Page 97 of Colliding with Ten

I chuckled.

Lennox

I’ll take it

Goodnight, Callahan.

I put the phone on the nightstand and looked at the ceiling again. The Hawks were coming to town. She was coming.

Music and laughter filled the locker room. We beat the Hawks by fifteen, exploiting every weakness, and dominated the second half on defense. Guys were already talking about next week and our playoff positioning.

A speaker blasted rap music, and DeShaun, an offensive lineman twice my size, was doing a post-victory dance that involved more hip movement than I was comfortable witnessing.

I showered, dressed, and checked my phone. A text from my father: Good game, son. Your mother is already organizing the food. A text from my mother: Your father cried during the fourth quarter. He’ll deny it, but I have a video. I smiled and put the phone away.

Jace was at his locker, dressed up like he was going to celebrate. He pointed at me. “Great game. But you owe me for that third-quarter touchdown.”

“That was a good throw.”

“I caught it in triple coverage. With a man draped on my back like a cape.”

“Double coverage.”

“It felt like triple.”

“Feelings aren’t facts.”

He shook his head. “I’m unappreciated every week.”

I grinned at him, grabbed my bag, and headed out. I walked in the corridor that connected the home and away sides. The visiting team was loading buses.

Ayla was near the visiting tunnel, packing tape into a bag. Her hair was tied back, different from the bun she’d worn during the game. She’d showered and changed into jeans and a shirt that lay across her shoulders, baring her collarbone. The same collarbone I’d been trying not to think about during warm-ups. It took up fifteen percent of my brain during the second quarter, when I should’ve been reading the safety rotation.

She saw me coming. First, there was surprise, then a smile, and a careful neutrality around the other members of her team.

She tucked her phone into her back pocket. “Congrats.”

“Thank you.”

“Jace’s catch in the third quarter was so good.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t tell him, and he thinks I don’t appreciate him.”

She smiled, and I forgot what I’d been planning to say, delaying my next thought.

“My parents are here.”

“That’s nice.”

“They tailgate at home games. My dad sets up a grill in the parking lot and acts like he’s running a restaurant. My mom supervises and criticizes his technique.”

She looked amused.

“I’m going to meet them.” I paused, keeping my voice casual, as if I hadn’t thought about it since last week. “Can you come?”

She reared back. “To dinner?”

“Yes.”