by Zoey Shores
I realized that this semester of all semesters, this season of all seasons, having my mind consumed with romance was something that I just couldn’t afford.
I know that she has a lot riding on this semester just like I do, so it’s easy to understand that she feels the same way.
Next semester, after the playoffs, when I no longer have a game every week to focus on. I can revisit my thoughts about Heidi. I know in my heart that I want more with her than just friendship. And I think she feels the same way. But neither of us can afford to indulge in that this semester.
But I know I don’t want her to not be a part of my life again. We still have such a connection together. Such a deep reservoir of memories and feelings. I want to still see her regularly, talk with her regularly -- and not just as the subject of an interview for her newspaper article.
Unfortunately, I’m finally reaching this conclusion during my Physics 202 lecture. I sigh and look up at the blackboard. It’s densely covered with formulas, equations, derivations, vocabulary …
Shit. I’m gonna need to stay up late tonight, too, for a different reason. Cracking my books and trying to catch up on everything I missed in lectures today. My academics are just like football this year. These high-level math, science and engineering classes are like a three-hundred-fifty-pound jacked lineman just dying to get a sack on me. The moment I underestimate them is moment they’re going to knock me right on my ass.
The professor wraps up the lectures and I pack up my stuff, shaking my head at my distractedness today.
Still, I’m glad I got all these thoughts worked out. I’m feeling good. I’m prepared to be just friends with Heidi this semester. Next semester? Well, that’s a question for next semester. I know what my heart years for. But I can’t indulge those thoughts until the season and this course load are in the rearview mirror.
Right now, I need to keep my mind on the prize. Practice is tomorrow, and if anything else but football is taking up space in my head, I know it will reflect in my performance, and Coach will chew me out. I already know he’s gonna work us into the ground tomorrow.
Why? Because this Saturday is an easy game.
And Coach Riker doesn’t want us to ever slack off. Even if we’re facing an opponent that should be an easy win, he wants us always at our best, always sharp, always in a supremely competitive mindset.
Speaking of being sharp, I need to pick up an extra-large cup of coffee on the way home. I’m gonna be riding my desk into the early hours of the morning catching up on everything that went in one ear and out the other all day today.
When I step out of the campus coffee shop with my order, I hear someone call my name.
Heidi.
“Luke!” she waves to me while she picks up her pace and walks down the sidewalk that winds through the main campus green.
Her face wears a wide smile, but there’s a strong trace of hesitancy there as well. Stress is written on her face. It’s clear that she's spent all day worrying and overanalyzing everything that happened just like I have.
But seeing the cheery air she’s putting on -- almost forcing it -- puts me so much at ease. It’s like a weight’s lifted from my shoulders. If she didn’t want anything to do with me, she would have tried to avoid me. Or at least not called out to me from across campus.
The friendly chat we have as we walk off campus is clearly putting us both at ease. We don’t mention the kiss, though it hangs heavy over our heads. It’s funny. The unspoken presence of the passionate kiss we both shared last night to some extent makes things awkward, but it also makes us feel closer.
It brought out our real feelings for each other. Even though we’re both putting the full exploration of those feelings on hold for this semester, what’s now clear is that there’s no kind of bitterness, reticence, or bad feelings between us. That’s an incredible relief for me, and I can tell it is for her, too.
Casually chatting with her as we walk off campus feels comfortable. It feels like home.
When I allow myself to drop my eyes once I notice her looking away, taking in a full view of the way her blue t-shirt hugs her round, soft breasts, and how her tight blue jeans show off her mouthwatering hour-glass figure, the beam of steel that grows in my pants reminds me that I won’t be able to be too comfortable with Heidi.
I adjust my pants as I walk, hoping Heidi doesn’t notice the bulge. Being just friends with Heidi might not exactly be easy for the rest of this semester, even though I know now that it’s the right move.
“How about Archer and Rory last night, huh?” I broach the subject as we’re about to make it to her building.
“Yeah,” Heidi chuckles. “Archer’s a nice guy, but I don’t know, I feel like Rory is so swamp with everything involving that play that anything romantic is the furthest thing from her mind.”
“This semester seems to be rough on all of us.”
“Actually,” Heidi begins, hesitantly, a crooked grin on her face. “Rory and I actually agreed at the beginning of the semester that we weren’t going to date anyone. For the whole semester.”
Well, that kind of explains some things.
“What, only good times and no long times this semester?” I wiggle my eyebrows suggestively.
Heidi rolls her eyes and a warm blush colors her cheeks while she smiles. “No, nothing like that, either. Just a semester-long celibacy since we both have so much going on, and so much riding on how we do this semester.”
“Makes sense. Honestly, sounds like a good idea.”
“Who knows what’ll happen after this semester ends,” she adds wistfully. She throws the comment out like it’s something casual, but it’s laden with meaning.
“Yeah, who knows,” I answer with a smirk.
I predicted that Coach Riker was going to wear us out more than ever this Tuesday practice. And I was right.
The shrill sound of his whistle cuts through the air on the practice field. “What kind of rout running is that, Tillman? Run it again!”
Chase breathlessly nods and gets back to it.
