Bucking Wild

by Maggie Monroe

  I felt his heavy hand on my back before I heard his voice. I turned. “Ready?”

  Wes was grinning. He loved this shit. His hatred for the Warriors ran deep.

  I nodded. “Hell, yeah. Throw the ball to me every time and I’ll get it done.”

  “What’s that?” Stubbs yelled from the other side of the junk pit.

  “I said I’ll get the TDs this game.”

  “Like hell you will.” The wide receiver strutted over. “I’ll take a few myself.”

  “Come on, boys,” Wes chuckled. “We can split them. Stubbs, you take four, and Sam, you take another four.”

  We laughed. The Wranglers had come here not only to win, but also to annihilate our enemy. We weren’t walking out of here with anything less than a complete and totally humiliating victory.

  Right now, none of us were thinking about the cameras or the hype around the opening game for Monday night. We were defending national champions, and this game would prove that we were on our way to becoming repeat champions. We would rightfully claim the title of Texas’s team. The country’s team. It all came down to this game.

  I pulled the laces on my shoes, making sure they were extra tight. I liked the feeling across my feet.

  Coach Howell walked in the locker room. “Listen up.”

  Our mumbling stopped, and we focused on his pre-game speech. I could predict what he would say. It was seldom different game to game.

  “Guys, we came here for one thing—to win. It’s opening night. Everyone is watching to see if we can do what we did last season. They’re watching Wes. They’re watching Stubbs. They want to see if Sam can catch the ball. They want to know how many yards Persons can get against their defense. They want to see Grainger’s first game. And all the rest of you… they’re watching. Was it a fluke? Was it luck?

  “Well, we know the answer to that. This is a room full of champions.” He paused for a second. “And we’re going to take this game back to San Antonio.”

  We all nodded in agreement.

  “Bring it in,” he yelled.

  I lifted my helmet in the air with everyone else. We could hear the fans through the tunnel. They were screaming and chanting. They would boo when we took the field. They’d throw stuff at our helmets. They’d tell us to fuck off. But it was noise.

  The points on the scoreboard would shut them up, and that would make all this shit worth it.

  I bowed my head as the Coach led a Wranglers’ prayer.

  As soon as Howell said amen, we clapped in unison and filed out of the locker room. I shoved my helmet on my head, ready to take the field. I didn’t care what the fans did or shouted. We were going to win this game. And I’d catch every fucking pass Wes threw my direction to shut them up.

  It was everything we expected. The announcer called for the Wranglers, and as we stormed onto the field, the jeers were deafening. It only fueled our hatred. They thought they were getting in our heads, but they were feeding our determination to win.

  We waited on the away sideline while the Warriors ran out of their tunnel. The fans cheered. There was a burst of fireworks overhead. Everything was a production. It didn’t feel like a football game. It felt like a circus.

  There were cameras everywhere. Someone shoved a mic in Coach’s face before kickoff. I didn’t know how he handled it.

  The Wranglers won the coin toss and opted for us to receive first. I jogged in place, knowing as soon as the special teams were off the field, I’d be on it. I looked toward the booth where Ross, our offensive coordinator, was assessing the defensive. I took my cues from Wes, but sometimes I could tell from Ross’s stance whether or not we had a problem. He looked relaxed from my angle.

  The whistle blew and we had the ball on our own thirty-five yard line. It wasn’t a bad place to start. Plenty of room for me to run was how I looked at it.

  I jogged onto the field and waited for Wes to call the play. The adrenaline was coursing through me. For a flash of a second I thought about last night. How the adrenaline felt with Natalia. Fuck. I shook my head. The lights blazed in the sky. The camera hovered overhead. The crowd was cheering so loudly I could barely hear Wes’s deep voice.

  This was it. The first snap of the season. It was everything we had prepared for. Everything we had wanted. It all started with this first play.

  I wiggled my fingers in anticipation. I rocked forward, ready to sprint to my open spot on the field. I expected coverage, but I could get open.

