Matt trotted back across mid-field to his own twenty-yard line, where he scooped up a football. He held it in one hand, and I grinned, watching him go into the zone, where opponents only he could see threatened to sack him. He had the uncanny ability to fake being in a tight situation, even in the middle of the the most laid-back practices. He stuttered forward a few feet, eyes darting downfield to where I waited. Simmons stepped into the role of safety, trying to both distract me and intercept the pass. None of us were wearing pads today, since there wasn’t any hitting on the offensive line the day before a game, but I knew Simmons would give snagging the ball his best shot, short of tackling me.
Lampert finally let go the ball, sending it spiraling through the air. I tracked it, falling into that place where nothing else existed but an oblong piece of inflated leather and me. I measured the arc with practiced eyes and stepped backward at the last minute, feeling the rough and welcome texture even before it fell neatly into my waiting hands.
Twisting away from Simmons, I tucked the ball securely against my chest and sprinted toward the goal line, crossing it without even getting winded. Behind me, a few teammates clapped, and I heard some hoots of praise from the sidelines, where the cheerleaders had just finished their own practice. Standing a little apart from the crowd, I recognized one girl by her jet black hair, caught up in a high ponytail. She waved and cupped her hands over her mouth.
“Nice moves, Lion!”
I made a show out of giving her a little bow and went back to my team.
If I’d thought I was going to get off easy by coming in late to practice, I was sorely mistaken. Coach had all of us receivers do a series of route running drills, separation drills and some three hard aways. By the time he finally blew his whistle and sent us into the locker room to shower and change, I was dripping with sweat even though the air had gone from chilled to downright cold.
I was bringing up the rear, dragging my feet, as I tried to figure out how I was going to deal with Brent and his buddies. I’d just cleared the field and was passing the stands when I heard my name.
“Leo. You looked good out there today.” Sarah Jenkins stood just on the other side of the low wall that separated the bleachers from the sidelines. She was wearing an oversized hoodie on top of the shorts the cheerleaders all wore for practice, and her hair gleamed in the low lights from the field. Her legs were long, slim and still tanned, probably from being outside for practices. The sweatshirt hid her other assets, but I knew from previous experience that this girl had curves for days.
I’d dated Sarah back in junior high, when dating hadn’t really meant much more than a few afternoons at the movies and a stolen kiss or two. Back then, she’d still been thin, and the boobs I hadn’t dared to touch were small and perky. We’d enjoyed hanging out together, and when our infatuation had run its course, we’d stayed casual friends. Over the last few years, I’d seen Sarah at parties, where we’d chatted from time to time. She’d blossomed, as my mom would say, and she’d become part of the popular crowd. I knew she’d gone out with a couple of different football players, but as far as I’d heard, she hadn’t gotten serious with anyone. Sarah was one of those rare girls who was genuinely nice, yet could hold her own with the bitchier chicks.
“Thanks.” I stopped and gripped the metal railing separating us. “What’re you doing still here? I thought cheer practice ended an hour ago. At least.”
She shrugged. “It did. I wanted to watch you guys.” Her eyes searched my face. “I also wanted to ask you how Nate is. I heard talk around school that he was pushed down the steps to the gym.”
I frowned. “Where’d you hear that?”
“It’s going around. If you’re worried about Mr. Platten hearing it, I don’t think that’s going to happen. No one wants to see the team have to play without Brent tomorrow.”
I nodded. “Good. I’m pissed at them. God, I’m more than pissed, I’m furious. But Nate doesn’t want to rat them out, so I’m doing what he wants.” My frustration laced the words.
“Hey.” Sarah laid one small hand over mine where it rested on the railing. “If that’s what he wants ... but is he okay? Someone said he was unconscious when the EMTs took him out of here.”
“He was, but yeah. He’s going to be all right, I think. I just don’t get why those jackasses feel like they have to torture him. We’re not in junior high anymore. Nate doesn’t bother anyone.”
She sighed. “Guys like them don’t need reasons to act like assholes. Just like all the cheerleaders who’re bitchy to—to some of the other girls. My mom calls it stupid high school crap. She told me she’d like to say it ends after graduation, but some people just never grow up.”
“Great.” I groaned, rolling my eyes. “Nice to know I have more of the same shit to look forward to, huh?”
“Guess so.” She lifted her hands from mine and crossed her arms over her chest. “God, it’s cold, isn’t it? I’d better get home. Early night, with the game tomorrow.”
“Yeah. I should go get changed. We’ve got the Twelfth Man dinner tonight.” Every week that we played on Saturday, Coach organized a team dinner on Friday night, complete with pasta so we could carb load and a motivational speaker. Some of the guys groused about having to go—attendance was mandatory—but I secretly loved the dinners. The food was always excellent, the speakers Coach found were interesting, and hanging with the team—there was nothing better than being with my buds, in a situation where there were no chicks, no booze and no drugs. No pressure to be anyone but who we were.
But I hesitated before I turned to leave. Something had been percolating in my brain since I’d spotted Sarah watching us from the sidelines. It wasn’t an idea I was proud of, but I was pretty certain it would work. “Hey, Sarah, you going to the diner with us tomorrow after the game?”
She tilted her head. “I always do. Maybe you don’t notice because you’re surrounded by other girls.” She sounded teasing, not accusing, and I grinned.
“Hey, I can’t help it if they all find me irresistible.” I reached out, tugging at a lock of her hair that had escaped from the hairband. “Maybe I need someone to help me fight them off. Want to be my protector?”
Happiness sparkled in her brown eyes, and brand-new guilt stabbed at me. I liked Sarah. I didn’t want to use her. But maybe ... maybe I could give her a good time, too. I didn’t need to hurt her. We’d had fun back when we were younger, and there was no reason to think that couldn’t happen again.
“Well, I guess if someone has to do it, I might as well volunteer.” She lifted her face, her lips curving into a smile. I wondered if she expected me to kiss her then, but I couldn’t make myself do it. Not when the memory of Quinn’s lips was still so fresh in my mind. Not when I could practically still taste her on my tongue.
Instead, I touched Sarah’s cheek with the tip of my finger. “I’ll see you after the game then. I better get inside before Coach comes gunning for me.”
“Okay.” Sarah turned her back to me, bending to pick up her pom-poms and handbag. I eyed her sweet little ass as the material of her shorts stretched tight over it.
Yeah, there wasn’t any reason Sarah and I couldn’t have fun together again. Maybe even more than that.
The fact that it was going to hurt Quinn wasn’t something I wanted to think about. In the long run, she’d be better off. In the long run, the only one who’d end up losing was me.
And I was willing to pay that price.
