Page 32 of Pick Me This Time

15

STERLING

Helping Eric at football practice felt good. Being out on the field again was amazing and it was an unseasonably hot fall day, so it was almost too easy to imagine it being the summer, just me goofing off with my friends.

“Okay, guys!” Eric yelled after his shrill whistle pierced the air. “Sterling used to be pretty good at this drill. He’s old now, so take it easy on him, but watch his feet. They’re fast.”

I arched my eyebrows but swung my arms at my sides, more than willing to get back out there. The sun was sitting high in the clear blue sky. The scent of freshly cut grass and stale sweat from the pads I wore followed me out onto the field.

It still looked exactly the same as it used to, like Allisburg High was a time capsule and I’d just stepped into it. I grinned, pumping my eyebrows at the teenagers watching me skeptically from the loose row they were in.

“Sterling?” one of the boys suddenly said. “As in, Sterling North?”

Eric chuckled, his chest swelling a little as he nodded. “The one and only.”

The boy lit up. “I’ve seen your pictures in the football trophy hall. You and Coach were always together, grinning like idiots and drowning in sweat after games.”

“Like you look any better,” Eric joked. “There are also pictures of us looking charming and dapper in our suits on team photo day. Let’s focus on those.”

“Nah, I kind of prefer focusing on you guys drowning in sweat after the games,” the current quarterback said, smirking at Eric. “It means your coach worked you just as hard as you’re doing to us.”

“Please,” I chimed in. “Eric is a picnic compared to Coach Gardner. I, however, am going to do my best to channel the old Garden.”

Eric laughed, tilting his head at me with his eyebrows raised. “Go for it. It’s harder than it seems.”

I strode confidently toward the cones, taking a moment to remember my strategy for this configuration before jogging to where the boys were standing. They watched me closely, and I breathed in deep, tipping my head toward the sky and relishing the feel of the sun on my face. It’d been ten years since I’d done this drill, but everything about this moment was so familiar that it felt like the last time had been ten minutes ago.

Coach Gardner’s words echoed through my mind. Know where your weight is. Stabilize your balance. Stay on the balls of your feet.

I opened my eyes, zeroing in on the face of the kid closest to me—coincidentally the QB. “You. Come here.”

The boy responded immediately, the humor from before melting out of his eyes as he realized we were getting serious. I nodded at him. “I’m assuming you’re familiar with the inside-outside drill?”

“Yes, sir,” he said, a slight smirk on his lips as he cocked his head. “Did you want me to remind you?”

I laughed, the seriousness melting away again. The kid reminded me of myself in my youth, and this whole scene was exactly how things used to be—except that I had been the smart ass and Gardner had been ready to kick said ass for it.

“Watch me,” I said sharply but trying to remember to have fun with this. The homecoming game was serious, sure, but I’d watched these boys for a few minutes before they’d seen me. They were good. Eric had done a great job. I was here to help, not break them or their confidence before the game.

Spinning to face the cones, I took them in one last time. Then I surged forward, muscle memory taking over as I zipped through them.

Eric burst into applause when I left the last cone behind. “Slower than you used to be, but still pretty damn good.”

I smirked. “I’ve still got it.”

I turned back to face the boys, clapping my hands together as I eyed the QB. “Ready to take your turn?”

The kid was blinking fast, but then he nodded, swinging his arms and pumping his legs on the spot. “I’m ready, sir. That was pretty impressive for an old guy.”

I winked at him and pulled the stopwatch Eric had given me out of my pocket. “Do better than I did and you get to keep calling me that. Do worse, and I don’t want to hear it again.”

“Tell me when.”

“When,” I said, punching the button to start his time. The kid raced forward, his eyes locked on the cones as he darted this way and that. I frowned as I watched him, glancing at Eric as soon as the boy was done. “What was wrong there?”

Eric dragged a hand through his brown hair and grimaced at the kid. “We talked about this, Asher. If your eyes are on the ground, how are you going to see anything else?”

The QB, Asher, nodded. “Sorry, Coach. I guess I got distracted.”