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It wasn’t just about football, it was about Hailee. About wiping the smug grin off Thatcher’s face when we beat them. But it was moving fast, too fast. Shit. In a risky move, I pushed off the ground and lunged forward, stretching my fingers until I felt my muscles rip, pain pinging through my shoulder. But it paid off as I felt the familiar smooth leather graze my fingers.
“Touchdown,” the announcer yelled as my body collided with the hard ground. The crowd went wild as I lay there, staring up at the lights. My muscles hurt and my lungs burned, and I was pretty sure I’d pulled something, but it didn’t matter. We’d done it.
I’d done it.
Jase and Ash were first to r
each me, pulling me to my feet and then the rest of the guys were on us, jostling us around like we’d won the Championship game. But Jase wasn’t celebrating with us, he was staring across the field, his eyes set right on Thatcher.
“Come on, man.” I pushed through the crowd and slung my arm around his shoulder. “Not here, not now.” I kept my voice low.
“One day,” he ground out, his voice eerily calm. “One day.”
Two hours later, still riding the high of our win against Rixon East, we were crammed into Coach Hasson’s place for the annual Rivals Week dinner. It was a ranch style house overlooking the river with enough space to host the team and their families.
“Hmm, bro, why are Hailee and Fee here?” Asher nudged my arm and tipped his head to where the girls had just walked in, both looking like deer caught in headlights.
“Beats me.” I took a long pull on my soda, feeling the deep ache in my shoulder.
Later, after dinner, Coach would turn a blind eye when we all raided his cooler for beers. But for now, while the team’s families were present and sober, he expected decorum.
“They came with my dad and Denise,” Jase grunted, joining us. My eyes went to the beer in his hand.
“Really?” I asked, my brow quirked up.
“What?” He shrugged. “I needed one.”
Rolling my eyes, I fought a smirk. Jason didn’t follow the rules, he made them. And I knew no one would give him shit about it.
“I knew they were at the game,” Asher added still staring over at them. “But I had no idea they were coming here. I think she’s stalking me.”
I sprayed soda into the air, chuckling at the ridiculous statement. “You’re not serious?”
“As a heart attack,” he deadpanned, folding his arms across his chest as his eyes narrowed on Hailee and her friend. But they never so much as glanced in our direction.
It had been the same all week. After the disastrous morning at Asher’s house, after the party, Hailee had avoided me like the plague. And I gave her space, because what else could I do? She’d kissed me… tried to do a whole lot more than that, and I’d rejected her. I didn’t regret stopping play that night; she was drunk, and Jase was right along the hall buried balls deep inside one of the gymnasts. But I regretted how things went down between us.
I just didn’t know how to fix things—or whether I should even try.
“Here he is,” Mr. Ford’s voice rang out above the noise. “The man of the moment. Congratulations, Son.” He made a beeline for me, clapping me on the back. “That was a hall of fame moment right there.”
“Thank you, Sir,” I said, my eyes flicking to Jase. “Couldn’t have done it without my QB.”
“Right, of course. Good game, Son.” Mr. Ford held out his hand to Jase who shook it with mild hesitation.
“Thanks, Dad.” His words were clipped, and we all felt the tension between father and son.
“Jason,” Hailee’s mom burst through our small huddle. “That was… I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.” She tried to pull him in for a hug, but he inched back. Denise faltered, covering his brush off with a wide smile. “We’re all real proud of you, all of you. And to think you could bring home the big one this year.”
We all smothered our laughter at her false enthusiasm, even Jase fought a bemused smirk.
“Okay, darling.” Mr. Ford wrapped his wife into a side hug. “Let’s leave the guys to have their fun. I want to talk to Henry.”
Henry, or Coach Hasson as we knew him, was outside at his huge grill, a cloud of smoke billowing into the air.
“This is your year, Son, we’re all counting on you,” were Mr. Ford’s parting words as they left us to our fun.
Thirty minutes later, we had all gathered outside on Coach’s orders. He and his wife served us burgers and hot dogs, steak and ribs. It was good, but I missed my parents. They hadn’t been at the game to see us beat the Eagles and they weren’t here now to celebrate with us.
