Page 47 of The Game We Played

“Long—”

“I’m kidding.”

I crouch at the line. I inhale a deep breath and concentrate on the field. Football is the only thing on my mind now.

The ball snaps and I explode forward. At five yards, I cut. At ten, I accelerate. At fifteen, I break sharply. A defender tries to jam me. I knock his hand away.

“Hands off,” I mutter.

I can feel the ball in the air. I don’t look back until the last second. Then, I turn, track the ball, and snag it out of the air like it was always meant to be mine.

“Again!” Coach shouts.

I toss the ball back to Nolan. “Little higher next time.”

Nolan scoffs. “Catch it first before you complain.”

“I did catch it.”

“Barely.”

I grin. “You love me.”

“Run the play,” Knox snaps.

We reset and I glance toward the sideline in search of Alaia. I can’t keep my eyes off her. I can imagine her on the sidelines every day. The idea should instill fear in a man full of trust issues. A man who doesn’t believe in relationships. But it doesn’t.

“You writing all this down?”

“I’m deciding whether it’s worth writing about.”

I press my hand to my chest. “You wound me.”

“Focus!” Coach roars.

I return my attention to the field. “Yes, Coach.”

There’s another snap. I choose another route. And increase my speed. I leap and catch the ball one-handed. I don’t even break stride as I land.

“I’ve still got it.”

Corbin jogs past me. “You’re talking to yourself.”

“I’m mic’d. I have an audience.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, I make it look good.”

Coach Knox blows his whistle. “Water break.”

I jog off the field, snag a bottle of water and dump half of it over my head before aiming straight for Alaia.

“You saw me catch the ball, right?”

“I saw you show off.”

“It’s not showing off if I can do it every time.”