Rixon Raiders: The Collection

by L A Cotton

  My muscles tensed as I braced myself for his smug remark about it. But it never came. Instead, he offered Mom a curt, “Morning,” not sparing me a second glance.

  Weird.

  “Your dad already left,” Mom kept her voice breezy.

  “Got it.” Jason grabbed an energy bar and one of his protein drinks and left. He didn’t shoot me a scathing look or mouth any insults behind my mom’s back.

  It was certainly a first, and it had me more on edge than ever.

  Mom sagged against the counter, releasing a heavy sigh. “He doesn’t make it easy, does he?” Sadness washed over her features and I hated him a little bit more for making her feel bad.

  “He’s… Jason.” I sipped my juice.

  “I know, I know. He’s under a lot of pressure with the team and college. But I thought… I hoped maybe with the wedding and it being senior year and all, he would—”

  “Mom.” Placing my glass on the counter, I went to her, taking her hands in mine. “Don’t let him get to you.”

  “He’s just different when Kent is around.”

  Yeah, because Kent was a buffer, absorbing some of his son’s hostility toward me and Mom. And he always had an excuse for Jason’s unwillingness to attend family meals or trips. ‘He needs to focus on football’, Kent would say, ‘He’s under a lot of pressure’. But Mom wasn’t an idiot. Jason hated her almost as much as he hated me.

  There had been a time when I’d wondered if Jason hated me because of her. I’d thought perhaps he was just an angry twelve-year-old, pissed his dad was trying to replace his mom. But we weren’t kids anymore and Jason never did warm to Mom. And he’d only grown colder with me. Besides, from what I’d heard, Mr. and Mrs. Ford’s relationship broke down long before Mom and I ever came on the scene. Mom had been a struggling single parent and Kent had been picking up the pieces of his life when they met, and while I hadn’t been excited about the prospect of getting a new family, after what Dad did to us—to Mom—I only wanted her to be happy.

  Even if she’d chosen an ex-college football player who coached junior high football, with a son who breathed football like it was air. But at least Kent didn’t play anymore. That would have been too much to bear.

  We hugged it out, and Mom pasted on her best smile. “Maybe he just needs some time to get used to it?”

  “Maybe.” I doubted it, he’d had years to get used to them being together before the wedding, but I didn’t want to burst her bubble. “I have to go, Flick’s waiting.”

  “Have a good day, baby.” She kissed my head, and I grabbed my bag, before slipping into the hall, my stomach knotting tighter with every step.

  Once she found a parking spot, Flick cut the engine and turned to me. “Okay,” she inhaled deeply. “You can do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “Go in there with your head held high, of course.”

  “Right,” I replied, confused. “Was there another option?”

  “Well, I was prepared to add another thing to my list.”

  “You were?”

  “Yeah.” Mischief sparkled in her eyes. “I don’t want to end up in the pen, but I’d do it, for you.”

  “In the pen?” I smothered the laughter building in my chest.

  “Ride or die, baby.” Flick waggled her brows. “I’m serious though, if you want to get payback, I’m in. So in. What Cameron did was—”

  “I don’t want payback,” I said, my voice trailing off.

  My best friend jerked back, eyes wide with surprise. “I’m sorry, I think I heard you wrong because it sounded a lot like you said, you don’t want payback.”

  Shrugging, I said, “I don’t. I’m done.”

  “Did something else happen?” She frowned. “Something you didn’t—”

  “You were right. It’s gone too far and if I don’t walk away, I’ll be the one who ends up hurt. I can’t play their games anymore. I’m done.”

  Something had changed when Cameron kissed me, not that I’d ever admit it to anyone. For a split-second, I’d actually thought he wanted me. His kiss was too intense. His touch too desperate. And I’d almost fallen for it; hook, line, and sinker.

  But now, I realized it was all part of the game.

  A game that, until the moment his lips fixed against mine, I’d always been more than willing to play. I’d even considered myself a worthy opponent. The girl who refused to let the Raiders trample all over her. But something was different this semester.

