by Cassie Mae
“Thanks, Coach.”
“Not coach…” He smiles. “Captain.”
“Right.”
He lets go of my shirt and pats my shoulder. Then he shoves me toward the line. I exaggerate the force of it to make him feel tougher, even though I don’t think he needs the ego boost.
Sam stands in front of me, but we’re separated by Brewer and Kingston. She snaps an elastic band around her dark red hair, keeping her eyes on me the whole time.
I’m going to lose my shit.
After her hair is pulled from her face, she licks her bottom lip—one quick little swipe—and crouches down to wait for the call. She keeps looking at me.
I’m trying to be cool. The field is always where I feel most confident, but my voice comes out a little shaky when I shout, “Down… set…” Damn it, I need to make sure Kingston is on my right, but I keep looking to my left… up bare, smooth, and creamy legs.
“Hike!”
It happens in a blur. I fake the hand off and search the field for Kingston. But I can’t locate him before I’m sacked.
The wind is knocked out of me for the second time today, but this time it’s not a football to the nuts. It’s this damn sexy girl straddling my hips and chest pressed against mine. A playful smile is on those red lips.
“And here I thought you were a starting player.”
I gulp and let the ball fall from my hand. “Wide receiver.”
She raises an eyebrow. “What?”
“I’m starting wide receiver. Not quarterback.”
“Oh, is that your excuse?” Her breath smells like chai.
“Maybe I was a little distracted.”
The color in her cheeks darkens to the shade of her lips. “I’m Sam.”
Sam. Got it and will never forget it. “Tyler.”
“I thought it was Koontz.”
“Whichever you prefer.” She can call me whatever the hell she wants.
She pushes off me with a grin then extends her hand out. I take it, enjoying the feel of it in mine.
“What did I tell you, Koontz?” Nolan sighs, picking up the dropped football. “Watch your left.”
Sam laughs and ruffles her brother’s hair. He bats her hand away.
“We’re running this play till you get it right.” He shoves the ball in my arms and turns to Sam. “Be easy on him. I don’t think he’s a real football player.”
“Hey!”
Nolan shrugs while Sam laughs again. I can’t help but smile at her.
“I’m just calling ‘em like I see ‘em, Koontz,” Nolan says. “Now line up!”
Sam and I share a look, and then take our positions. She fixes her shirt before crouching low.
I’m definitely watching my left.
“Down. Set. Hike!” I yell, the whole time watching him.
The ball snaps directly to my hands. These boys must be improving. I step back and turn to the left, holding the ball out for Reed. At the last minute I fake and turn quickly to the right. Brewer grabs the ball from my hand and runs right between Josh and Tyler. He makes it about five yards before Tyler brings him down.
“Great job guys!” I clap and turn my smile to Josh. “That’s first and ten.”
Josh just kicks the grass.
We line back up after a quick huddle. The look on Tyler’s face stops me for a second. His smile is almost seductive, so I play along, licking my lips. I wish I brought my Chapstick.
“Down. Set. Hike.” I take a step back. The play is going to be a pass to the left, but my gaze is stuck on him, watching as he gets closer.
“Sam,” Reed hisses my name and takes me out of my trance long enough to have me turn to look where I’m supposed to… It’s too late though.
“Oomph!” All the air whooshes out of my lungs as I hit the hard ground, and Tyler lands on top of me.
“Got ya.” His light blue eyes are sparkling with laughter. “You okay?”
“Yep.” Hell, I’m more than okay. Every nerve ending in my body zings in response to his proximity, reminding me of that tiny bit of contact I had with him last Friday.
I lick my lips again and his eyes narrow. Someone groans, and I’m not sure if it’s him or me.
I move closer to his mouth, wanting to kiss him more than I want to take my next breath, all the while thinking why the hell not? His heart pounds against my chest, and his face moves to mine. The distance between us closes—centimeter by centimeter, until I can feel his warm exhale against my face.
“Are we playing or what?” Josh yells.
Tyler shakes his head, smiles, and hops up.