  The ball was snapped and I took off on my route. I pivoted, and the ball hit me square in the chest. I ran, avoiding one defender and then another. I crossed the fifty-yard line and made it another five yards before the Warriors’ safety took me to the ground.

  “Fuck yeah,” he hollered in my ear.

  I jumped up from the ground, brushing the grass off my jersey. “Twenty yards,” I taunted.

  He thought he had accomplished something, but we were in their territory and no one had stopped me until I crossed mid-field.

  Wes called out the next play and I knew I was blocking this time. I wanted the ball, but I was a hybrid player, meant to throw the defense off. My size gave me the ability to block and my athleticism made me a hell of a receiver.

  He handed the ball off to Persons, who took us another fifteen yards down the field. I could smell seven points. We were close.

  We lined up on the thirty-yard hash mark. The fans were furious. They felt it too. The energy we possessed was electric. The Wranglers were going straight for the end zone.

  This time, Wes threw to Stubbs, who caught the ball just inside the twenty.

  I looked at the quarterback and read the signal. We weren’t going to run. No more blocking for me. I was headed straight for the goal line this time.

  My heart beat hard, but my hands were steady. I wiggled my fingers and tipped upward, ready to run. I skirted around a lineman and darted across the line. It was a blur. I turned to catch the ball, knowing Wes would find me, but I saw a pair of eyes. Eyes that had pulled me into a deep undertow last night.

  I whipped around just in time for the ball to hit me. My fingertips scrambled to hold on to the ball, but I clung to it, bringing it to my chest as the cornerback pounded me to the ground. The ground was solid on my back, but I managed to keep the ball on my chest the entire time. I opened my eyes, rolling to my side to stand when I looked toward the back of the end zone. It wasn’t possible. I forgot I was lying on the ground in front of thousands of angry fans. All I could see was her. There were at least ten yards between us, but I’d memorized every inch of her—there was no mistaking those lips or that body.

  What in the hell was she doing here? Why was Natalia staring down at me? And why the fuck was she dressed in a damn Goddess uniform?

  Stubbs pulled me from the ground, shaking me from the fog. “Hell yeah, brother.” He smacked my helmet, but my feet were rooted in the grass.

  Wes slapped my back, but I felt as if I was in the Twilight Zone, not the end zone. “First TD of the season. That’s how we get it done.”

  She stared at me, both of us searching each other’s eyes for answers, but the guys pushed me out of the way so the field goal team could set up for the point after.

  I walked sixty yards away from her, trying to figure out what in the hell I was going to do now.

  10

  Natalia

  Oh my God. He fell almost at my feet, as if he had taken a tumble from the sky. Sure, he was in the end zone and I was close to the fans, but I locked on his eyes. I wanted to turn away or cover up or run back to the Goddesses’ locker room, but instead, my boots kept my feet planted in one spot. My hands were on my hips with a pair of golden pom-poms nestled at my side.

  Sam was a Wrangler? What in the hell was going on? He walked out of the end zone back to his bench and I stared at the jumbotron. I never paid attention to the opposing team. I barely paid attention to our team. Every time they called Sam Hickson’s name for a catch, they were calling out my Sam? Okay, t
hat was stupid. He wasn’t mine, but last night, he felt like he was mine.

  “Natalia, our line is moving. Come on,” Presley scolded me.

  I had forgotten that after every score we moved to the next section of the stadium. It didn’t matter who scored the points, we kept moving. We rotated clockwise around the four sides. Eventually, the line of dancers I was in would be behind the Wranglers’ bench. I had to trade spots before that happened. I had to stay at this end of the field. I couldn’t see him again—not like this.

  I raised my hands overhead, smiling at the fans, and took my next position behind the Warriors.

  They were pissed. The Wranglers had scored within the first six minutes of the game. They were cursing like sailors behind me. I focused on the crowd and tried to pick out someone that might appreciate a smile. I saw a young mother with a baby strapped to her chest, a Warriors’ hat on its little head. I targeted her and kept my eyes straight ahead.

