The guys let out quiet snickers when I stand, slow and cautious. I don't have any plans to go down like Taylor or Foust today.
One minute I was sideswiping a coach from Central State, the next I saw Taylor face down on the thirty-yard line, not moving. I thought he got knocked out. Nope, he just felt like catching his breath, and the ground was the best place to do that.
“Let's get out there!” Daniels calls out from the entrance to the garbage pit of a locker room.
I take small breaths as we file out, the smell just near strong enough to knock me out. Lockers are slapped, high-fives shared, and chanting noises bellow as we head to the field. Halfway out the door, a thunderous bang jolts me, sending panic creeping into my bones as I look around for the cause. Similar to crunching metal, my head starts to buzz at the memory, and heat rushes through me, restricting my oxygen.
“They dropped some metal chairs back there,” Devon squeezes my shoulder. His eyes are calm and sympathetic, and a part of me hates it.
I give him a grateful nod, almost forgetting his dad struggled with PTSD after his tour in Iraq. Devon idolizes the man, striving to impress him in everything he does. It's a shame for a kid to witness their role model feel weak and vulnerable—even worsewhen it’s their dad. But over time, it's helped Devon learn acceptance and patience in ways I never would have at his age.
He taps me on the shoulder pad with his fist before jogging behind the rest of the team and through the makeshift tunnel they now have standing. After the first game, the entire camp staff had a field day with the PR opportunity that could come from a televised game. I am less than enthused about the idea. Why film a bunch of has-beens? Especially when half of them should be put on stretchers. It’ll be underwhelming, but I committed to playing and to impressing Kate. So here we are.
The sun is starting to set, a mixture of orange and pink shimmering above the turf. A different look than this morning’s game entirely. The splashing of ocean waves is almost too far away to hear, but I register it, focusing on the soothing motions as I put one foot in front of the other. The sound of the metal chairs clanging is almost gone when I make it to the sidelines.
Kate isn't there.
Disappointment deflates my puffed up, pre-game energy. She’ll be here eventually, but talking to her beforehand will calm my nerves. I’ve been nervous ever since this morning, when I decided I was going to tell her how I feel about her, tell her she should stop this dating-strangers-and-getting-coffee-with-exes nonsense and be with me. The game this morning was the perfect distraction. And I would say deciding to wear the extra-tight pants played in my favor, but the heat rash forming on my groin indicates otherwise. Either way, I saw her glancing my way one too many times, and it surged me with this charged intensity I haven’t felt in years.
We’re officially past the ridiculous stage when it comes to my feelings for Kate. They’re a mess of emotions I can’t ignore any longer. I have to tell her. Forget the fact that she can crush my heart like a tomato if she wants. I’ve been dodging my feelings with people for far too long out of fear of losing another personI love. And all those boundaries have done is turn me into this cold, distant gorilla that people cower away from. The few brave souls that haven’t cowered away either love the challenge or can see who I am at my core and accept the mess inside.
I start my very long and specific stretching routine while the younglings jump straight into warm-up tackles and sprints. The wonderful parts of aging—needing an additional ten minutes before I can even start warming up.
Setting my helmet down on a shaded part of turf, I sit and begin. Stretch, breathe, reset. I get through five passes of the combination when a white, plush hand towel lands on my head, blocking my sight.
Whipping the towel off my head, I use it to wipe the sweat pooling on my chest and collarbone. “Thanks, Stanley.”
“How’d you know it was me?” Kate takes a seat next to me, crossing her legs and splaying her fingers out in the turf in front of her. The motion is slow and mesmerizing, and the thought of her doing that up my back sends a hot sensation deep inside me.
“Your shadow.” I smile, hiding the lie. I knew she was close. Her lavender shampoo is hard to miss.
Reaching farther, she swishes her arms back and forth on the ground, smiling like a kid in the snow. “It’s so soft.” She lets out a hum, laying her face flat against the feathery green blades. That hot sensation intensifies as I watch her. Something must be seriously wrong with me if her simply lying on the grass does me in. “How are you feeling?” Her eyes are closed, restful and serene, when she asks.
“I feel fine.”
She opens one eye to assess me, cheek still firmly pressed against the grass as her one eye moves up and down. “You sure?”
“Yes.” I finish my stretches, ignoring the partial truth I’m reluctant to share. I feel fine physically, but mentally, I’m what the teenagers would callunwell.I still have no idea what I’mgoing to say to her later, or if I’ll even be able to without having an aneurysm. It could go one of two ways, and the dread that comes with a possible poor outcome has burrowed itself so deep into my stomach I think it’s become an actual ulcer. I let out a shaky breath, the panic clawing at the back of my throat.
“Well…” Rolling over, she takes in a slow breath, the sun shining on her like a beacon. “I’m glad.” She lies there for a moment, her honey darkened skin glowing under the setting sun. She has no idea how beautiful she is, just lying here in her sweaty work clothes, hair tangled in a heap above her head with a small piece of turf dangling from a loose curl. She could stop a train dead in its tracks, especially if I was the one operating it. I’d go off the rails with just one look at her. “Let’s survive this next game so we can get food. I’m starving.”
Starving.
The sentiment rings differently in my head. I’m hungry alright. Hungry for Kate. I’m a caveman. A lovesick brute, with this primitive nature inside of me barking at my woman as she walks away. Me make words to speak now.
“Tony’s Pizza?” I joke.
She lets out a sarcastic laugh followed by a thumbs up over her shoulder, her side profile revealing a wide smile and bright eyes. Happiness looks good on Kate, and I’m begging this big universe she relies so heavily on to let the fates fall in my favor tonight.
Please let this go well.
Please give me the balls to tell her how I feel.
Please let Kate be happy.
Let her be happy…with me.
I finish up my warm-up with very little time left before kickoff. The Red Team takes the field with about half of their team on the sidelines, injured or refusing to play anymore. Daniels claps his hands together and gestures for the guys to circle him. Wehuddle up and review our first few plays, the cool summer air stilling around us. “Ready?” Daniels calls to the team.
