They’re trying to get in my head.
And Mason’s the easiest way to do it.
He’s standing with his shoulders squared, his chin level, and his game face fully on.
“Evans.” He shakes my hand, and when our eyes connect, his lips lift ever-so-slightly. “Long time no see.” This is the first time we’ve actually played each other, and I’m looking forward to seeing what we can both do.
His grip is tight, but that’s not surprising considering he’s been snapping footballs since he was nine years old.
“Moreland.” I hold it for a second. “You look good.”
His gaze drifts down before connecting with mine again. “You look tired.”
“I’m 2-12 with no Coach. What do you expect?”
The corner of his mouth tips a little, but then he presses it down. “Sorry that we’re about to make it 2-13.”
I raise my brow, knowing this is his way of showing sympathy. “Don’t write us off yet. We’re doing better than that record says.”
“Good.” It’s quick, but I know he means it. “Make us work for that playoff spot, Evans.”
“Trust me, we're not rolling over.”
The referee steps in and runs through the formalities. The Night Owls call it in the air.
Heads.
They win.
Mason looks at it, then at me. “We’ll take the second half.”
I hold his gaze for a second. He thinks his defense is going to annihilate us and wants to set the tone early.
Well, Mason, I’m going to prove you wrong.
“Thanks,” I say. “Good luck.”
“Good luck, Evans.” He nods, turning back to his sideline, high-fiving Sebi on the way.
I jog back to my own, and Dax falls into step beside me before I’ve even reached the hash marks.
“Mason looks locked in.” He glances back over his shoulder before pulling his helmet on.
“Well, I hope his defense is a little less locked in than he is,” Reese mutters.
“Run your routes, and they won't need to be,” I say to both of them.
“Inspiring,” Dax replies. “Truly.”
By the time we’re ready to take the field, the special teams have already managed to secure a start at the thirty-yard line. I can work with that.
The team lines up as I yell out the call, and the second the snap hits my hand, I step back, scanning the field. Reese gets blocked immediately, but I throw a fake his way anyway, which shifts the defense just enough for Dax to break through the middle.
I throw the ball, and the second Dax catches it, everything shifts. The stadium comes alive; the sideline loses its mind, and for the first time in weeks it feels like we can actually do this.
We’re ready.
We’re so fucking ready for this.
