Page 102 of Campus Heat

The guys were clearly disgruntled, but they did as they were told without putting up a fight. Then Harris nodded toward the second rack, which was slightly hidden behind the first. The screen fell to the ground, and my heart nearly leaped out of my chest. I blinked a couple of times to make sure I wasn’t seeing things, but no, it was very real.

Coach Harris had convinced them to replace our uniforms, too. Our new outfits followed the same blue and gold color scheme, but the design was sharper and more modern. The lines were cleaner, and the logos were embroidered instead of printed. And the fabric looked stronger and more athletic than the uniforms we had been wearing.

Jenna grabbed my arm and squeezed, “Are you seeing this?”

“They’re gorgeous,” one of the other girls whispered.

Harris stepped forward. “You’ve all worked your asses off this season. You didn’t get the wins, but you got something else. Something far more valuable. You became a team.”

He paused to look around the room. None of them laughed, and there were no arguments. They had just gotten quiet. I glanced over at the guys as well. Ethan sat in the second row, his fingers resting on the edge of the desk as he took in the uniforms like they were something precious.

“Every practice,” Harris continued. “Every loss and every bus ride was an opportunity for you to quit, but you didn’t. That was what the administration wanted to see.”

The room was so quiet you could hear the few nervous swallows that followed his words. It had quickly become clear that this wasn’t just a gift or a motivational speech. It carried more weight than we understood.

“The higher-ups will be watching tomorrow’s game very closely,” he said, and the weight of his words could clearly be heard. “They want to know if this program is worth investing in, and this game will be their deciding factor.”

My stomach churned. That was it. They were willing to give a little to see where it would lead them. It was the most disgusting thing I had ever experienced, considering that these guys had put everything on the line for this team.

“But I already know the answer,” Harris added, and his voice softened just a little. “Because I’ve seen the work you’ve put in. These are the first steps. The proof that this team is worth paying for. That you are worth fighting for.”

Cam raised his hand. “So… hypothetically speaking…”

Harris sighed, and a few of the other guys groaned.

“If we lose tomorrow… do we need to give our uniforms back?”

A few of the other players chuckled, but Harris’s expression darkened dangerously. He looked at Cam for a long moment, deciding how he was going to deal with the situation.

“If we lose tomorrow, the uniforms will be the least of our concerns,” he mumbled.

37

Ethan

The locker room had a nervous kind of energy that was unlike anything I had ever felt before. It wasn’t something we had in any of our other games, and it wasn’t like anything I felt at Stanford either. Those times were tense. This didn’t feel the same way. It was the last game of the season. Our last chance to prove that the months of losing, the brutal practices, and the endless film sessions actually meant something.

I took a seat on the bench in front of my locker and slowly turned my brand-new helmet in my hands. It was the first time I could actually look at it, and it still seemed too good to be true. The deep Havenport blue was polished so well that the overhead lights gleamed across its surface. The golden stripe was sharp enough to cut through our opponents. And the crest on the side left no doubt about who you were dealing with.

It had been a while since I felt this good in a team uniform, and that excited me. Across the room, Cam was already fully dressed. He was absently tugging at his gloves while admiring himself in the mirror above the sink.

“Okay,” he announced as he turned to face us. “Be honest. Do I look terrifying or handsome?”

Lucas didn’t even look up from lacing his cleats. “You look like someone who’s about to drop a pass.”

Cam’s mood instantly dropped. “That’s just rude.”

Dylan snorted from the next bench over. “They’re new uniforms, man, not superhero outfits. Don’t let them make you cocky.”

Cam spread his arms dramatically to show off his jersey, and I had to admit that I was impressed. The deep blue fabric looked sharp against the bold gold number on his chest.

“Tell me these don’t make us look like a real team,” he said proudly.

“They make us look expensive,” Lucas scoffed.

“That’s the same thing,” Cam countered.

I smirked as I finally set the helmet aside and started pulling my shoulder pads into place. The fabric felt stiff and clean, proving that the pads weren’t broken in. And everything smelled so new. The pads, the jersey, even the helmet still carried that faint plastic scent. It wasn’t something you wanted to break in during your final game, but for the first time in the entire season we didn’t look like a leftover team. We looked like the Highlanders.