1
Adam
Itear my helmet off my head, shoving my fingers through my thick brown hair as hard as I can.Ican’tseem to throw the damn football to save my life.
Fuck!
I start a silent countdown, waiting for Coach Parker to scream his head off. Since the season began a week ago, the teamhasn’t been in sync. Hell, I’m not in sync. It seems my arm died a quick death during the off season.
Carter,Cypress University’sbest running back,jogs up to me. “We’ll get in the groove before Saturday. We always do,hoss.”
I chuckle at his nickname. He calls just about all the guyshoss.I’d learned when Mom, my sister, Phoebe, and I moved from New Jersey to South Carolina four years ago thathoss had a few different meanings. But here in the South,hossis interchangeable withdude, at least from Carter’s mouth.
Despitehis Southern slang, the loss last weekend to Southern Coast University was gut-wrenching. I hate starting off the seasonlosing to a team who has never won a game against Cypress University.
After blowing his whistle, Coach Parker shouts, “Get yourassesoff the field.Grab some water, andfind a seaton the bench.”
Yep, he’s pissed.Hell, I am too. I don’tknow why we’replaying like we don’t know the game.
Some of us jog over to the sideline while others take their time, wiping the sweat off their faces.
Carteris still at my side cussing about coach under his breath. “He’s been ridingus hardsince July when we started practicing.”
I lift a browat the blond surfer-looking dude. “This is your second year on the team. You know how he is.”
“Sure,” he says, biting his lip. “But he’s especially ornery lately.”
I clap him on the back. “Once we get a win under our belts, coach will take a breath.”
Carter rolls his blue eyes, tucks his helmet underneath his arm, and saunters toward the team. As he does, he casually says over his shoulder, “You hanging around for the frat party this weekend?”
I shrug, trotting to the water cooler. I hardlydo parties.They’re mostly on weekends when I trek the thirty miles home to hang with Phoebe while Mom works double shifts.I hateMomhas to bust her ass while I play football and study. But she insisted, ordering menot to get a job.
“NFL is your future, Adam,” she’d said. “I don’t want to ruin that for you.”
Neither do I, and only because the money will be great. Maybe, one day, I can buy Mom a house and have enough money where she doesn’t have to worry about bills.
She was relieved when Cypress University offered me a full scholarship. We both celebrated the day I received the offer letter.
Despite that, I’mthe only man in the family, and I should contribute. But since moving from New Jersey, our lives have been pretty okay. Mom’s job at the hotel has kept food on the table and the bills paid. Still,if it ever comes down to football or my family, I’ll choosemyfamilyin a heartbeat.
Carter hands me a cup of water before pouring his own. Downing the cool liquid, I use my jersey to wipe my face.
The hot afternoon sun is brutal to practice in, but the weather is always warm to hotintheSouth, depending on the time of year. It only starts to cool down in late October,and even then, it doesn’t get that cold, not like the brutal winters of New Jersey.
At times, I miss living there only because Phoebe and I loved to play in the snow.Wehad to be carefulthough. The cold weather doesn’t suit my sister with her cystic fibrosis, which is one reason we moved. Phoebe has less of a chance of getting sick here although theSouthern climateisn’t always a guarantee. We also made the move because the cost of living is cheaper in the South.
Carter and I find a seat on the bench when some chick in the standscalls his name. Odd that she’s even in the stadium since our practices are closed.
Carter blows a kiss to the pretty brunette. “She can fuck like you wouldn’t believe,” he says in a low voice, smirking.
Whenever I’m around Carter, I roll my eyes repeatedly. I swear he has a different chick in his bed every night.I don’t check out dudes, but one thing I’ll say about my teammate is he’s built to play football—broad in the chest, big in the arms, and the man can run like the wind on a stormy day.Aside from that, Phoebe thinks Carter is hot. So, I guess that’s why he gets the chicks.
Soon enough, a security guard emerges to escort the brunette out of the stadium. She gives Carter one last wave.
We both chuckle at the sight until sounds of arguing tickle my eardrums. I whip my head around to investigate. Coach isina heated discussion with Tom Price, one of our offensive line coaches. The man knowshis football, and usually coach letshim do what he sees fit with the offensive line.For a moment, I wonder if their argument has anything to do with my poor performance today. Coach Price ran us through drills hard, and it isn’t his fault I sucked.
I strain to hear what they’re talking about, but out of the corner of my eye, I spot Sam running toward me likehe’s being chased by one of his enemies inCall of Duty.
