Hart stepped closer to help me tighten the sides of my vest. “Do you know how to play?”
“Is it like normal football?” I asked.
Hart nodded. “Yeah, sort of.”
“Then no, I know nothing.”
He chuckled, and even Nathaniel smiled a little.
“It’s no-contact,” Hart said. “That’s the biggest difference from football. You can’t tackle, dive, or block.”
I nodded. “Good, because I wouldn’t know how to do any of those things.”
“You see where the ball is?” Hart pointed to a football placed on one of the spray-painted white lines in the grass. “That’s the line of scrimmage. It’ll move forward or back depending on where the play ends. It’s a starting point. Picking up where we left off.”
I frowned, already a bit confused as to how to accurately track the change.
“Okay, so what—” I cut off when a jacked softball player appeared with an armful of belts that sported fabric strips velcroed across. She passed them to each of us. My stomach twisted when I remembered I was among Division I athletes. They were on track to do this for a living. Some of them would make millions doing this for a living. And here I was, in baggy jeans and a dream. Maybe I should have cheered from the sidelines? Had Hart actually invited me out here anyway? Had the invite been just to spectate? I couldn’t remember.
“This won’t be serious.” Nathaniel smiled at me, a gentle acknowledgement that he’d noticed my internal panic. “We bend the rules all the time. No need to worry about getting it right because there isn’t a right with this bunch.”
I nodded, only half-calmed by the assurance. My eyes strayed to David, a couple of yards away. A yellow vest hugged his torso. His arms crossed over his chest, emphasizing the broadness I used to overlook. I missed overlooking. Everything felt easier that way.
“You sure?” I joked. Half-joked. The other half panicked. Iwished I had time to run over to Haven and grab my phone. I needed to find a short crash course on all things flag football and ingest every detail in the next four to five minutes. “The yellow team looks stacked and determined.”
Nathaniel shook his head. “Promise. They’re all bark. This is all for fun. No one wants to get hurt before the season’s over.”
“Makes sense.” I nodded, and a few of the knots in my shoulders unwound.
David’s gaze found me again in the crowd, and he raised a questioning brow. I frowned back, sending an unspoken,what?He wasn’t well-versed in telepathy. Nor did he have an interest in learning it on the fly. He mouthed,you okay?
The concern in his brow made my chest tighten. I fought the urge to walk right up to him and ask him what was so big and important about his day.
Fine, I mouthed back.
He nodded, satisfied, and turned back to strategizing with his team.
“You ran in high school, right?” Hart’s question shattered my delusion that the only people on this field were David and I.
“Cross country and track.” I nodded. “I was better at track.”
Small, quick bursts of energy earned me a spot on varsity all four years in high school.
“How much better?” Hart asked.
“Fifth in the state during my junior year in the 800 meters.” I placed my hands on my hips; it was still something I was proud of. “And third, during my senior year.”
“Thinking what I’m thinking?” Hart gave Nat a knowing smile.
Nat returned it, not as convinced but still amused. “You know who’s going to want to cover her.”
“Yara can take him.” Hart waved his hand, dismissive of the warning.
I raised a brow. “Take who?”
“He’s going to hold back,” Hart promised. “If you’re one of our wide receivers, David won’t work half as hard.”
“It’s a decent strategy,” Nat agreed.