  What was I going to do? My mind raced. My heart beat rapidly. I was going crazy. Sam was on the other side of the field. We had royally fucked this up. I tried to keep calm, but it was nearly impossible. It wasn’t as if I had slept with one of the Warriors players. But maybe this was worse. Everyone on my side of the field hated the Wranglers. I’d never heard of a rivalry like this until I became a Goddess.

  I was sure I had broken some type of Goddess code. I had probably violated an employee rule. There could be consequences. They could throw me off the dance squad.

  “What is wrong with you?” Presley asked from the corner of her mouth.

  I waved at the baby again. “Nothing.” I grinned.

  “You look like you’re in pain and you’re smiling all weird.”

  I took a deep breath and kicked my good leg high in the air. “See? Fine.” I laughed, but if Presley could see it on my face, then I was terrible at hiding it.

  “This is the most important game of our lives, Natalia. Get it together.”

  “I’m fine,” I replied. “Let’s dance like we’re supposed to.”

  I slung my arm around her as our line snaked together so we could kick across each other. Maybe if I focused on the routines I’d forget Sam was behind me. I’d forget last night. I’d forget that I was falling apart.

  It wasn’t working. I felt off balance. I was smiling, but I was shaking. I lost the mom and the sweet baby in the crowd. There was a slimy guy staring at me and I cringed.

  What had I done?

  “Ow,” Presley whined.

  “Sorry. Sorry.” I had pinched her shoulder. I wasn’t paying attention to anything but the fact that on the other side of this field was the most amazing one-night stand I’d ever experienced. I couldn’t get him out of my head.

  “What is going on with you?” Presley growled through clenched teeth.

  “I said I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to grab you. My boots slipped a little.”

  “You’re going to hurt someone.”

  I took a deep breath. I didn’t want a lecture from her. She had no idea what I was going through.

  “I won’t. I’ve got this.” I kicked in the opposite direction, trying to relax my face into a genuine smile.

  I felt bad for thinking it, but thank God the Warriors didn’t score on their possession. Our team line stayed in the same part of the stadium for another punt return. If the game ended now, with the Wranglers ahead by seven, I’d be happy. I wouldn’t have to rotate one quarter closer to Sam. I could escape without the awkward after-game exchange.

  Although, what would that be? Could we even speak to each other? Would he want to? Would he realize I was a dance squad girl and not want anything to do with me?

  This was a nightmare.

  11

  Sam

  I paced behind the bench. As soon as the special teams returned to the sideline, I’d have to take the field again. I couldn’t see Natalia from our side. I scanned the dozens of dancers on the perimeter, but there were too many players in the way. I didn’t know where she was or if it was even possible to land at her feet again.

  The Warriors called a time out and everyone groaned. One of the assistants ran over to me with a printed handout of the defense’s lineup.

  “Thanks.” I grabbed the sheet to study it. But I couldn’t concentrate. All I could think about was looking up from the end zone and seeing Natalia.

  Her long legs were decked out with gold boots and she was wearing a skimpy top. It was as if she was a mirage and I had imagined her, but I was positive it was her. The look on her face said everything.

  “Looks like they’re changing their blocks.” Wes walked up behind me.

  “Yeah, I see that.”

  “I think we should throw to you three times straight instead of rotating between you, Persons, and Stubbs. It’ll confuse them for a few more plays.”

  “All right,” I agreed.

  Wes could be reciting the Greek alphabet right now and I wouldn’t know the difference. My head was reeling. I wanted the time out to last an hour so I could find her. I wanted to run up to each of the dancers until I knew what I had seen wasn’t a dream. She was here. Natalia was in the same place.

  I heard the ref blow the whistle and jogged to the forty-yard line. I was on the far right side of the field and I made the mistake of looking at the Warriors’ bench. There she was, waving her pom-poms in the air. I’d know that ass anywhere. My lips had been all over it.