“Damn,” I mutter.
He reaches his hand out for me, and I grab hold. “What was that?” he says as he pulls me to my feet.
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
***
My brother is a slave driver. He keeps yelling plays like this is the Super Bowl instead a little scrimmage between friends. Surprisingly, everyone just goes along with him. Me? If Tyler wasn’t here, I would’ve told my brother to shut it a long time ago.
Every Sunday he’s in front of the TV. I think he knows the stats of almost every player in the NFL. Asks me almost every week if I’ll take him to the Skyhawk game. I don’t think I can bring myself to.
It’s hard enough not to miss Dad like crazy. At least when I’m at the games with friends, I can pretend for a little while. If I took Josh, it would be a glaring reminder of what was missing. I love my brother more than anything, and there’s almost nothing I wouldn’t do for him, but if I can put him off indefinitely, I will.
Maybe this is his way of holding onto Dad. If he can be good at football and know everything about it, then maybe he’ll be like him.
Josh has the team in a huddle, spouting off directions about where he wants everyone and exactly what he wants them to do. His brown hair sticks to his sweaty forehead, and he swipes it away. The ends of his hair curl up on the collar of his shirt. I’ll have to remember to take him in for a haircut.
“Okay, guys,” I say, bringing my focus to my own huddle. “Reed, you’re on Kingston. Brewer, you have Nolan.” I feel a little dumb calling my brother by his last name, but hey when you’re with the boys… “We can’t let them score. This is for the game.”
“Break!” We all yell and line up. The offense gives us menacing looks from across the line. Nothing like a six-year-old trying to intimidate you.
I try to keep my focus off Tyler. After that almost kiss in front of a bunch of seven-year-olds, I’ve done everything not to watch him or think about him. But damn it’s hard, especially when his shirt is wet and clinging to his muscles.
“Down. Set. Hike.” Tyler’s voice makes me shift my gaze to him. I have to watch him. He’s going to have the ball.
He catches the snap, drops out of the pocket, and then moves right. It looks like he’s going to hand it to Brewer, arms stretched out, but at the last minute he pivots left and passes to Josh.
I run toward my brother and just when I’m about to tackle him, Tyler grabs my waist and holds me in place. I whip around in his arms, but they don’t budge. Josh runs right past me. Brewer dives to tackle him and gets nothing but a mouthful of grass, landing about a foot away from him. Josh prances into the end-zone.
“Yes! Woohoo! We won!” He slams the football into the grass and does a touchdown dance—him shaking his knees and pumping his arms up and down.
“You were lucky,” I say in a mock angry tone. “Next time, you’re toast.” I take my finger and slice it across my neck.
He laughs and keeps dancing. His fellow teammates join his dance party, and I turn to face Tyler who still has his arms around my middle.
“Gonna let go? You can join your teammates for a celebration dance.”
“Coach tells us it’s unsportsmanlike behavior,” he says, keeping his hands locked around my waist. “Besides, I sort of feel more victorious right here.”
“Oh. Okay.” I move my hands slowly and rest them on his stomach, right
about where his bellybutton would be. He’s hot and sweaty, and it’s okay ’cause I am too. And he has this musky, male scent that is really making my brain feel funny.
“What did you do to me?” It tumbles out of my mouth before I can stop it.
“Huh?” His eyebrows scrunch together.
“I don’t know… It’s just a little crazy and I… sorry.” I push on his stomach, needing some space.
His hands are tightly clasped behind my back, but he lets me inch away. He doesn’t say anything for a minute. His cheeks are flushed, and I don’t know if it’s from playing football or blushing.
“It’s crazy,” he says and nods.
We just stare at each other like we’re trying to figure out what the other one is thinking. Tiny flecks of grey are in his eyes. They remind me of blue ice cubes.
“Hey Sammy?” Josh comes up beside us, and Tyler and I jump apart.
“Yeah?”
“The guys and I are just gonna talk over some plays, if that’s okay. Can we stay longer?”
