Page 24 of Small Town Sizzle

“Is it hard to be back here?” Laura asks as she gestures to the football field.

Garrett doesn’t answer, and I can see Laura make a face out of the corner of my eye. I don’t have time to ask what that isabout because the whistle blows, signaling the start of the game, and my attention is solely on the field. Alex jogs out with his team, his number glaring proudly from his jersey. The crowd erupts into cheers, and I join in, clapping and hollering.

“Which one’s yours?” Garrett asks casually.

I glance back at him, annoyed that he’s interrupting my moment. “Number twelve. The quarterback.”

“He’s a freshman, starting quarterback,” Ethan says, beaming.

“What?”

I grin proudly and nod but turn my attention back to the football field. Alex, Mason, and the rest of the team are pure magic out on the field. Tonight is no different.

The first quarter flies by, with Alex making some great plays. Laura and I chat between cheers, but I can’t ignore Garrett’s presence behind me. I feel it every time he shifts, and his knee bumps my back. And worse, I hate how my body reacts—heat pooling in my chest, a flutter in my stomach.

I’ve never let a rude, annoying person get to me in this way before. What makes him so special?

Alex makes a spectacular throw that leads to a touchdown. I jump to my feet, cheering loudly.

“Nice arm,” Garrett says as I sit back down.

I glance back at him, surprised. “Thanks. He puts a lot of work in on and off the field.”

His smile is small but sincere, and for a moment, the tension between us eases. But then the whistle blows again, and the game pulls our attention back.

By the time the game is over, and Hicks Creek takes the win, I’ve almost managed to forget he’s sitting behind me.

Almost.

Get a grip, Maya. He’s hot, but he’s also a douche and you don’t need that in your life.

Chapter Seven

Garrett

The game had ended over an hour ago, but I’d gotten caught up talking with Gavin Wells, an old high school buddy who had an uncanny ability to stretch a five-minute conversation into forty-five. By the time I’d peeled myself away, the football field was almost completely dark and empty.

I walk up to the fence that lines the field. I can feel my chest tightening. It’s the first time I’ve stepped foot on this turf since that career-ending hit in my senior year of high school.

I can still hear the roar of the crowd, the way the entire stadium felt like it was alive, pulsing with energy. Senior year. State championship. My last game—the game that was supposed to seal my future. I see it all so clearly, like I’m still there, standing on that field with the lights shining down so bright they might as well be stars.

The air is charged with anticipation. My teammates slap my shoulder pads as we huddle, their eyes filled with fire.

“This is it,” someone says. “We finish this.”

I nod, gripping my helmet tighter.

Culver City has always been our biggest rival, today is no different. We’re ahead by a touchdown, but there’s still time left on the clock, and I know the other team is gunning for me. They always do.

I line up behind the center, scanning the defense. I can read them like a book—the way their linebackers shift, the way their safety inches forward, ready to blitz. They think they’ve got me figured out. They don’t.

The ball snaps into my hands, and everything slows down. I drop back, eyes downfield. Receivers cut across, looking for space. Then I see it—a gap, just big enough. Instinct takes over. I tuck the ball and run.

My cleats dig into the turf as I push forward, weaving through defenders. One step. Two. The end zone is within reach. And then—

Pain. White-hot and blinding.

A hit like a truck slamming into me at full speed. My body twists midair before crashing down onto the field. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I can’t feel my legs.

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