Page 9 of Off Sides

He just handed it to him.

“Oh yeah, my ass is still sore.” His words do exactly what I think he intended. It shocks me stupid, and then my thoughts go straight to his ass. That perfect, tight . . . Nope. Stop, Calvin. “But you proved your point,” he continues.

“And that is?”

“That you don’t like that Micah put me into the QB1 position. That you’re pissed off.”

My lips form a solid, thin line. It’s strange hearing Coach being called by his first name, but I move on. “I don’t care what he does. It’s none of my business, now that I’m not on the team anymore.”

His eyes actually roll around in his head at me, and he cocks his head to the side. “Oh please.” I try not to show any emotion at all, but I’m surprised he’s calling me out. He smirks again, knowing he hit the target. “You’re still very much a part of that team.”

“I’m really, really not,” I say because who the hell is this guy?

“You really . . .”—he leans in too close, way too close—“really are.” I can smell the soap from the locker room showers on him and see that dimple way too up close as he moves into me, sending my body on hyperdrive. All my senses react at once. Anger. Fear. Lust. More fear.

I’m struck stupid. I can’t seem to form words as I stare at him, and he stares right back, studying me. Seeing right through me. Like he knows . . .

I clear my throat and take a big step back that I’m not proud of. But I can’t be held responsible for what I’d do if he got any closer to me. “Why do you care? Why are you here? You did it. You’re QB1. You’re starting quarterback this year. You got your way.”

He snorts at that, and once again I’m taken off guard. “Look, none of this is my way.” I open my mouth to ask him what that means, but then quickly close it again. And that seems to be fine because he’s already continuing. “I wanted to play in the same town where I started playing. I wanted to take us to state for my senior year and then go off to college and kick ass there. But my dad kicked me out, and this is where I wound up.”

I want to ask him why his dad kicked him out. I want to jump to conclusions . . . but I don’t. I force myself not to ask. I don’t care. I don’t, I keep telling myself. “Even your old man couldn’t stand you? I get it,” I say cruelly, but Jonah just chuckles.

“He couldn’t for most of my life, but he tolerated me. Until he didn’t.”

It makes me think of my own father—and my brother. And my grandfather. The thoughts are unwelcome. “Go away,” I say coldly. “I don’t want to play.”

“You love football.”

I do. “You don’t know me at all. How are you so sure?”

“Because between those big, sweaty guys plowing me down on the field, I could see it in your eyes.” Okay, did he really have to put it that way? And the way he’s smirking at me right now tells me he knows exactly what he’s doing. Seriously, who is this guy? Talking like that with that teasing hint? It’s going to get him in trouble around here really damn fast. “You love it like I love it. And it’s your senior year. You’re going to tell me you don’t want to play the game you love the most for your senior year?”

I swallow thickly, my throat so full of disappointment and sadness, I nearly choke on it. Of course I want to play. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. I do love football. I have since I could pick up a damn ball and watch it on television with my brother, dad, and grandfather.

I love the smell of fall in the air and the crisp grass. I love getting to ram my body against someone else’s with full force and stop them from getting to my quarterback.

But he’s not my quarterback.

“Coach said I’m done.”

Again with the dismissive little snort and a wave of his hand. “Please, Micah didn’t want to kick you off the team. He was pissed. You were pissed. I have it on good authority that if you show up tomorrow at practice, you’ll be welcomed.”

“He lied,” I say, angry at myself for engaging.

“He didn’t.” Jonah sighs, pushing a hand through his wet hair nervously before letting it fall to his side. “I asked him not to introduce me. He wanted to talk to you all about it, but I wouldn’t let him. I should have because Micah is straightforward and honest. He never would have kept it from you.”

“But he did.” My eyes narrow. “For you.”

“He’s my brother.” He says it like that explains everything. I think about Curtis and the relationship we have. Has he ever once had my back? Not really. No way he’d stand up for me if he knew who I really was. The secret I’ve hidden.

I’m sure he’s heard rumors. Hell, he’s taken the opportunity at every chance to let me know just how he feels about men like me . . . But he’s never actually called me on it. Not yet.

If he ever knew for sure . . . if he ever caught me in my lie . . . there’s no way in hell he’d have my back.

“Exactly,” I say. “He’s your brother, and that’s why you’re starting quarterback.”

His eyes roll at me again. “I’m starting quarterback because my brother is smart as hell and a damn good coach. And . . . ambitious. He knows I can take you all to state, and he wants it.”