“Aston, not now.”
“She’s why you’re all smiley, isn’t she?” he chides.
“I’m not smiley.”
“Yeah, you are.” He bumps my shoulder with his.
“Shut up.” I bite back a smile.
He grins. “I’m just fucking with you.”
A whistle blows, and we’re directed to an area where some of our coaches are standing.
“All right, listen up!” Coach shouts. “Quick run-through for the media scrimmage. Nothing fancy. Keep it clean. Show someenergy. And for the love of football, no one say anything dumb on camera.”
“Definedumb,” someone says.
“Anything you say without thinking.”
“So, I guess I should keep my mouth shut then.” Aston snickers.
Laughter ripples around us.
Even Coach fights a smile.
The scrimmage is light, mostly for show and photos. Once the ball is in play though, my instincts kick in, and it’s hard to keep it casual.
Noise hums around us, and cameras flash.
At the first snap, I see Saint across from me, calling the defense, following my moves.
I take the handoff and fake right, roll left, then scan the field.
Brody’s running down the field, double coverage trailing him, like they already know he’s gonna be trouble.
I launch the ball into the air, creating the perfect arc.
He jumps, snags it in a one-handed catch, and lands on his feet like he planned the play just like this.
Brody makes a show of spinning the ball on the turf and walks over to one of the cameramen. “That’s how you do it, boys.”
I shake my head and laugh.
When I look over toward the sideline, I see Alie standing there smiling. Not a professional, work-mode smile. A real one.
And, yeah, that’s enough to throw my concentration for the next play.
Thirty minutes later, we wrap up on the field and start to rotate through interviews.
When I finish mine, I walk over to the hydration station and grab a bottle of electrolytes.
I look to my left and see Presley reprimanding—politely but firmly—one of the rookie players who got a little rowdy on the field.
Presley seems to be really good at her job. She’s smart and organized, and she isn’t intimidated in the least by anyone, let alone the players. But more than that … she really seems to care about our well-being.
I notice Saint walk up behind her, listening in on her conversation with the rookie.
He’s calm while she talks, his arms folded over his chest. Watching her with a quiet amusement that suggests he’s enjoying this more than he should be.