  Cameron had gone after the one thing I’d always protected.

  My emotions.

  He’d made me feel something. Things I didn’t want to feel. The rules had changed, and deep down, I knew if I kept playing the game, my reputation and sanity wouldn’t be the only thing on the line.

  “Wow, Hailee Raine, could it be that you’ve finally matured?”

  “Piss off.” I swatted her arm. “I just have more important things to focus on.”

  “You mean like helping me with my list?” She looked so smug, and I muttered indignantly under my breath. “You owe me, remember?” Flick added, giving me her best puppy-dog eyes.

  As we climbed out of her Beetle, and made our way into school, I couldn’t help but think I’d traded one form of torture for another.

  “It’s like you’re invisible,” Flick whispered on Thursday as we sat in our usual place in the cafeteria.

  “Good,” I mumbled around a mouthful of taco.

  “Yeah, but I mean, it’s weird, right?” Her eyes flicked over my shoulder and I knew she was watching the football table. “After last Friday I kind of expected you to get some backlash.”

  “Paul Rankle asked me if I do three-ways, and Finley Palmer asked me if I wanted to ride his dick in gym. I think that’s backlash enough.” There had been other things throughout the week: notes in English, and a couple of ‘offers’ at lunch, and every time I walked into class the room fell into hushed silence. But on the whole, no one said anything about Friday. I knew it didn’t mean people weren’t talking about it behind closed doors; they just didn’t want to risk pissing off their beloved football captain.

  “I guess,” she said. “And I saw some stuff in the girls’ bathroom—”

  “You did?” My eyes widened. “Of course, you did.” I let out an exasperated breath. Everyone knew girls were a cut above when it came to tearing into one of their own. Guys might have been the ones breaking hearts around here, but girls were the ones ruining reputations.

  “It was probably Khloe and her bitch squad. You know she doesn’t like the idea anyone else is ‘riding Raiders for fun’.” She air quoted the last words and I chuckled.

  “Khloe is welcome to them.” I discreetly glanced over my shoulder. Jenna Jarvis was draped over Jason like a bad rash while the rest of the gym team sat in amongst the team. My gaze ran straight over Cameron and the brunette cuddled up to him, and back to my friend. “Although it looks like the cheer squad is out and the gym team is in.”

  “Well, those girls are extra bendy.” Flick mocked, and my face screwed up.

  “There’s a visual I don’t need while I’m eating lunch.”

  “So, about the game tomorrow—”

  “Not this again, Flick. I already told you, I’m not going.” Attending a pep rally was one thing, but a football game? After last Friday, I couldn’t think of anything worse.

  “But you have to come.” She pouted, giving me her best puppy dog eyes. “Or else I’ll have to go alone, and you wouldn’t want that, would you? Your best friend all sad and alone in a five-thousand strong crowd?” Her lashes fluttered.

  “I hate you.”

  “No, you don’t, you love me, and because you love me, you’ll come to the opening game with me.” It wasn’t a question, so I didn’t answer. But I did glare at her. Hard.

  Flick’s soft laughter filled our little corner of the cafeteria. “It’s going to be so much fun,” she said.

  “Yeah, maybe they’ll lose.” I smirked, the idea filling m
e with a sick sense of satisfaction.

  “Hails, you can’t say that. It’s like bad luck or something.”

  “Fine, fine.” I pumped the air with my fist. “Go Raiders.”

  “Better,” she nodded with approval. “Much better. We’ll make a Raiders fan of you yet.”

  We cleaned up our table and headed out of the cafeteria but when we rounded the corner, Cameron was at his locker. His head snapped up, his eyes fixed right on me. But as quick as they locked on my face, they slid away. As if I was no one.

  As if he hadn’t kissed me the other night and then humiliated me in front of most of the school.

  And the worst thing?

  I didn’t know which hurt more.

  Friday night, I found myself returning to the one place I never wanted to step foot in again. But my best friend was relentless, and in the end, I figured it was easier to get it over with now than spend all semester trying to dodge her advances. I’d half-expected her to greet me with a Raiders jersey and matching ball cap, but she’d said we could build up to that.

