Page 64 of Off Limits

We all sit in silence, mud and rain still dripping from our jerseys, the towels we’ve grabbed to run over our faces and heads held limply in our hands. We deserve this dressing down, and we know it.

Coach crosses his arms and surveys the locker room. No one says a word. At last he lets out a soft sound of frustration, shakes his head, and says, “Hit the showers. See you on the bus in thirty minutes.”

Slowly, we all come to life as Coach leaves, stripping out of jerseys, pads, cleats, a low grumble of dissatisfaction starting up, a combination of complaints about Coach bitching us out even though we won and grumbling that we played like shit tonight and we’re lucky we pulled out the win.

I catch Jackson’s eye and give him a nod. “Nice interception, man.”

He nods back, wrapping a towel around his waist to head to the showers. “Thanks. Nice work tonight, too.”

Cal plops down on the bench next to me, dropping his shoulder pads on the floor. “He’s right. You were on fire out there. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your footwork better, and that was in ankle-deep mud.” He lightly punches my shoulder. “You’re a shoe-in for the combines if ever I saw one.”

I just shake my head and wave him off, not wanting to jinx anything. “We’ll see.” I’m not going to count on anything when it’s nowhere near a sure thing.

He scoffs. “Yeah, man. We’ll see. We’ll see you blow everyone’s socks off and get first round draft pick.”

That makes me laugh out loud, the sound causing all the grumbling to stop. I ignore the sudden silence, but someone laughing seems to be what we all needed as a team. When conversation resumes, it’s distinctly lighter with less grumbling.

I shake my head at Cal again. “We’ll see,” I repeat, and he drops it, thankfully, turning instead to plans for the weekend.

“My mom texted they’ll meet us by the player’s entrance. My sister and her roommate came to the game too.”

I duck my head so he doesn’t catch that I already knew Ellie was here tonight. I clear my throat to keep the smile that wants to break free off my face and out of my tone of voice. “Cool. Sounds good. I’m disgusting, so I’m still going to grab a quick shower here to rinse off the mud before we go.” But really, I can’t wait to see Ellie. Even if I have to keep my distance all weekend.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Ellie

“There they are!” my dad calls from the living room, drawing me out of my bedroom where I’ve been holed up with Autumn since we got back from the game. We met Cal outside of the locker room, and I handed over his keys so he and Simon could drive themselves, then Autumn and I came back with my parents. Not enough room in my parents’ old Subaru for six people plus football gear, especially when two of those people are small giants. Autumn and I’ve both taken quick, hot showers and changed into warm loungewear—sitting outside for hours in the cold rain left us all chilled to the bone—in the time it took for the guys to get their shit together and get here.

“We have hot chocolate for everyone!” Mom calls from the kitchen. Autumn trails behind me as we make our way out to the living room.

Despite my parents hailing the coming of Simon and Cal like they’re conquering heroes returning home, the guys don’t look much like victors.

“Way to pull out the win there at the last,” Dad says.

“Didn’t have much to do with it,” Cal grumbles.

Dad stands and claps Cal on the shoulder, making him stop and look up. “Hey. You’re part of the team. You win together, and you lose together. Every man on a team is important.”

Cal nods, though he doesn’t look cheered up much by Dad’s encouragement. “We’re gonna put our stuff away. C’mon, Simon. We’re down here.” He jerks his head toward the hall that Autumn and I are blocking.

We step aside, and Simon gives me a beautiful smile—it’s small, his full lips curling up, but I feel it all the way down to my toes—before following Cal down the hall, both of them towing rolling suitcases behind them.

“Hopefully once he warms up, he’ll be in a better mood,” Mom says, ever the optimist. “Ellie, come help me get the hot chocolate ready, please. Autumn, make yourself at home.”

Autumn gives me a wide-eyed look as I follow my mom into the kitchen, but she doesn’t follow. My dad starts asking the standard questions all adults ask of college students—what’s your major, where are you from, how are classes—even though he really ought to know the first two, since he asked those when he and Mom helped me move into the dorm in August. But I’ve come to the realization that no one really listens to your answers to those questions, so they don’t remember by the next time you see them, even if it’s only been a day, much less two months.

Mom has six mugs lined up on the counter already and hands me the canister of hot chocolate mix before filling the kettle and setting it on the stove to heat up.

“So,” Mom says as I begin scooping the mix into the mugs.

“So,” I repeat.

“You and Autumn seem to be getting along well.”

I nod. “Yup. She’s a good roommate and a good friend.”

“That’s good. Sometimes living together can strain a friendship.”

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