Page 126 of Fall Fake-Out

“Run, Miss Langford!” one of my students yells.

“I am running!”

“That’s a jog!”

“Then why am I so winded?”

The teachers have the ball. Wade’s hand is on my lower back as he steers me toward our huddle. I glance down over my shoulder, looking at the contact then up at him, but he just shakes his head.

After the play, his fingers brush my hip as he straightens the belt at my waist. “Your flag is twisted.”

“Yours is too.” I smile up at him as my hands go to his waist, spinning his belt.

Across the field, Landrie catches my eye. The look on her face says she’s noticed the unnecessary touching. I immediately look away. I don’t have time for judgmental sisters at the moment.

Now the students have the football. I jump up to intercept but miss and fall to the ground. Wade must’ve done the same thing too, because he’s suddenly on the ground beside me. The play continues on, the student easily scoring behind us. Instead of immediately hopping up, Wade rolls over my body with a roguish smile, basically using me to push himself upright.

“Stevie,” one boy laughs, “Langford’s on your team. You’re not supposed to tackle her.”

“I guess I forgot the rules.” Wade laughs as he helps me up. Once I’m standing, he doesn’t let go of my hand but pulls me closer to him. “Convenient how that keeps happening.” A cocky grin rounds out his expression before he turns and runs to the line of scrimmage.

Oh, my heart.

I press my hand against it, willing it to slow down, but it doesn’t seem to work.

When we have the ball again, I take off across the field, fully aware that nobody expects me to catch anything. There’s not even a student guarding me. But somehow a football lands directly in my hands—because Wade threw it at me. For one deeply misguided second, I think I’m athletic. Then, three senior boys immediately start charging toward me, and I squeal despite my competitive spirit. One of the boys reaches for my flag, but just before his fingers touch it, Wade is there, making an incredible block like he would die before he’d let a student get close to me. I run into the end zone.

TOUCHDOWN!

Wade lifts me clean off the ground in celebration. I forget that I’m a teacher and that he’s the principal and wrap my legs around his waist as he spins me in the air like we just won the game.

We didn’t.

We’re losing by twenty-seven.

When he finally sets me down, I become aware of two things.

One: half the town is staring at us with smiles that feel oddly too big.

And two: Wade doesn’t seem to notice.

Or maybe he doesn’t care.

The tailgate takes over the school parking lot within minutes after the teachers’ football game. Students throw balls between rows of trucks. Parents set out Crock-Pots, grills, and folding chairs. Somebody brought a speaker and plays music.

The smell of grilled burgers and wood smoke drifts through the parking lot. It’s quaint in that perfect small-town way.

“About time,” Pam Vasser says as she hands me a paper plate.

I pull my eyes to her. “About time for what?”

She gives me a look that says she knows something I don’t. And for a split second, I’m worried she's going to bring up the beet incident. Instead, she says, “You and Wade. It’s about time he actually fell in love with a girl.”

My brows lift. Fell in love?

Did Pam steal a controlled substance from the doctor’s office and get high off of it? Because love is a heavy word to be throwing around.

Before I can refute her claims, she’s gone.