Page 166 of Forever Relentless

I sighed, and when Holt turned around, I was already running back to him.

“Needed water,” I told him.

“You’re lining up against him.” Holt jerked his thumb toward the defensive end. I’d already forgotten his name. “Pretend you’re a tight end, Matthews. See if he can take you down.”

I didn’t argue. We did this all the time.

One-on-one with me on offense, all I needed to change was my footwork — set off from the right instead of the left. I adjusted my stance.

Holt blew the whistle.

I took off.

The DE missed me.

By a mile.

I cleared him by ten yards.

I jogged back, grinning, until I caught Holt’s glare and the smile disappeared from my face.

“Again.”

We ran it three more times. He never even grazed me with his fingertips.

When I turned to jog back to the line, Coach Sutherland was standing beside Holt.

“I used to laugh off the idea you could play tight end,” he said.

That wasn’t reassuring. He looked me over like he was reconsidering something.

“Spence!” he barked.

My stomach dropped.

“Yes, Coach,” Dante said, already moving toward us.

“Get the O-line. Matthews is your tight end. I want you to throw it to him.”

“Coach?” Dante glanced at me, then toward Moore warming up nearby.

“Did I stutter, Spence?”

“No, Coach.”

Dante started calling names. The offensive line assembled while I hesitated where I stood.

“Coach, I—”

“To the right,” Sutherland snapped. “Spot’s empty.”

“I don’t know the offensive plays,” I reminded him. “I’m a linebacker.”

He snorted.

“You forget you tore holes through my offense all Saturday? You know the plays.”

Coach Merriman had wandered over now, watching the setup.