  Like tonight would ever happen again.

  “It’s exciting, don’t you think?” She shouted over the noise of the crowd as we filed into the bleachers along with the rest of Rixon. The whole town had closed down for game night and those who weren’t lucky enough to get tickets would be camped around their televisions ready to watch the Raiders’ opening game against Marshall Prep’s Musketeers.

  “Exciting, yeah,” I grumbled as we found our seats. The field was already a hive of activity; the marching band performing while the cheer squad worked the crowd into a frenzy.

  Like the night of the pep rally, the air was electric. But tonight was different. More, somehow. The crowd was hungry for it, the energy of five-thousand people crackling around the Dawson Stadium. But nothing could have prepared me for the surge I felt when the team tore through the huge blue and white banner.

  “My heart is beating so hard,” Flick admitted, her eyes glittering with exhilaration, her skin flushed. She was one of them now. Her heart syncing to the thrum of the crowd, the beat of the band’s drum. A good friend would have been excited for her; pleased she was having all these new life experiences she could tick off her list. But I guess I’d lost my good-friend title when I hadn’t realized she wanted these experiences in the first place.

  Imagine Dragons boomed across the field, barely drowning out the raucous singing as everyone chanted the lyrics at their beloved Raiders. My eyes immediately found number 1 and 42… finally landing on Cameron, the number 14 on his jersey standing out like a neon sign my eyes couldn’t avoid if I tried.

  “Don’t hate me,” Flick pulled my attention, pressing into my side. “But I think I kinda love this.”

  “I know,” I whispered, my stomach dipping. Because I did. She was radiant. As if being here, in the crowd, was her calling.

  “Just promise me you won’t become one of them,” I replied, trying to school my disappointment.

  “Them?” she asked, barely able to tear her gaze off the field.

  “Yeah, a Khloe Stemson or a Jenna Jarvis. Promise me you won’t cross that line.”

  Flick’s brows crinkled as if I was talking another language. But before she could reply, the team captains were called in for the coin toss. When Jason and his teammates stalked back to the rest of their team, she shrieked. “Yes! They won the toss.”

  “They did?” I asked, having no clue about what was happening down on the field.

  “Yeah, see.” She pointed to Jason and Cameron and a few others who were now jogging onto the field. “It looks like they’re going to kick off to the other team.”

  “And I’m supposed to know what that means?”

  She shook her head gently. “Just watch, you’ll pick it up.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do, now pay attention.” Flick nudged her head to the field, and I groaned.

  It was going to be a long night.

  Chapter Twelve

  Cameron

  My muscles pinged with exertion, sweat rolling down my back and beading across my forehead as we huddled in the locker room, waiting for Coach. He strolled in with his assistant coaches, looking as cool as a cucumber.

  “That’s how it’s done, ladies,” he said yanking off his ball cap and running a hand through his graying hair. “Offense, keep working hard, running those rush plays we’ve been practicing, and we’ll have Marshall eating out of the palm of our hand. Defense, keep them pinned down. Bennet, nice blocking, son. Their QB is completing three out of four of his passes but keep on him and he’ll get tired.” Asher grinned at me across the room and I rolled my eyes. “Watch out for their running back though, he has a tendency to go wide and slip our guys.”

  “I’ve got it, Coach.” Asher held up his helmet. “No one is getting past me.”

  “Real glad to hear it, Son. Now gather round.” He beckoned us in. “I know there’s a lot of pressure right now. People were disappointed when we didn’t make it past the first-round last year. Hell, I was disappointed, but this is a new season.” Low rumbles broke out around me as the guys remembered how it had felt to get eliminated thanks to Rixon East.

  “Okay, okay,” Coach Hasson yelled over the noise, waiting for silence. “Let me tell you something about winning State. It isn’t about luck or which school has the best players or the most money, it’s about teamwork and heart. It’s about grasping every opportunity and turning it into something to be proud of. Don’t play for yourself, play for the other ten men on the field. The men watching you from the sidelines.

