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Miles is known for his juice cleanses and any new healthy fad. I swear every single one of them should have a warning,may need nose plug to consume.
“What happened to the dreads?” I ask Darius. His hair is cropped close to his rich brown skin.
“Had to make myself less appealing. Too many ladies wanted a piece of me.”
The locker breaks into laughter, easing some of the tension. Some of the guys are shoo-ins for this season, but some are still chasing the dream. Unfortunately, by the end of training camp, the roughly ninety players in this locker room will be cut to fifty-three.
“I gotta take a piss. I’ll catch you at the meeting,” Miles says and leaves.
I chitchat with a few guys as I change into Kingsmen’s athletic gear. Now things get real.
When it’s time, I walk into the auditorium and sit next to Miles.
“We’re going to have a good season. I can feel it,” he says, rubbing his hands together.
I whip my head in his direction. “Jesus Christ, Miles. You’re tempting fate!”
His forehead wrinkles. “I don’t believe in that bullshit.”
“Everyone knows that’s the kiss of death.”
He shakes his head at me. “You honestly don’t think we can do this?”
I’m superstitious, while Miles is the only player I’ve ever met who has never reworn socks, stopped shaving, or had some routine at every game for fear of losing a winning streak. “I didn’t say that. But it’s not something you say like it’s a sure thing.”
“We have everything we need. Hell, Brady Banks at receiver and you at quarterback.” He puts his hands in the air. “Dream Team.” And he shrugs like the cocky asshole he isn’t. “You’ve got me at safety on defensive. Pick sixes all day long.” He pretends to catch a ball and run.
I can’t stop laughing at my best friend. He’s really not conceited, so when he pretends to be, I enjoy every minute of it.
He turns to me, seeing I’m still not convinced he just put a spell on us. “Whether we say it or not doesn’t change the outcome. It’s our hard work, our confidence, and our attitude that will get us to the Super Bowl.” He smacks my shoulder. “And that big contract you’re looking for.”
I shake my head, not wanting to think about my contract at this moment even if it looms above me like a dark cloud.
Thankfully, Coach Baker walks through the side door, the rest of the coaching staff following him like little baby ducks crossing a road. “What is this, kindergarten? Quiet the fuck down!”
His booming voice grabs everyone’s attention and it turns dead silent.
He smiles, happy he still has the authority to get us to do anything he wants. “Welcome.”
The room laughs. Coach Baker isn’t a hard-ass, but he is someone to fear. He’s all about hard work and dedication.
“Okay, for you newbies, I’m Coach Baker…” He continues down the line, introducing all our coaches and staff. Lastly, he signals to Dr. Carlisle, our head athletic trainer. “And when you get injured, here is the man you see.”
Dr. Carlisle steps forward, shaking hands with Coach Baker as though they didn’t talk to one another minutes earlier. His short light-brown hair is perfectly gelled, and he’s dressed in the Kingsmen polo and khaki shorts as if he’s ready for his endorsement deal. I think the guy is kind of a dick—he thinks he’s a celebrity, bragging about his Instagram following—but he’s kept me healthy all these years, so who am I to judge.
“Thanks.” He turns to us in the stands. “I’m Doctor Carlisle, Head Athletic Director. I look forward to having a great season with you all and doing our department’s part to keep you healthy. I’ll start by introducing our staff members. For you veterans, we only have one new addition this year.”
The group of athletic trainers comes out and I’m busy cracking my neck from my shitty sleep last night, so I don’t bother looking as he says the names I’m already familiar with.
“Oh shit,” Miles whispers.
“What?” I ask, looking down right as she emerges from the group. All the air in my lungs seizes as though I’ve been sacked by a three-hundred-pound nose tackle.
“It’s her, right?” Miles turns to me. “Shayna—”
“Kudrow,” I finish for him, my eyes locked on her.
It’s her, the woman I screwed over in college.
