Page 80 of Even Exchange

My heart constricts, lips parting. “Me?”

“Yeah,” he says, green eyes pinning me in place. “You.”

Breathe, girl, breathe.

“That’s pretty heavy stuff from a fake boyfriend,” I choke out.

“Well, I was your real best friend before I was your fake boyfriend,” he reminds me with a gentle smile.

“Right,” I say, biting my lower lip. “Well, if you ever want to talk about that stuff, you know, in the dark, on a rainy day, with all the curtains closed…” I release a shaky breath as his sad eyes capture mine. “I’m here.”

“I appreciate that.” A soft smile graces his face. “I appreciateyou.” I struggle for a response, and he stands, clearly ready for the conversation to be over. “Ready for lunch?” he asks, holding out a hand.

“Yep,” I say, placing mine in his, ready to follow wherever he leads.

16

NOAH

Blowing the whistle, I suppress my annoyance of having to coach Jonathan and his offensive line. It’s Friday, and I survived the entire week barely seeing him.Happy birthday to me.They’re scrimmaging against CBU, but when I walked to practice, I promised not to favor my alma mater, to ignore the names on the backs of the jerseys and approach it from an analytical perspective.

Jonathan pushes himself off the ground, given a CBU linebacker just blitzed him.Atta boy.He rips off his helmet and staggers towards the sidelines with the rest of the Andrews University offensive line. They’re actually not half bad, but it seems Jonathan’s as distracted by my presence as I am by his.

The players surround me, all awaiting my instruction as I grip a playbook in my hand.

“Your formation is good,” I tell them. “But your pass completion rate needs work.” Jonathan huffs out a sarcastic breath. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch,” I tell him, and his face reddens. “In case you forgot, quarterback isn’t the only position on the field. This is ateamgame.”

“Wow, what a revelation,” he says, and I bite my tongue.

Keep it professional.

I may be annoyed at this guy, but his team still deserves my attention and guidance.

“My point is, it doesn’t matter how good the quarterback is if the rest of the team isn’t in sync. A sloppy offensive line means you’re leaving holes open—not protecting your man.”

“Or maybe the man is too slow today,” one of the guys calls out.

“Even if that’s true…” I say, looking at the lineman. And it is. Jonathan’s taken about three seconds too long for every play. “It’s your job to afford him that time to make a pass or find a route.” I turn my attention to the running backs. “It’syourjob to shake the defenders and get open.” I speak to the team as a whole. “If there’s not an open route, or an open man, it doesn’t matter if you’ve got a D1 quarterback in a peewee football league. He can only do so much. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Coach,” they call out.

“Good!” I say, waving my arms. “You’re in field goal range, but I want a touchdown. So get back on the field and show me what you’ve got.”

Helmets are pulled on, mouth guards in place, chin straps hooked, and they’re jogging back out to the thirty-yard line. The defenders get in place, offensive line sets up, and I walk the edge of the field, watching them.

Jonathan shouts, “Hike!”

Center sends him the ball, and Jonathan shuffles backwards. The guards are holding position, a wide receiver bolting down field, a cornerback quick on his heels.

“Throw!” I shout, hoping Jonathan hears me.

He cocks his arm. The ball soars through the air, lands perfectly in the receiver’s arms, and he sprints it into the end zone.

Touchdown.

The Andrews U boys run and high five. A few players dance near the field goal post, and Jonathan holds his head high, walking towards the sideline.

“Thank you!” I shout. “Finally!”

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