It takes several minutes to convince my body and the adrenaline coursing through my veins that we have to wait for the battle. This is the worst part. I wish we could get right on the field, but there’s shit that needs to happen, routines and traditions that need to be upheld.
Once I know I’m not going to climb out of my skin, I look into the stands. I doubt I’ll see Memphis, Waylynn, or Bates, but I still scan the crowd, searching. Strangers look back, many yelling and as excited as we are for the game.
By pure chance, as I start to look away, I see my number across a chest that’s shaking back and forth from waving so hard. “Fuck yeah!” I shove my hand in the air, and she bounces, making her tits jiggle even more when she realizes I spotted her. I watch her grab onto Memphis and point with such excitement, my chest expands to the point where I almost forget I need to exhale.
She’s looking at me like she looked at Bates that night at the club, but it’s sweeter. I fucking feel like I could fly. I rock my fist against my chest and send it out to her, and she balls up her hand, placing it over her lips.
“Line up!” gets shouted over the group several times, and I fall into place, bouncing on my toes, because I know her eyes are on me.Fuck, my dick is hard.
It’s tough waiting for my turn on the field, but I know my time is coming soon. Bevins just missed another play. “Gravlin, get your ass in there,” the defensive line coach says, jerking me forward by my collar and shoving me toward the field.
I don’t spare Bevins a glance as we pass each other, and I slip into my spot. My knuckles hit the sun heated ground, and I have to force myself to relax so I don’t jump the start.
When the cue hits, I explode, propelling myself forward. The guy in front of me barely gets his hands up before I spin past him and zero in on a chest. His arm is pulled back, ready for a pass. His helmet turns in my direction, so I know he sees me, but there’s not enough time for him to react before I’m on him. We hit the ground, and he grunts as I force the air from his lungs.
I pop up quickly and back away while his center helps him off the field and tells him, “Shake it off!” Our eyes connect, and when I see hate mingled with fear, I know I’ve got him. He’s going to rush his handoffs and passes for the next few plays.
I feel hands on me, congratulating me, but I don’t break our stare off until my knuckles are on the ground again and my eyes shift to the obstacle in front of me.
Waylynn
Memphis leapsto his feet and howls, “Hell yeah!” when Oswald slams into the guy about to throw the ball. I watch him jump up, getting back to his feet, and stare down the guy still lying on the ground. My heart is in my throat, but that was amazing.
“A sack on his first play of the game.” Bates taps his knuckles with Memphis’. “Showin’ up and showin’ out.”
Memphis claps his hands together, applauding with most of the people around us. It’s strange to hear people talking about Oswald, saying his name and number, but a sense of undeserved pride fills me just because I know him.
Memphis retakes his seat, but he’s only on the edge, and his eyes are glued to his brother as he prepares for the next play.
Oswald pushes the guy in front of him to the side with a quick shove and runs for the guy with the ball again, but this time, he throws the ball to the side, and Oswald stops before knocking him down. I look to where the ball was thrown, and it’s on the ground with no one around. He was just getting rid of it. A few of his teammates pat Oswald on the helmet and back as they rush off the field and other players fill their spots.
I relax a little, knowing he’s not out there, but I’m eager to see him play more. It’s weird.
* * *
Five minutes before halftime,we’re up by fourteen, and I decide I better make my way to the bathroom before it gets too busy. When I lean over to pick up my crutches, Memphis eyes me. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to pee before it gets too busy.”
He takes my crutches and stands up. I already know his intent.
“You don’t need to come,” I tell him.
He just looks at me instead of responding. I narrow my eyes and pout my lips at him, which he takes as an invitation to bite my lip. Anyone else would think he kissed me, but he didn’t. My stomach reacts to his affection, flipping with butterflies.
I glance around when he pulls back, wondering if anyone noticed. I don’t see anyone watching, but that doesn’t mean much. “Memphis,” I warn softly. He’s going to get himself in trouble.
“I thought you wanted to get going.” He lifts one brow. I click my tongue, knowing he’s going to ignore me, and settle my crutches under my arms. At least we’re not in the student section.
“Gah, I can’t wait to get rid of these things,” I grumble when I have to stop for the fifth time because I can’t get through the crowd.
“Gravlin, your brother is on fire out there,” someone calls loudly. Memphis lifts his chin in acknowledgement, but that’s about it.
A mixed group of guys and girls move closer as I’m stuck behind people trying to get into a food line.
“Hey, Memphis,” a feminine voice calls. I look up, even though I know I shouldn’t, and see the same girl he was sitting with when I joined them for dinner in the south quad. If I could slip away, I probably would, but my crutches make that nearly impossible in the heavy crowd.
“Damn, the kid’s phenomenal,” a guy says, making it possible for Memphis to ignore the girl and respond to him.
