Page 53

Theo

The energy in the locker room vibrated against my skin. Chatter, laughter, music. Somebody was shouting from the showers, two guys were arguing over whose playlist sucked worse, and every few seconds another locker slammed hard enough to echo through the room. Every inch of the place felt loud and alive, which was exactly how a locker room should feel before the first game of the season.

There was always this strange mix of excitement and nausea before kickoff. Some guys fed entirely off the adrenaline, practically bouncing off the walls until somebody pointed them toward the field. Others were silent with headphones on as they mentally ran through every possible mistake before they’d even taken a snap.

And me? I landed somewhere annoyingly in the middle. My body wanted to move, but my stomach wanted to revolt. Meanwhile, my mind kept bouncing between fuck yes, football was finally back, and holy shit, what if I fucked this up.

Normally, I could shove the second thought away pretty easily, but this year made it harder to do so.

Not that I was getting ahead of myself—I wasn’t. Mostly. Rhodes hadn’t said I was being scouted, but the implication was there. Still, nothing was guaranteed. Scouts could lose interest. I could have a shitty season. I could get hurt. There were approximately a million things that could happen between someone’s watching you and hearing my name called in the draft.

I had shaved Jude’s head, though. That had to count for something.

I laughed as Jude made his way down each row of lockers like some kind of bald mascot, stopping in front of every player until they rubbed the fresh fuzz covering his scalp. The freshmen looked confused until someone explained, but the veterans acted like Jude's head contained ancient supernatural power. We were weird, but it was fun.

A loud bang on the door made Dino yelp and practically fall off the bench. Half the room cracked up.

“Five minutes!” Rhodes yelled through a crack in the door. He never came into the locker room if he could avoid it. I understood why—the perception of closed-minded people if he ever came out—but I wanted to believe that didn’t matter. The new defensive and offensive coordinators had no problem walking in whenever they needed to, no matter how naked players were. Coach Hale had thrown open a shower curtain once to yell at someone. He was lucky it was Jude, who treated his nakedness like a gift to the world—though we all heard Rhodes scream at Hale later about player privacy. “Five minutes, and I want your asses out on the field!”

“Let’s do this!” one of the guys shouted from another row. That was all it took for the locker room to erupt. Everything disappeared beneath shouting, clapping, feet pounding against the floor, and whatever nonsense we could come up with to make ourselves louder. I joined in immediately. This was the best part about pregame energy. Nobody needed to make sense. You just contributed. Which was exactly how Jude ended up singing Careless Whisper by George Michael.

And that was also how an entire team of football players was late for our team meeting for the first game of the season because karaoke got the better of us.

That last hour before a game started was everything. High energy, loud noises, big feelings. Every single time. It didn’t matter if it was the first game of the season or the last. There was something about that final stretch before kickoff that made every nerve ending come alive. The crowd outside got louder by the minute, and everybody moved with purpose, even when nobody knew what the hell they were doing beyond waiting for the clock to run down.

I loved every minute of it. There was nothing else that felt quite like it. I rode that high—we all did. It didn’t matter that Mayflower Bay University, the Big Blue, had almost won the Championship last year. They’d come way closer than we had. We were pumped for a bigger year. A better year.

“Are you done yet?” Rhodes practically shouted to be heard over all the chatter. We all shut up. For all the shit we gave Rhodes, when he wanted our attention, he got it. “I said everything I needed to say yesterday. Hopefully, you remembered it because I’m not repeating myself.”

“Repeat yourself!” Jude shouted, creating a wave of laughter.

“Fuck off,” Rhodes retorted. I grinned. His attempts to be professional with Jude were deteriorating by the day. At the beginning of camp, Rhodes had tried—really tried— and Jude treated all of that like a personal challenge. Honestly, I was impressed Rhodes had lasted this long. Holding out against Jude’s particular brand of chaos was a feat for anyone. Not everyone was Wyatt and I. “All I have to say is play hard, play your best, and have a damn good time doing so. That’s the only thing that matters.”

Those weren’t words I’d expected. My dad had never sent me onto a field with a have fun comment, and none of our previous coaches had either. There was always something to improve or ways not to screw up.

Rhodes made it sound so simple: play hard, play well, and enjoy it.

“That, and kicking their asses!” someone yelled from somewhere behind me. The whole group immediately lit right back up, cheering loudly.

“Play fair, play smart, and you’ll do that just fine,” Rhodes cut in, talking over the loud agreement. “Does anyone have any questions that are useful in this situation?”

“I have something,” Jude said. I pressed my lips together tightly to keep from laughing before he even continued. I knew exactly where he was going with this.

“Let me repeat,” he began, deadpanning his brother. “Useful, Jude. Useful.”

“Everything I say is useful.”

“Moving on—”

“I need you to rub my head!” Jude interrupted. Any chance I had of not laughing flew right out the window with the look on Rhodes’ face.

“What the fuck?” Rhodes frowned. “I’m not rubbing your head, you dumbass.”

“Actually, I need you to rub my head,” he continued. “It’s a game ritual.”

“It’s a stupid ritual.”

“Still a ritual.”