Coach usually isn’t the type to bring the verbal whip down on us in practice. But when he feels he needs to use it, he’s got a strong hand. And after our streak of two wins in a row against top opponents, opponents that no one expected us to beat, I can tell he feels like he needs to keep us in check.
If we let this early success go to our heads, the season can still sink like a rock if we lose our edge. I know that Coach Riker has no intention of allowing that to happen to us. Even if he needs to kick our asses and work us to the bone to prevent it.
Archer jogs up next to me, sweat streaming down his face and his breath short and quick. Coach has been making him run tackle drills against the pads all day, getting him prepared to run the ball through even the biggest and beefiest defenders.
“So, what do you think about Heidi’s friend?” he asks, taking a rest while bent over with his hands on his knees.
“Rory? Yeah, she seems cool.”
“You know if she has a boyfriend?”
I chuckle to myself, remembering what Heidi told me yesterday on our walk home. That she and Rory are taking a “break” from dating this semester. A nagging voice in the back of my head keeps asking me whether that’s legit or just a bullshit excuse to keep me at bay.
But I have to resist the urge to indulge in all that second and third and fourth guessing of everything.
I wonder if Archer could tempt Rory away from her abstention. I know Archer’s not a one-woman man though, or he hasn’t been for as long as I’ve known him. Which to be fair, has only been since last year. Anyone who met me for the first time last year would definitely have the same assessment of me, after all.
Still, I don’t want Archer to just hook up with Heidi’s roommate and toss her to the side. That would risk putting a strain on my and Heidi’s relationship, to say the least. Not that I think Archer would do that. Don’t get me wrong, he’d have a one night stand all right, but only if both pa
rties knew the conditions and were cool with it.
“Nah, I don’t think so. Actually, I think she’s trying not to date anyone while she’s working on directing that play. You saw how stressed out she was about it the other night. I don’t know if she can handle much more on her plate.”
Coach’s whistle screeches across the field with extra force this time.
“What is this, a tea party!?” his rebuke is directed and me and Archer. “Brighton, did I tell you to stop working those tackle dummies? And Tanner, get back to work, too! Go run some drills with Tatum. I better not see an interception this Saturday.”
“Yes, Coach,” we both answer quickly and then hustle on our way to our assigned duties.
Even though I’ve been able to get into a good headspace, and have been able to keep myself from worrying so much about what’s happening between me and Heidi, at least to the point where I can focus on football and not let my performance slip, Sage is clearly deep in his thoughts and distracted.
His form at the last couple practices has been terrible. Forgetting plays, dropping the ball, making all kinds of rookie mistakes. I know he’s way too talented for this to be a real reflection of his abilities. Something’s up – and I bet it has a lot to do with the news that the girl from his hometown is transferring into Winthrop next semester.
“Tatum! You trying to get a hot date with the bench this Saturday?” Coach Riker snaps at him after Sage drops the third pass in a row.
“No, Coach. Sorry, sir. I’ll keep working,” Sage answers, apologetical. Shit, the poor kid looks like he’s going through something. His eyes are swimming in doubt and a jumble of confused thoughts.
“Sage has been having a hard time lately, Coach,” I say to Coach Riker quietly as he stands next to me, out of earshot of everyone else. “I’ll keep working with him.”
The hard judgment in Coach Riker’s eyes softens. He can be a tough SOB when he needs to be, and all coaches need to be sometimes, but he deeply cares about all of his players.
“Go take a water break, Tatum. Clear you head and come back for some more drills in fifteen,” Coach says to Sage, in an authoritative but less harsh voice.
“Yes, Coach,” Sage nods and walks over to the sidelines. I see him grab a water and then sit down on the bench, his head hung low and his eyes focused on the ground between his feet.
Coach has us keep working at a feverish pace for about another hour. Practice winds down and we all take a lap together around the perimeter of the field. After that we’re just hanging out on the field, cooling down before heading into the locker rooms to shower up. It’s the last thing I expect when Lincoln suddenly says, mid-conversation, “Hey, isn’t that your mom?”
I look over to where he points. My mom’s here. She’s standing on the sidelines talking to Coach Riker, holding a bag in her hand. She wears a demure smile on her face as she looks up at Coach Riker, while Coach is laughing, his face and gestures animated.
My mom came to see almost all my home games last year, and even a couple close-by away games. During her visits, it seemed like she’d gotten to know Coach Riker and was really getting along with him. I didn’t think anything of it at first, but toward the end of the season they seemed … well, especially happy to see each other whenever she would come to visit.
And now, looking at them talking at the side of the field, there’s definitely a certain energy between them …
Shit, of all things, this is the last thing I need in my mind right now. I don’t even want to say out loud what I’m thinking might be developing. My mom’s been single since our dad left us, shortly after I was born. Coach Riker’s a widower, whose wife died about ten years ago.
My body tenses up. Fuck, I’m really not sure how I feel about this. Just when I feel like things have finally, at least for now, gotten less complicated with Heidi, here’s something else I need to wrack my brain over.
And this semester was supposed to be simple. Focus on studying and focus on football. No out-of-class or off-field distractions.
Yeah, right.
