"Except nothing with Mick is ever ‘for fun.’ Not anymore." Sato crossed his arms over his chest.
I flipped him off and sat down to continue stretching.Gimme a break.
"…and that demon Seager over there," Danny said. "You two practically compete just to get to the field first."
Would've gotten cold after my warmup.I leaned over my right leg and grabbed my cleat.
"The difference is that guy"—Danny stood and pointed at Seager, the backup quarterback with the loudest mouth in Texas—"would break people up on Valentine’s, just to get the best players."
"Poor girls," Sato said in a pitiable tone.
I switched legs and continued stretching. "Just focus on the game."
"Hey, Earth to Mad-ma-tron." Danny bent down, puffing cold breaths into my personal space. "We can't play if we don't have at least five girls."
I shoved him away. "I’m aware."
"They’re the only ones who can score. Worst kind of cockblock I’ve ever heard." Danny tossed the ball from one hand to the other. His man bun wobbled on the back of his head. "What if we forfeit?" He palmed the football. "Do we still have to streak?"
"Yep. And everyone knows us, man. Misha’ll kill me."
"Why does she care?"
I winced. "Don’t ask him?—"
"She claims it’s her property. Not for show. Not for sale."
This is why we don’t ask.
"It’s supposed to snow next week. The shrinkage alone..." Danny threw a short pass to Kurt as he joined our group. "Gonna ruin my dating life."
I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep, cold breath. Sighing, I gained my feet. Heat swirled through my abdomen even as the biting wind chilled the skin of my cheeks and hands. I pulled on my gloves, performed a couple more stretches, then took off at a jog.
"Nothing rattles that guy,” Danny's voice drifted after me. "He's like a machine."
"That's why he’ll be in the draft next year. No doubt in my mind," Sato said.
After the year I had? I have doubts.The grass crunched beneath my cleats.It's not just pride. I had no room for mistakes…
Every practice.I leaned down and "scooped" at the ground with one hand, then righted myself. Jogged a few more steps and leapt.
Every game.I scooped with the other hand.
Every throw.Jump! I pivoted at the painted yard line and cross-stepped a grapevine across the field.
Every snap.The shouts of that freshman upstart Seager caught my ear again. "Grandma's slow, but she's fucking old. What'syourexcuse?"
I hated it. The fact that my brain had him on repeat, driving me. Relentless. Merciless. He made me a better competitor every day, but the world had become black and white: nothing but the game.
Everything for the game.
"This could be your year, son."Coach Kenbrough leaned back in his chair, arms folded over his chest. "Make a mark. Set yourself up for the draft."
But it had all been a lie.
Chapter Two
ELLA
