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Strong Hall.
Must wear all black.
It took a few hours, but we eventually spotted all the symbols scattered around campus.
Thank you, Dana Kirby.
I’ll figure out the best possible way to show my appreciation.
“Morgan! Head up!”
I raise my head, but it’s already too late.
The wide receiver slams into me. I’m on my back in a second, his enormous frame hovering over me as he drops us to the turf.
“Sorry, Connor,” he says, pushing off. “Thought you saw me.”
I sit up, taking his hand as he offers to help me up. “That’s all right, Pete.” I glance down the field. “The ball make it, at least?”
“Straight to the end zone,” he says, adding with a laugh, “Like always.”
I brush off my pants. “Not always.”
“Mostly always.”
“Morgan!” Coach Thomas barks at me from the sidelines. “You got somewhere else to be?”
“No, sir!” I answer.
“Then keep that head in the game!”
I wave to show I heard him before rushing for the field goal kick.
I scold myself as I go. Unfortunately, keeping my head in the game is easier said than done, especially with Dana taking up most of my headspace.
But I have to focus. I have to be good. Better.
Better than Emerson Floyd.
When the last whistle blows at practice, our side is up by seven points. Sure, most of our goals resulted from me throwing the ball halfway down the field, but most of our losses were on me as well. We lost yards because I chose the wrong play. I can throw and catch and run — but I can’t always see the right path to take in the moment.
Like a good quarterback should.
Like a starter should.
“Man, you are distracted today.”
I glance away from my locker, a wet towel wrapped around my waist. Emerson lingers in front of his own, one foot propped up on the bench as he ties his shoes.
“I guess,” I say.
“Don’t beat yourself up,” he adds. “I probably would have faked that hand-off, too.”
I turn away. Of course, he chose my biggest mistake of the entire game to rub in. “Whatever. Just leave me alone.”
“Leave you alone.” Emerson laughs. “Leave her alone. Is there anyone else I’m not allowed to speak to?”
I hold back the rage I feel at the mere idea of him even thinking about Dana. “Stay away from Dana, Emerson,” I say.
