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Professor Shipman announced the end of class about an hour later. Before I could get one word out, the woman in black darted out of the classroom and even further away from me.
***
“Yo! Chase, go long.” What the fuck is Adam doing?
We were smack dab in the center of the campus food court during the middle of a lunch rush. I barely had time to throw away my lunch when Jarod pulled the football he carried from practice over his shoulder in a typical passing formation.
If he planned to throw that ball in here, trouble was sure to follow. Possibilities crossed my mind–an onslaught of jersey chasers, a riot from the brown nosers trying to study and a food fight. Whatever happened, Coach would lose his shit. There was nothing I’d let interfere with my chances of being the starting wide receiver.
No!
“Down. Set. Hike!”
Fuck.
Jarod released a back-field pass into the cafeteria. The spin was perfect. If we were on the turf, it would have been an excellent throw.
But we weren’t.
My big plans for a career in the NFL flashed through my mind and disappeared in a cloud of smoke.
“No.” In a split second, I dashed to catch the ball. There were people everywhere. I had to shove one guy to the ground just to figure out which direction the ball was moving.
Her.
The ball spiraled through the giant room, straight towards the chick with the stone heart.
“Heads up!” I called just as she peered up from the old tarnished book in her hands.
Maybe she won’t kill me. I could try to talk her into cursing me instead. Closing my eyes, I envisioned the best-case scenarios. The ball could fall into her food instead of smashing into her body. Maybe it will just land at her feet. There were a couple of other guys at tables close to her. One of them could have easily made the catch.
When the loud thud of her body hitting the floor, passed out from the force of the pass, never came, I opened my eyes.
A little twitch just below her nose, the beginning of a scowl, sent my conscious into fight or flight. And made my dick twitch.
Run!
My feet wouldn’t budge.
Flame breathing dragons, smoke and all, would be a better match for me than the brooding stare pointed straight at me. The girl, fuck, I don’t even know her name, had her book balanced in one hand and Jarod’s football snugly secured under her opposite arm.
If looks could kill, I would have died on the spot.
“Oh, fuck. Is that Fire in her eyes? Nose goes man.” Jarod tapped his nose and pointed to the chick.
Thanks, dick!
“Did you catch the way she plucked the ball from the air? Legit! This girl must have heard it coming. One second she was reading her book, the next, her hand was reaching for the ball. Whoever she is, she’s got mad skills.” I didn’t realize Luke had finally made it through the Chick Filet line.
Hearing a pass on a quiet open field is one thing, but picking up on that sound in a loud, crowded room takes a special talent. Coach Foster taught me that trick.
“Close your eyes and wait for the perfect moment to lift your hands. Let the ball come to you.” Coach’s advice lived on long after he did. The more I practiced, the clearer the sounds of the ball became. Damn, I wish he was still here to see me now.
What about his daughter?
That was a thought for another day. I had a situation to handle.
“I believe this belongs to you.” She shoved the ball into my chest. For such a little person, she had a lot of force behind her shove.