  The adrenaline pumped through me, but I hesitated half a second when Wes called for the snap. Damn it, it was enough to put me behind pace. Everything was a blur and I struggled to settle my nerves. I knew I had fucked up no matter how fast I ran or far I dove to get in position. When the ball headed for me, I was off step. I panicked, knowing there was almost no chance I could redeem myself for hesitating at the scrimmage line. I reached for it, throwing my entire body into the air with my full force, but the ball slipped through my fingers and landed on the ground, rolling out of bounds. I hung my head as the fans cheered and the Warriors hollered around me. Shit.

  Wes screamed at me over the defense. “What the hell was that?”

  I shook my head and tapped my helmet as if I hadn’t heard the call. If I caught the next one, it would all be forgiven. I knew better than to look over my shoulder. Her back was to me anyway.

  Wes grunted the call and I took off. I wasn’t going to miss this time. The ball hit me square in the chest and I raced toward the goal line. I ran another ten yards before the cornerback took me down.

  The crowd was pissed, and that was enough for me to know Wes would be happy. Stubbs gave me a thumbs up and I took my position behind the line of scrimmage. I had to keep my head clear. Another catch and we could run a scoring play.

  I cracked my knuckles and leaned forward. I could maneuver through the linemen with no problem. As soon as I heard the snap, I ran toward the center of the field and the ball came spiraling toward me. I grasped it and tucked it against my chest. I shoved off one defender and plowed down a second one. I could see the end zone. I couldn’t believe they were going to let me score this easily. I raced over the ten-yard line, when out of nowhere, the cornerback plowed me to the ground from the side.

  “Thought you could score?” He stood over me, baring his teeth. “Not in Warrior territory.”

  I glared at him. “Who has the points on the board?”

  He stepped over me as one of his teammates hauled him away. He was one of those jackasses who liked to fight. All it would take from me was a real taunt and he would have thrown himself on me. He didn’t care about fines or penalties. He was a defender.

  Persons walked up to me. “What did that damn corner say?”

  “Nothing.” I shook my head. “He’s a fucking moron.”

  Persons slapped my helmet a few times. “Going to let me get this six?”

  I laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”

  He looked straight in my eyes, the dark paint running down his cheeks from the humid night. “I don’t shit talk
about the score.”

  I knew I had to block this time, but I wanted those points. I needed them. I gritted my teeth together, determined to get open. If Wes saw me in the end zone, he would throw it to me no matter what play he called. We were alike in that way—we both loved to score.

  I faced the Warriors’ front line. I glared at the man in front of me. His nostrils flared and his knuckles were white from pressing into the grass with over three hundred pounds of weight. I’d studied him. He was strong, but sluggish.

  “You’re not getting past me,” he threatened.

  “You sure about that?” I smiled, cocking my head to the side.

  He was leaning so far forward it would be easy to throw him off balance. As soon as Wes took the snap I hurled myself forward, throwing the lineman to the ground. He grunted, reaching for my legs, but I was ready for the arms and hands that would come for me. I jumped high over his back, running past him into the end zone. Persons and I were on opposite sides of the goal post, but he had double coverage and I was wide open.

  I felt the surge of adrenaline. The energy sizzle under my skin. I needed Wes to see me, and this play was mine.

  The ball zipped close to my head and I caught it with one hand, yanking it from the air. There was no way to describe the feeling. The purity of the moment when I scored for the team. It was fucking unreal.

  The Warrior crowd started throwing popcorn and beer cans down from the stands. Stubbs gave me a high-five and I felt like the luckiest bastard here. Back-to-back touchdowns and it was only the first quarter.

  I tossed the ball into the first row to a kid wearing a Wranglers jersey. He jumped up and down. There were a few of our faithful here. Only you couldn’t hear them because the locals were so fucking obnoxious.

  I crossed the field and took a cup of water while we waited for the field goal team to kick. I smiled. It was fourteen to zero and it was exactly the way we wanted to start the season.

  I felt the high. The rush from scoring. The feeling that I was invincible. Nothing could stop me. Not the Warriors. And then I looked up and saw her marching in my direction toward the goal post. I swallowed hard. She was getting closer and I realized she spotted me too. I was on the edge of the bench closest to the goal line.