He finished up with Special Teams, giving Lucas the call for punting duty.
I glanced at Colin, who leaned forward in his seat to congratulate his friend. My irrational jealousy made me see red.
“Okay, offense hit the weight room. Defense on the field. Let’s work on Zone 2 coverage. Houston loves those deep passes.”
Standing, I headed to the locker room to get my helmet. Colin was a few paces behind me, talking to a couple of free agents vying for a spot. He had bitched and moaned about all the equipment so much I was sure he was doing it to get a reaction out of me.
His invitation to them to go out for a beer made me even more irritable. So much so that I snapped at him on the field at the end of practice after he lapsed back into his rugby days and grabbed the receiver by the face mask and took them both to the ground.
I threw my head back, then ripped off my helmet. I was like a volcano, ready to spew lava everywhere, then lost total control and paced around him, gesturing widely with my hands. I knew I was overreacting, but I couldn’t stop myself. It was a release of all the pent-up frustration I’d bottled up all week.
“God damn it, how many times do I have to tell you that you can’t do that? This is not rugby. It’s foot-ball.”
Colin had taken off his helmet while I ranted, then stood with his arms crossed, smirking at me. “You must have skipped that rule. I’m not a tosser.”
I stopped my tirade and got in his face. “I skipped nothing. What the fuck does that mean?”
Colin stepped closer, closing the last bit of distance between us. I could feel his breath on my face, and holy fuck, I recognized that look. My eyes widened as he leaned in. “Idiot.”
No, no, no, no. Before I could stop him, he grabbed my face and kissed me on the nose. And to my horror, everyone went silent, except for the gasps.
He’d made a bigger spectacle than the one at the airport. If anyone caught that on camera, we were fucked.
“Why do you keep doing that in public?” I seethed through gritted teeth. “What’s wrong with you? You’re a tosser. You’re every tosser to ever toss!”
I don’t think that made sense, but it didn’t matter. He understood and found me hilarious, to the point of doubling over with laughter. But I didn’t find it funny. At all.
“I give the fuck up!” I yelled, throwing my hands in the air.
I had to get out of there before I did something we’d both regret.
Grabbing my helmet from the ground, I headed toward the locker room, only to find Lennox and Evan standing outside the tunnel, mouths hanging open from the scene with the asinine Aussie I couldn’t stop wanting.
God, he infuriated me like no one ever had, and I didn’t know what to do with him.
“Hey, buddy,” Lennox said. “How’s it?—”
“Fuck off Lennox.”
Immediately, I regretted popping off at him, but that was what Colin had reduced me to. But my friend understood the stress I was under, so I’d apologize to him later.
“Good talk, buddy. You need to go cool off somewhere. Like Canada.”
Normally, I would have found his quip funny, but at the moment, I needed to get out of everyone’s view. To make thingsworse, it rattled me that just his lips on the tip of my nose made me hard as a fucking post.
When I made it to my stall, I tossed my helmet inside, then sat down in the chair. Burying my hand in my wet hair, I tried to calm myself down.
The best thing I could do was avoid him until I wouldn’t take his fucking head off. And that was what I did until he pushed me a little closer to the breaking point during the game the next day when he kept taking his fucking helmet off.
Again, I lost my shit on him, but hopefully not as dramatically as practice. But the ref approached me during a TV time-out to find out what was going on.
“Why does he keep doing that? I’m gonna have to throw a flag if he can’t keep his equipment on,” he explained.
I propped my hands on my hips and tried to calm down. “I understand, but he’s a rookie and a rugby player. They don’t wear any protective gear.”
Fortunately, the man was sympathetic to my predicament. “I’ll let it slide this time, but if he does it again, I have no choice. I’m gonna go explain that to your coach.”
I nodded. “Thank you. I’ll handle it, even if I have to duct tape it to his fucking head.”