My gaze jumps to Tyler and when I see a smile and a slight nod, I say, “Sure. For a little while.” I turn back to Tyler. “Do you want to swing?”
“Swing?”
“You know, the thing you sit on and move up and down.” I make a stupid motion with my hand, and he laughs with a shake of his head.
“Yeah, swinging sounds good.” We walk in the direction of the playground. His hand brushes mine, and my fingers ache to lock with his. I don’t reach for him though. That would be a boyfriend-girlfriend type of thing, and we’re straddling the Skyhawk/Trojan boundary line—both literally and metaphorically.
The metal chains of the swing creak with my weight. “Have you always wanted to play football?”
“Yeah, my dad played in high school and college. I guess I kind of wanted to be like him when I was little, so I’ve been playing since I was about Nolan’s age. He reminds me a lot of myself.”
I nod. “He’s a good kid. My dad played high school and college, too. I think Josh wants to be like him, and that’s why he gets so obsessed with it. It’s the one thing we have left of our dad.”
Tyler misses a pump in his swing. “Have left?”
“He died earlier this year.” I keep all emotion out of my voice. I’ve gotten good at telling people my Dad has died without showing anything. People get real uncomfortable when you start crying when they ask you about it. And it’s not time for my sixty seconds of weakness. I want to save that for later.
“I’m sorry.”
I nod. “So did you get in trouble for the fight?” I ask leaning farther back, and then quickly pull myself back up.
“The coach wasn’t too happy. Got suspended. I can go to practice, and I have to be at the games, I just can’t play. So, that’s good. I was afraid I’d be kicked off the team.” He pumps his legs, getting higher.
“That would suck. Glad you didn’t get kicked off. How’s your tight-end? And I mean your teammate,” I tease so he doesn’t go dirty street.
Tyler laughs and pumps his legs again. “He’s okay. Leg’s broken, and he’ll be out for the rest of the year. It’s not permanent damage.”
“Oh, good. Brad has some anger issues. Sorry about him doing that to your friend.”
“Is that Skyhawk number forty-three? Brad…” He stops to gulp for some odd reason. “Nolan?”
“Yeah, Brad’s my cousin. Our dads were brothers.”
“Oh, sorry for you know, hitting him.”
“Don’t be. You’re not the first Trojan he’s gotten in a fight with. I’m sure you won’t be the last.” I try to give him a reassuring smile. “How’s your hand?”
“It’s fine.” He holds it up for me to look at. There’s a couple of little scrapes on the knuckles and one bigger one between two of his fingers, but other than that they look normal.
“Not bad. With some luck you’ll end up with a big, ugly scar,” I tease.
“It’s not my first,” he echoes me, “and won’t be my last.” He sets his hand back on the chain. “Did Brad get in trouble?”
“He managed to convince the coach it was an accident. He got suspended for a month, same as you.”
Tyler looks away and the side of his face is just visible. His teeth clench and his jaw bulges, it stays that way for a few seconds and then lets go. When he looks back at me his smile is back.
“Wanna see who can swing higher?” I give him a sneaky grin and pump my legs faster. No more Trojan/Skyhawk talk. It’s killing my buzz.
“Sure. What do I get if I win?” His eyebrows go up to almost his hairline and his legs go just as fast as mine.
“What do you want?”
“How about a date?” He looks away, but before he does, his face turns red again.
My stomach feels funny like I just went down a big hill. “What if I want that, too?”
He looks back at me. “You win, you decide where we go. I win, I decide.”
“Sounds good.”
I lean back as far as I can and then bring myself up. Stretching my body, I exaggerate my movements to get the best momentum out of every pump. Tyler’s doing the same. I’m tall, but he’s taller than me, so it works better for him.
The wind kicks my ponytail backward and then forward into my face, a red screen so I can’t see very well. I’m getting pretty high, but he’s still higher. I pump my legs faster and harder.
The chain begins to jump, no longer a smooth arc then my head is almost even to the bar.
Tyler’s head goes above it. “I win!”
“Only ’cause you’re taller.” I try not to smile as I slow my legs and tilt my head back, watching the clouds.
