Coach walked in between and around us. “A girl on this team might do you boys some good. Maybe she’ll show you a thing or two. Anyway, she’ll be down on the field after we finish practice. Right now, get your asses up. We’re facing one of our toughest rivals tomorrow night.”
We hopped to attention. While everyone separated into defensive and offensive lines, I ran up to Coach. “We don’t need Montana. Austin can kick.” Austin was a great kicker, but he was better as a wide receiver.
He pierced me with dark eyes. “What are you afraid of?”
“Honestly, she’ll distract me. The girl drives me fucking crazy. And since I’m being completely honest, my dick stays hard when she’s around.”
He chuckled. “You’re a teenager. Your dick should be hard all the time.”
I didn’t know about that. “Also, have you thought about her safety?” Then again, as a kicker, she wouldn’t be in harm’s way.
“Practice. Let me worry about her safety.”
Reluctantly, I joined the offensive line. I wanted to argue more, but with Coach, arguing only got a person fifty more laps around the track. Not that I was a wimp since I ran outside of football. I just didn’t want to croak before the game tomorrow night.
“Well, what did Coach say about Montana?” Derek asked.
“Forget Montana. You heard Coach. We have a tough rival tomorrow.”
We ran through play after play after play. We had just gotten into formation for our last play when I spotted Montana walking toward Coach. All the guys saw her too, some muttering their disapproval.
Ignore her. Play the game.A wild fucking laugh broke out in my head. Montana had made it impossible to ignore her on any given day. I was about to obey my conscience, when off to my left, I spotted my old man. I didn’t know what was worse—Montana showing up, making me want to tackle her and do things to her that I’d been imagining since I met her, or my old man showing up to watch me then tell me everything I was doing wrong on the field.
Then it dawned on me. I hadn’t heard from my dad about a refrigeration guy to fix Montana’s air conditioning.
“Are we playing?” Lou asked.
I placed my hands behind Lou’s legs. “Set!” I yelled as I scanned the offensive line. “Red twenty-five!” I turned my head to my right. “Red twenty-five!” I turned my head to the left. “Hut! Hut!”
Lou snapped the ball. I shuffled back as I honed in on where Austin was going to be. In football, the quarterback threw the ball where the receiver would be, not where he was. My dad had drilled that into me at an early age.
But my focus wasn’t anywhere on the field. My dad and Montana were shaking hands. Several swear words went off in my head. Then before I could release the ball, I was tackled by two of the players from the defensive line.
Some of the guys started yelling, but the loudest person was Coach. “Fuck, Everly. That fucking head of yours is up your fucking ass again.”
“Yeah, man.” Lou held out a hand. “It’s not your head, but your eyes were on someone’s ass.”
I got up without his help, ignoring my old man. I could hear him now. “You’re not going to get into USC if you play like shit. That was a moronic play. Blah, blah, blah.” I’d heard all his rants, and they never went in one ear and out the other. Nope. They only angered the fuck out of me.
I flared my nostrils as I flipped the ball back to Lou. “Again!” I barked, not looking at anyone beyond the guys.
We huddled as I blew out a breath.
“Don’t worry about your old man,” Austin said.
Derek chuckled. “He’s not worried about his old man. He’s got his dick pointed at Montana.”
“Can it,” I said. “All of you. Let’s run the play again.”Fuckers.They were right on both counts.
We practiced the play again, and this time, I built tunnel vision around the field. Granted, the tunnel was thin since I could see out of the corner of my eye. Montana was talking with Coach, while my father seemed to be listening. Once Austin caught the ball, he ran only to be tackled about five yards from the end zone.
“All right,” Coach called. “Take five laps tonight around the track. Then get some rest for tomorrow. Everly, front and center.”
Everyone removed their helmets, grabbed some Gatorade, then headed onto the track. Before I met Coach, I got a drink, checking on Montana, who had fallen in line with Austin, jogging around the track in her tight yoga pants and a workout bra that kept her tits firmly in place.
Whatever you do tomorrow night, do not look for her in the stands.
I knocked back the Gatorade as my old man came up to me.
