Page 66 of The Americana Playbook

Like how I can’t stop thinking about kissing Fitz.

“If you get out of your head a little and let your body lead, you’ll be just fine,” Abby says as I dismount Bernard, leaning against the saddle.

The thing is, I did that at the bowling alley—led with my body—and I’m not sure it was the smartest decision because when I woke up, I could still feel my lips swollen and let myself lay in bed remembering how good it felt to get them that way. And days later, I’mstillthinking about it.

“I didn’t know you rode horses,” Lo says, pulling me out of this afternoon’s memory.

“I used to, when I was younger. I really just started picking it up again.”I reach forward, grabbing a chip to dunk in salsa when my phone dings. “I bet they’re almost here,” I say about Fitz and Josh, who are coming to meet us from the Rebels facility.

FITZY

Won’t be home until super late.

“Do they usually work this much during the off-season?” I ask, as I type back.

Lo sighs when I frown. “Usually not late night.”

Everything okay? Can I bring you home a quesadilla?

FITZY

No thanks. Having a bite with Coach now. Got film to watch.

“What’s your take on Coach Foller?” I ask her. She’s silent for a minute, so I expect maybe she doesn’t really have much of an opinion at all, which is fair. But when I look up from my phone, Lo isn’t quiet because she has nothing to say. She’s quiet because she’s chugging her drink and returns an empty glass to the table.

“He’s an asshole.” Lo sighs. “I mean, I guess all football coaches have to be assholes at some point, but Foller? He’s extreme. This is Josh’s fourth year with the Rebels. He comes home from practices and games ready to quit at least three times a week during regular season. The night before the Super Bowl he called and told me he didn’t think he had it in him to suit up.”

I widen my eyes. “Isn’t he the starting center? Why wouldn’t he play?”

Lo looks off to the side. “I mean, at some point enough is enough, you know? Josh is sensitive, I’m not denying that. But coaches should care about their players, especially someone like Josh who has given so much to the Rebels for years. He shouldn’t be, I don’t know what the word is. Scolded? Belittled?”

“Berated?” I offer.

Lo shrugs. “Maybe. This is professional football. These guys live and breathe the game. Trust me. All of them are tough enough on themselves in their own head. They don’t need their coaches to do that too. They’ve got to lift them up a little. Foller, he just keeps them down. And, okay, it’s football. You have to be mean in football. Players, coaches, all of them.” Lo waves her hand back and forth.

I purse my lips together. I’m not sure if you need to bemeanto play football more than you need to be tough and brave. And I’m not sure how a coach being mean to players makes them want to be either of those things.

“I know the whole story, how he was Fitz’s coach when he was a kid, and I’m sure he has his own stories to tell,” Lo continues. “But Foller makes Josh feel awful. And then it’s this cycle where Josh thinks Foller’s right. There’s enough damage done to these guys in this game. I don’t think coaches need to add to it.”

“They don’t,” I agree. For a moment, I wonder if it’s worth bringing up the investigation Fitz told me about, but I recall how short he was on the topic. I decide against it.

Something inside of me feels protective over Fitz and his feelings, even when they’re in support of someone I can’t stand, someone I worry isn’t good for him. And I guess that’s what I should be doing as his fiancé—supporting and protecting him—even if it doesn’t matter at the end of it all.

Lo looks over, getting our waiter’s attention when my phone chimes again.

FITZY

Actually, grab me a margarita to go

A roadie? That kind of night at the office?

FITZY

No. Just an excuse to have a night cap. Haven’t seen you since last night.

I can’t help it. My mouth melts into a smile.

“Oh, there’s that look.”

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