how many times will I have to say…”
“Just kidding, Kitty.” Emmett puts his hands on my shoulders, effectively shutting me up. He’s so close I have to tilt my head back to look at him. “No need to bring out the claws.”
Emmett’s looking at me so intently; it’s getting hard to think. I suck in a shaky breath, reminding myself I need to breathe if I don’t want to embarrass myself further by passing out. But it’s so hard to act normal when he’s standing so close to me.
I’m wearing a tank top so I can feel Emmett’s warm skin touching mine. I can smell his cologne or shampoo or whatever the hell he put on after the shower with every breath I take, intoxicating me.
A shiver runs down my spine, making the faint hairs at the back of my neck rise and my skin pebble.
“Cold?” Emmett asks.
It’s unnerving, the way he notices things. The way he notices me. I don’t think anybody’s ever noticed me as much as he does.
His big palm rubs over my upper arm, warming me up.
I shake my head no. Definitely not cold. More like burning from the inside out.
Get a grip, Kate.
I look around, needing to find something else to concentrate on. Something that’s not Emmett Santiago. Or his big, warm hands. And definitely not his thumb that’s sliding over my skin in slow circles.
Biting the inside of my cheek, my attention returns over his shoulder, back to Becky and Miguel.
“They seem to have made up.”
Emmett peeks over his shoulder and then shrugs. “That’s Becky and Miguel for you.”
“Have they always been like that?”
I find their dynamic curious. In groups of three, there almost always seems to be one odd person out. For some reason, it’s usually even worse when it’s a mixed group. Two guys and a girl? It has love triangle written all over it. Not that they give off that vibe. It’s pretty obvious to anybody looking that there is nothing more than sibling love happening between Emmett and Becky. Miguel and Becky, on the other hand…
“More or less. They drive each other crazy, but they can’t stay mad at each other for long either.”
“Hmm…”
They’re definitely not driving each other crazy now. Becky’s cheeks are flushed, and she’s giggling at whatever Miguel is telling her.