I’ve got my reunion with Heidi, and the uncertainty over the future of our relationship. I’ve got my brother’s drama, and I’m constantly carrying a sneaking feeling with me that it’s not over yet, and that he’s really not going to be able to take care of it like he says.
And now, I’ve got the fact that my mom and my Coach are looking a lot more … friendly than I really feel comfortable with.
I hear Archer jog over to where Lincoln and I are standing as we observe my mom and Coach on the sidelines. I preemptively release a puff of air and roll my eyes before he even lets out the quip that I know is coming.
“They’re looking pretty friendly,” Archer coos suggestively. I look over and he has his head inclined to one side and just the slightest wiggle transverses his eyebrows.
To say I’m not in the mood would be putting it mildly. “I know it’s hard for you to resist cracking wise at a time like this, Archer. But if I break my hand punching you, we might lose the game on Saturday.”
Archer bellows in laughter, and even Lincoln has to hold back his snickering.
“Et tu, Linc?” I ask him, shaking my head. I expect some teasing from Archer and Chase.
“I’m sure they’re just acquaintances. Friends.” Linc tries to soften it. But when I see my mom laughing at something Coach just said and then playfully brushing at his shoulder in response, my stomach sinks.
“Oh, hi honey!” my mom finally notices me on the field.
“Hi Miss Tanner!” Archer calls out. Archer, Lincoln and I walk over to the side of the field where she and Coach are standing.
“I’d better go work on the playbook. Nice seeing you again, Miss Tanner,” Coach Riker says, excusing himself.
Hey, at least they aren’t on a first-name basis yet. Maybe Lincoln’s right.
“Archer! Look how you’ve filled out. You’re eating well?” My mom does love taking on the motherly role.
“Sure have, Miss Tanner. No thanks to this guy over here,” Archer jests, nudging me. “You should see what he whips up when it’s his turn to cook dinner.”
“The less said about that, the better,” Chase follows up.
The guys all love my mom.
My mom chuckles and shakes her head. “I hope you’re keeping these boys in line, Lincoln.”
“Trying my best, Miss Tanner,” he responds.
“Is everything alright? What brings you over here for a practice?” I ask.
“I was sitting around at home when the mood to bake struck me,” she replies. “Obviously, I made more than I could eat, so I started to think if I knew any growing young men who could use some extra calories.”
She lifts up the bag she’s holding in her right hand. “I brought some cookies, some apple fritters. Even some pumpkin bread.”
Archer’s eyes widen. “Oh, man, Miss Tanner. You make the best pumpkin bread I’ve ever tasted.”
My mom catches up some more with the guys before they excuse themselves to the locker room, giving us some time to talk alone.
“Everything going well so far this semester, Luke?”
How to even answer that question? These first three weeks already feel like a whole school year’s gone by, so much has happened. The paragraphs I could write in response to that question are condensed into a succinct, “Yeah, everything’s good. Classes are a little hard, though.”
Talk about another understatement.
“I know you can do it. Look how far you’ve come already. Anyway, I was wondering … have you talked to Ryan much lately?”
My brother. Not since he asked me for money to take care of his gambling debts.
“We talked a little bit a few weeks ago. Why?”
My mom frowns. “He’s just been acting strange. Distant. He’s come to visit a few times lately, always seems distracted. Stressed. I’m kind of worried.”
I’m sure she suspects he’s gotten himself into some kind of trouble again. I
’m not about to trouble her further by telling her about the debt he’s gotten himself into.
“He hasn’t said anything to me about any problems,” I fib, immediately feeling bad about it. Ryan and I covered for each other with mom all the time when we were growing up, of course, but now that we’re adults, it just feels different. I shouldn’t have to be lying to my mom to cover up for my brother’s mistakes anymore. But they’re his mistakes to own up to, and it’s his decision who he tells -- not mine. “You know how he can get sometimes. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
The look on my mom’s face is far from reassured. “I guess you’re right,” she trails off, before putting on a more positive expression, which I can tell she accomplishes with some effort. “I’m sure you’re right. Anyway, I just wanted to come by to drop off some treats and see my boy again. Would it kill you to call your poor mother more often?”
I chuckle at the classic mom guilt-trip. “You got it, mom. I’m glad you came.”
I bend down to receive a peck on the cheek. “Next Saturday is a home game again. Think you’ll be there?”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” she answers.
That’s next Saturday, though. I can’t look past this Saturday and our next opponent, not yet. We’re on the road again, this time to Chicago.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: HEIDI
The crowd packed into the University of Chicago stadium goans in disappointment yet again as Archer Brighton knocks over one of their defenders during his rush into the endzone. Another touchdown for the Wolves, putting us up 28-9 as the seconds of the third quarter tick down.
“Good job fooling them on that fake pass, Tanner,” Coach Riker congratulates Luke as he walks back onto the sidelines and slips off his helmet, allowing his gorgeous, thick mane of hair to sway in the harsh Chicago wind.
The wind is cutting right through me even though it’s only late September. I should have listened to Rory and brought a heavier jacket.
The little wink and crooked smile that Luke gives me as he sits down on the players’ bench, though, chases the cold from my body and sends a thrill over me, and draws a growing warmth from between my legs.
