“Hello to you too.” I grinned.
“Finn is over there with the subs. Would you know something about that, Chess?” Saylor said, her raised brow emphasizing her censorious tone.
Turtling down into my jacket, I said, “He mentioned something about being demoted. But I’m sure it’s temporary.”Ihope.
“It’d better be. That sophomore who’s playing ahead of him is about a half-second slow off the line,” she said, returning her attention to the field.
“Who are you here to watch, Saylor? Have you been holding out on us?” I asked.
“I’m here as an annoying fifth wheel to you three and your hot Wildcats. I also happen to be a fan.” She sniffed.
Noticing the sparse number of other fans in the stands and the marked absence of noise coming from those fans, I asked, “Are we allowed to cheer?”
“Bad form,” Jamaica said. “Callahan says in games it amps the team up. In practice it distracts them, which the coaches frown on.”
“But how will Finn know I’m here supporting him?” After discovering his current situation and the probable part I’d played in it, I needed him to know I was here for him.
“Don’t worry, Chess,” Jamaica said with a grin. “He knows you’re here.” She gave a slight nod toward the field where Finn stood beside one of the coaches, but his focus wasn’t on what the coach was saying. He was smiling at me.
With a discreet wave, I smiled back at him. A minute later he lined up where the sophomore had been and ran the play like a rock star. Instead of smashing the quarterback into the turf, he picked him up and set him gently back on his feet for what obviously should have been a sack.
“I take it it’s also bad form to sack your own quarterback.” I smirked.
“That’s why the QBs wear red jerseys, so our defense doesn’t lay them out,” Jamaica said in a sage tone that cracked me up.
“Six months ago, you didn’t have a clue about football. Now listen to you, Miss Football Analyst.” I laughed.
Jamaica stuck her tongue out at me, and I laughed harder.
As practice wore on, Finn continued to play with the second string D-line, popping the happy mood from last night’s reunion like a balloon. My inability to listen, to give him a chance to fix things, had obviously messed with his head to the point he truly had stopped caring about his sport like he’d said in one of those last texts. Watching him tear apart the second string offense today, seeing his fire and skill go unchallenged by the other players, did nothing for my conscience.
At least the coaches seemed to praise his play. From where we sat in the stands, I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but their body language conveyed appreciation for Finn’s efforts. Maybe he’d had a chance to win back his starting position before the team’s spring scrimmages. No matter what, I had some apologizing to do.
As darkness descended on the field, the temperature dropped several degrees, which had the four of us cuddling together under a second blanket Saylor had thought to bring. The players’ breath evanesced into the stadium lights, which came on as the sun went down. Their sweaty heads steamed in the cold whenever they removed their helmets on a break in play. Right when I thought I’d have to cry uncle and head back to campus and somewhere warm, the coaches called an end to practice. The players jogged off the field in the direction of the locker room, and my friends and I all sighed in relief.
“I’m frozen,” Piper announced.
“Me too.” Jamaica’s teeth chattered.
“I vote the Union and hot chocolate,” I said as we descended the stairs to the concession area beneath the stands.
“We’re headed to Stromboli’s, Chess,” Piper said as though I should have already known that. “The guys are meeting us there.”
“Oh. I’m out of the loop.”
“By choice,” Jamaica scolded.
Sliding her arm through mine, Saylor dragged me ahead of our other friends. “Don’t mind them. They’re just pissy about their front-row seat at the Finn Implosion Show these past couple of weeks, what with how much time they spend on Jock Street.” Her tone might have been nonchalant, but she chose her words to sting.
Bruised already from my own conscience, Saylor’s words only pummeled my heart harder.
“He compared me to women like his ex-girlfriend—like Tory Miller. If that’s the way he saw me, then I didn’t see the point of us spending any more time together,” I said in my defense.
“But you couldn’t give him a pass for maybe reacting to the moment?” Saylor’s tone had lost all its previous lightness.
“Jamaica escorted him to my room last night after her shift at the Sweet Shop. He didn’t leave until midnight.” I left it there, disengaging myself from Saylor’s hold on my arm as we neared Piper’s car.
“About time.”
