I rub my hand along his cheek. “Okay, then I’ll play.”
“It’ll be fun. You won’t regret it.” Ford kisses my palm and then sits up, holding another condom. “Can we go again? Or are you too sore?”
I grab his shoulders, pulling him down to me. “Again.”
I’m standing on the sidelines watching Piper try to hike the ball back to Leah. She’s having a hard time. When she manages to get it, Leah has trouble catching the ball. Most of the time, she fumbles it. “Why do they keep pitching the ball? They need to have Leah stand right behind Aubrey so she can hand her the ball. It would solve half of their problems.” I huff, turning and looking at Jack.
“How about because they’re the opposing team, and we want them to lose.”
I point out to the field. “But you’re her boyfriend.”
“Ford!” Jack shouts, walking away from me. Whatever, I was just trying to be nice and helpful. I thought the point of this game was to have fun.
“Clark!” Ford yells, coming to stand next to me.
I turn around, plastering the sweetest smile on my face. “Yes, Coach Cross?”
He rolls his eyes. I think it has more to do with my snarky tone than calling him coach. “It’s our ball.” I glance at the field and see girls running off and others running on.
“Oh, right. I’m going.”
“Wait.” He grabs my flag belt, pulling me back.
“What, now?”
“You might try passing the ball to June or Ella.”
“I’ve tried. They drop it every time. It’s just easier to keep it.” I point to the scoreboard. “It’s 56 to 6. We’re winning because of me. The refs haven’t even had to help us cheat.”
“Since we’re ahead by so much, how about you let the other girls try to make a touchdown? Try a bluebird special.”
“Fine.” I huff. “Maybe I’ll go play with the juniors. They can’t even hike the ball.”
I’m the last one in the huddle. “Coach Cross wants a bluebird special.” Everyone just stares at me. Really? All these girls went to the practice Monday night, and we practiced for over an hour tonight before the game. The guys gave them four plays to learn, but it’s clear no one has any idea what I’m talking about. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do.”
We take way too long in the huddle, but the referees don’t penalize us, which is nice of them. We line up. I have Ella on the far right side and June on the far left. A senior named Debbie Christensen is playing center. She’s a decent player. She plays varsity volleyball and basketball, so she knows how to handle a ball. “Okay, here we go!” I yell. “Ready…set…” I glance at both Ella and June and nod. “Hike!” Debbie pitches me the ball, and there’s a flurry of motion. Some of the juniors are fast. Especially Aubrey. I glance at everyone and see Ella has gotten downfield, so I take off to the right. When Ella sees me running toward her, she slows down, and I hand off the ball to her. She takes off down the field. Aubrey comes up beside me, and I grab her flag, so she can’t get Ella’s, and Ella makes it into the end zone. She screams and jumps for joy, and her friends rush down the field, hugging her. They do some little dance they must’ve made up.
I glance at the coaches, point to Ella, and give them a thumbs up. Ford, Jack, and Beckett just shake their heads. I raise my arms, exasperated. I don’t know why they’re so upset. I did what they asked. I mean, technically, it was an illegal play. In anactualgame, the quarterback couldn’t run that far downfield and then hand off the ball. “What! I did what you asked.” I glance at Ella and her friends, who are still smiling and laughing about it.
“Clark, you can’t do that,” Beckett says.
“She knows,” Jack and Ford say together.
“I know.” I huff at the same time as them. “But they don’t. They thought it was great.”
“You were dead set against playing until last night. What did Ford do to convince you?” Jack asks.
“Uh—” All last night’s memories flood my brain. I’m not telling him the real reason. “I lost a bet.” Which I guess might technically be true.
Ford chooses that moment to walk past us. “Dude!” Jack hits his shoulders.
“What?” Ford asks, looking confused.
“Stop making bets with Clark.” Jack huffs, walking away.
Ford’s lips form an O, and he nods. “Do you want to be done?”
“Really? You won’t be mad?”
