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Practice is a bitch.My arm aches from constantly throwing and that son of a bitch Derek tackled my ass out of nowhere, taking me down to the ground. The coaches went apeshit, screaming at him, and Derek apologized over and over again, making me feel bad for being mad at him.
Still am though, even if it’s unreasonable.
Once I’m dressed and ready to leave, Coach asks me to come into his office, which I do, settling in the chair across from his desk.
“Maguire waiting for you?” he asks. He knows our living situation and how we usually go to practice together.
“He is,” I answer.
“I’ll make it quick then.” He scoots his creaky old desk chair closer, resting his arms on the edge of the desk. “We need to protect you at all costs.”
“Protect me?”
“Your arm. That asshole Derek.” Coach rubs his jaw, his lips firm. “I’m sorry that happened.”
I’m in shock Coach would apologize. “You had nothing to do with it.”
“Still. You’re the best fucking QB we’ve had in years. I can’t risk losing you, not this year. You and Maguire are powerhouses. You two keep this up and you’re on your way to the NFL for sure.”
I refuse to get my hopes up. That is the ultimate dream. But I’m not part of a legacy like my friend. With his retired NFL-playing father and uncle, he’s got an automatic ‘in’ that I will never have, and while I’m not jealous of it, I sure do wish it was me sometimes.
“Thanks, Coach,” I say when I realize he’s done. “That’s all you wanted to tell me?”
“That and I wanted you to know how much I appreciate you. The entire coaching staff does. Your calm demeanor keeps everyone on an even keel which we appreciate. Those boys listen to you, son. Your quiet leadership is outstanding. You are an asset to this team, Fields.” He nods once, and I leap to my feet, taking that as my dismissal. “Don’t fuck it up.”
The same words linger in my brain the entire drive home. I give noncommittal answers to Knox, while what Coach said is on repeat.
Don’t fuck it up.
Talk about freaking me out. I am bound to fuck it up. I’m not perfect. Not even close. And I have a feeling I will do exactly that at one point or another during the season.
“What the hell did Coach say to you to put you in such a funk?” Knox demands.
I send him a look, afraid to repeat anything out loud. “Just tried to pump me up.”
Knox grins, the cocky bastard. “I take it that it wasn’t a success.”
“More like freaked me out.”
“Well, put his words out of your head. Don’t let him get to you.” He pauses, and I know he’s thinking about how this sort of thing always messes with me. “We have a game this weekend. It’s going to be great.”
“You really think so?”
“I know so,” Knox says firmly. “Think about something else. Think about…the pretty girl you ran into on campus today.”
My defenses shoot up. “How do you know I ran into a pretty girl?”
“Because you always do, asshole. It’s that face of yours.” Knox slaps me on the shoulder, making me flinch.
The only pretty girl I ran into just so happens to be related to my best friend and roommate. Blair’s face pops into my brain, her tantalizing words now on repeat, replacing Coach’s.
I’ve wondered what it would be like with you too.
Seriously, what the fuck is she saying? She had a crush on me a while ago, but was she implying she’s still into me?
Hard to believe, but I don’t think she was lying when she said that.
