Page 14 of Lavender and Linebackers

Red flushes into his cheeks, down his neck, and Danica has finally had enough. Another one of the players wanders over, too. Chase Sullivan, otherwise known as Sully. He’s a legend on the team, and I feel a little starstruck.

“All good over here?” he asks. He glances at Ryder and then zeros in on Danica’s expression. She’s annoyed, which in turn has him standing a little taller.

“No,” Kelli tells him. “Someone needs to teach this Neanderthal some manners.”

God, I love her. But sometimes she needs to keep her mouth shut. The last thing we need is to call attention to ourselves.

“Rookie?” He pins Ryder with a glare that I would not want to be on the other side of.

Ryder says nothing, but stares right back at him.

“Sully, it’s fine,” Danica tells him, putting her hand on his arm. “I’m going to get a few recordings of Ryder and Alice working out together, him handing her a water, stuff like that, and then we’re done.”

Sully looks back and forth between us again, and I drop my gaze. I’m not a confrontational person.

“Do you want to film someone else? I’m certain Rico would eat this up,” he asks her, his tone softening.

“No, it has to be them.” She lets out a deep breath.

I wonder if the marketing team has talked about us? Did Gretchen say something to all of them about our less-than-friendly vibe toward each other? Has the rest of the team picked up on this too? Suddenly, I’m extremely embarrassed. How unprofessional. This is not how I want to be known or perceived on this team.

Sully’s brows shoot up and then smooth out. If he’s surprised by this, he doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t ask any more questions.

“We’re good,” I tell him. “Ryder already showed us the list.” He hasn’t. “He’s going to spot me on three of them, and then we’re done.” Why I suddenly feel like I have to defend us, I don’t know. But I’m not going to have his teammate cause any problems for him or for me.

I turn to face Ryder. “That’s a little too much weight for me. Can you set it for about one ten?”

“Got it,” he tells me, ignoring the others.

Danica lifts her phone to record him as he reloads the weights, but just as he reaches them, he turns back around and grabs a sealed water bottle I didn’t notice off the ground and hands it to me.

“Hydrate. Water is important for muscle function and recovery.”

I do as I’m told and take a sip.

He pulls a hand towel from his shoulder, steps into my personal space, and gently wipes my forehead. I guess old habits die hard. It’s tender. It’s unexpected. It becomes a moment that lasts a tad too long.

I can feel all of them watching us, but all I can do is watch him. His once familiar coffee-colored eyes scan over my features. Is he looking for changes in me like I’m looking for ones in him? What does he see when he looks at me?

It’s then that he blinks and remembers where we are.

He takes a step back, and his hand drops along with his thoughtful expression. Now he’s just scowling.

I’ve been around him three times. He’s hot, he’s cold, he’s mean, he’s nice. It’s like rolling dice, and you never know which side is going to land face up.

Sully lets out a deep sigh, and Ryder frowns even more as he faces him.

“Danica, I’ll catch you later,” he says, friendly. “Rookie.” His voice turns sharp as he starts to walk off. “Handbook.”

Chapter 6

Ryder

Iwas in the fifth grade when people began whispering about my talent on the field. My parents were still married at the time, and my dad was one of those dads. You know, over-obsessed, yelled too much from the sidelines, and essentially embarrassed me to the point I became numb. But it was because of the whispering that he used this as leverage to seek out the best private school in Tampa. Did I want to leave all of my friends behind and move to a new school not in my neighborhood? No. But as we watched the playoffs and then the Super Bowl together that year, he continually reminded me that the people at this school knew people. That I was heading to middle school, I’d be going to a new school anyway, and this school would make my dreams come true. To make him happy, I said yes and turned in my T-shirts and Jordans for a blazer and tie.

I loved making him happy. He was the best when he was laughing and rubbing his hand playfully in my hair. He didn’t hug me often, and I craved those moments when his attention was affectionate and not angry. As an adult now, I’ve thought a lot about what he had to be so angry about, and I don’t get it. My mother is wonderful. We lived in a nice house in a nice neighborhood, his job was going well, and he had friends. I can’t figure out why he chose to live miserably. Life is too short to be that discontented.

Now, the ironic part is that the private school didn’t tolerate his sort of personality or sideline behavior, and he found himself very quickly banned from attending games that fall season. I overheard him yelling at my mother about how they told him he wasn’t a good representation of the school. That he had been warned about the long-arm perception and reputation extended to the parents, which he failed. I never told anyone, but that was the best day of my childhood life. I loved my dad, but I hated how he talked to referees, coaches, and other parents at the games. I didn’t understand why he was like that either. My mother said he wasn’t always that way, but that’s the only way that I’ve known, and it was after he was finally gone from the school that things started to change.