“Fair and square.” There’s a laugh in his voice.
We don’t say anything for a minute, slowing down. It’s a weird, comfortable silence. There’s an ease I’ve never known with anyone. I don’t have to say anything. I can just be quiet.
I smile at him. “Wanna jump?”
“I don’t know. I’m always afraid I’m going to break a leg.”
“We’ll do it together.”
“Okay…” he says, like he’s not sure that’ll help.
He reaches over and grabs my hand. I let go briefly so I can move my arm in front of the chain and then his fingers return to mine.
“On three,” I say, and he nods. “One. Two. Three.”
We keep with the forward momentum and propel ourselves from the swings, our hands pulling us together. We fly through the air for a few seconds, weightless and free. Then my feet sting with the impact, and he tucks me in his arms, and we roll in the wood chips.
When we stop, I laugh and say, “I didn’t say you could use me as a landing mat!”
“Well, uh, the force just took me, and I didn’t want you to get hurt.”
“My hero,” I joke with dramatic flair.
“Yeah. You should thank me.”
“I should.” I murmur, and once again I find myself inching closer to his mouth. My stomach lurches, and my heart rate pounds in my chest. His breath is warm on my face and smells like grape sports drink. My arms go around his neck of their own accord, and I’m ready to yank his lips to mine and—
“Sammy!” Josh yells. “We’re all done. Are you ready?”
Tyler pulls away with a laugh. “He has impeccable timing.”
“That he does.” Damn it.
Tyler helps me up as Josh runs toward us.
When he reaches us, Tyler says to him, “Hey bud, will you run over to the monkey bars and grab my sweatshirt and water bottle?”
“Sure.” Josh smiles and runs off.
Tyler looks at me. “So, you owe me a date?”
“Yeah, I think I do.”
“Can I get your number?”
“You have your phone?”
He shakes his head. “No, but I’ll remember it.”
I tell him my number right as Josh runs back with his stuff.
“Dude,” he says, poking his finger into Tyler’s c
hest. “You never said you were a Trojan.”
I rub my chest where Josh poked me. He sticks my hoodie out as if it’s covered in loogies.
Honestly, I’ve never been into the rivalry. I have my team’s back when we pull pranks, and hell yeah I’m gonna defend my brothers when it comes to the field. But the entire schools’ back and forth doesn’t make sense to me, and I’m willing to break “the rules” for a chance with Sam.
Crouching down, I take my hoodie and tuck it under my arm. Josh sets his hands on his hips.
“What’s wrong with being a Trojan?” I ask.
He “pfft”s. “What’s not wrong with a Trojan? Can you even call yourselves football players?”
“Ouch.” I grin and glance at Sam behind me who shrugs with apologetic eyes. It’s all right. I hear the same crap on my side of town. I turn to Josh and nod to the field behind him. “I did pretty well out there don’t you think? We won.”
He presses his lips together and furrows his brow. “I guess…after a couple rounds you sort of got the hang of it.”
I love this kid. I smirk and stretch up on my legs. “Maybe I need more training?”
His pursed lips split into a smile. “Some Skyhawk training.”
“Then I’ll see you next week, Captain?”
Josh drops his arms and goes from strict anti-Trojan kid to a regular six-year-old bouncing on his feet. “Really? You’ll play with us again?”
“If it’s all right with Sam.” I give her a short glance again because I know if I give her anything longer than that I’ll be tempted to continue what we stopped in the wood chips—even in front of her brother. She opens her red lips to say something, but Josh cuts her off.
“I’m the captain, and I say be here at eight a.m. No excuses, unless you want to run laps.”
“Yes, sir.” I straight back salute him while Sam stifles a laugh.
He nods and goes to take Sam’s hand, but stops midair. “Wait… unless this is a trick.”
“Huh?”
His brow furrows again, and he jabs me with his finger. “Is this a big plan for you to bring a bunch of Trojans in? Take over our field?”
“No tricks, man,” I say with my hands up. “I need training. I think you could get me in shape.”