  “This might only be the opening game, but right here, right now, you do what you do best; go out there and play like champions, do you hear me?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “I said, do you hear me?”

  “YES, SIR.” Our voices melded together, echoing off the walls.

  “That’s what I like to hear. Asher, Son, take it away.”

  He moved into the middle of the huddle, eyes narrowed, shoulders squared. “Who are we?”

  “Raiders,” we all yelled in well-rehearsed synchronicity.

  “I said who are we?”

  “RAIDERS.”

  “And what are we?”

  “Family,” our voices echoed around the room, reverberating through my chest.

  “And what are we gonna do?”

  “Win.”

  “I said what are we gonna do?”

  “WIN!”

  “Damn right we are,” Coach yelled over the noise. “Now let’s go out there and play some ball.” He thrust his clipboard in the air, and we rushed out of the locker room, fists pumping, spirits high. Adrenaline coursed through me as I bounced on the balls of my feet, stretching my neck from side to side. Game night was always a high; addictive and all-consuming. For those forty-eight minutes there was no room to think about anything else but the win.

  The roar of the crowd as we re-entered the field was deafening, the glare of the Friday night lights blinding. We were gods now, and this was our arena.

  “Soak it up, bro,” Jase clapped me on the back. “This year is ours. You ready?” His eyes were dark, almost black. I’d never seen anyone get in the zone like he did.

  Nodding, I pulled on my helmet, biting down hard on the mouth guard, and striding out to our end zone. Marshall were already on the field at the thirty-five-yard line, ready to kick off. Our players moved into position, waiting for the whistle. It sounded and their kicker punted the ball. My eyes fixed on it, tracking its projection as it sailed through the air, long and deep. “It’s yours, Fourteen,” someone yelled.

  It kept flying, cutting through the air like a bullet. I dropped back, moving under the ball’s trajectory, lining myself up for the catch. I didn’t need to think, the actions were imprinted, instinctual like muscle memory. Knees loose, hands cradled, the ball landed with a thud and I tucked it into my body, locking my fingers around the leather.

  “RUN!” Another voice ye
lled, echoed by Coach and his men on the sidelines, our four-thousand strong crowd in the bleachers. But I needed no encouragement, my eyes already scanning the field, anticipating the route home. Marshall’s blockers were already moving downfield, a wave of black and yellow coming right at me, but I saw an opening and took off, pumping my legs as fast as they would take me. Adrenaline fired up my synapses, shooting around my body like tiny bolts of lightning, propelling me forward.

  I passed midfield into the forty, the stampede of Marshall players right on my tail but I kept pushing. Kept moving. Catching a blur of yellow and black in my periphery, I tucked myself in, bracing myself for the hit, but it never came, one of our guys slamming into their blocker, taking him out of the play. Thirty yards… twenty… ten; they couldn’t catch me now as I flew toward the endzone, nothing between me and the touchdown but fresh air. Slamming the ball onto the ground, I found myself jostled between my teammates as the crowd erupted.

  “Ninety-five yards, baby,” Grady shrieked. “That’s how it done.” He fist-bumped me as we moved upfield for our kicker to try for the conversion. The ball sailed cleanly through the uprights giving us the extra point, taking our lead to thirty-eight to six. Marshall needed a miracle now to claw back a win.

  As we ran back to the sideline, Jase collared me, pressing his helmet against mine. “That is why Penn wants you, that right there.” He gave me a rare grin. “One game down, another nine to go and then we’re going all the way.”

  The conviction in his voice was deadly, and I knew Jason believed every word coming out of his mouth.

  We would win State.

  I would go to Penn with him.

  And we’d have long and successful college football careers... together.

  In his mind, there was no other option.

  “Hey, you okay?” He grabbed my shoulder, eyes hard on my face.

  “Yeah, I’m good.” The lie rolled off my tongue. “Come on, we have a game to win.”

  We won forty-six to twelve in the end. Our offense was fast, our defense impenetrable. And in Coach’s words, ‘we outplayed them like a dream’. But the win was bittersweet.