Ethan is already dressed and geared up, like I'd predicted, as are almost all our teammates when I get to the locker room. My friend huffs and makes a sour face, but doesn't say anything when I stop next to him and open my locker, pulling out my uniform in a hurry.
"Nice of you to grace us with your presence, Hayes," our captain says, also looking at me in disapproval. I give him back a sheepish smile.
"My bad, I got a flat tire," I invent, taking advantage of the fact that I'm pulling the shoulder pads over my head and can't look Maddox in the eyes. "It won't happen again."
"It sure won't, or I'll put you on the bench," it's the coach's voice that answers this time, walking into the locker room with his usual closed-off face. I swallow hard, because I know Adam Frank never argues about a punishment.
In general, I liked Frank a lot as a coach. He'd been a good NFL player, until he was forced to retire at thirty-five because of a knee injury. He'd been coaching the Royals for about five years and knew strategy really well. On top of that, he was great at keeping everyone in line and giving their best, that's because he was mad as hell and didn't hesitate to leave anyone on the bench for weeks as a way of teaching a lesson.
"Yes, coach, sorry," I say, lowering my head. I put on the shirt and out of the corner of my eye I see Ethan is even more sulky. I control an eye roll because the guy really needs to ease up on this habit of trying to control everything.
Frank goes over the rival team's lineup with us, the Hudson Valley Vipers, and also our game strategy while I finish lacing up my low-cut cleats. Almost like clockwork, I'm ready right as the coach ends his speech, wishing us a good game and heading out toward the field.
You can already hear the excitement of the crowd out there. Frosthaven being such a small town, basically everything revolves around the university, and football is considered the main attraction at every game. People showed up in droves on Saturdays, sporting team shirts, flags with the blue bull symbol, and plenty of energy to shout for us throughout the whole match. It was incredible and gave us a lot of energy and confidence. The beat of the drums and of thousands of feet against the bleachers seemed to resonate straight into my heart and get me ready for battle.
Fuck, how I loved football. If college was like this, imagine what the NFL would be like? It was my biggest dream and I wouldn't spare any effort to get there.
Maddox stops in front of the door leading to the hallway and delivers his brief, usual pep talk.
"Let's go, Royals. Play with everything. No fear. No brakes. Play like it's the last time. And leave this field certain you left it all out there!" he bellows, and the whole team shouts in agreement. The captain then throws the double doors wide open and stands to one side of them, giving a slap on the shoulderof each guy who passes by him. Mine is especially hard, which makes me crack a little smile.
The shouts outside get louder and louder as we get closer to the field, and I feel taken over by pure energy. One of the cheerleaders is at the exit, carrying pots of red and blue paint in her hands, and she seems to almost vibrate with joy. She must be new, because I don't recognize her. And I know almost every cheerleader intimately.
The girl with dark eyes, brown skin, and braided hair tied up in a ponytail paints the faces of Ethan and Dennis, our quarterback, and reaches me with a huge smile, which I return immediately.
"Blue or red?" she asks, and I take the chance to look her up and down a little shamelessly.
"Whatever you think suits me best, princess," I flirt, and she lets out a nervous little laugh. I hear Ethan huff in front of me and I smack his back with the helmet in my hand, which earns me a loud "son of a bitch!" The girl looks at us in confusion, but then seems to decide to ignore our nonsense, dips her finger in the blue paint, and comes closer to me.
"Blue to match your eyes," she says as she paints a line on each cheek. It's really hard not to smile at the returned flirting, since it could ruin the whole paint job, but I give her a little wink, and she lets out another little laugh and moves away.
I've already got someone to go after once I win this game and maybe kill the insane arousal that's been building up since the events I pretend didn't happen.
I shake my head to make the memory disappear and go back to focusing on the now. I put on the helmet and mouthguard and let the crowd's chanting carry me again. Trey shows up with the team flag and takes his place at the front of everyone. He slams the flag on the ground and bellows:
"WE ARE..."
"ROYALS!" the rest of us shout back, and it's repeating that phrase that we finally head out onto the field. The crowd starts chanting the same and waving the little blue flags, living up to their nickname of "the Blue Reign," and that's how I know I'm in the best place in the world.
Chapter 15
Ethan
I could still feel the energy of the win running through my veins and it seemed kind of surreal that we'd pulled it off. We were in the last seconds of the final quarter and the Vipers had tied it up with a touchdown and a two-point conversion, leaving the score at 31-31. But then the magic happened: with seventeen seconds left, Logan made a spectacular catch on the sideline, putting us in field goal position. On the next play, I managed to run ten yards and the clock stopped at two seconds. Just two seconds! But it was enough for Johnny to hit a forty-seven-yard field goal. And that's how we won 34-31.
Fuck, it had been way too incredible.
I catch myself remembering those last seconds several times during the celebration party. The only downside is that now Johnny was acting like he was Superman, but I'd put up with his ego tonight.
Mostly because he'd already vanished from my sight. He must be in some room already, since twice as many girls threw themselves at him after the win. Fine by me, because it meant I could call Charlie, which is exactly what I do as I step out of the Kappa Delta house, Dennis Foreman's fraternity, which always ended up hosting the team's victory parties. Or for any other reason the quarterback could come up with to gather people and drink.
It's already past ten at night, but the girl answers on the second ring.
"Good evening, kitten," I greet, and I hear the melodious laugh on the other end.
"Good evening, player. I heard you guys won today, congrats," she congratulates, and I smile.
"Thanks. It was a last-minute win, but it was incredible. Did you watch?"
