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“Love? Who’s in love?” Now we’ve got the entire offensive line joining the conversation.

“Prib here has found his dream girl.” Beiler teases. He ain’t wrong though.

“Big tits?” Three of them ask at the same time. Apparently, I have a type. Beiler raises his hands, bowing out of the convo now that it’s taken a turn. I chuckle as he puts his fingers in his ears and la-la-la’s down field to join the other coaches.

“Who is it? One of the freshman cheerleaders has a big rack? I didn’t notice anyone—” Gill interrupts Hall with a smack to the back of the head.

“Who you looking for? The cheerleaders ain’t even out here right now.” Gill shakes his head at our linemate, then shifts his focus to me. He smirks, his eyes drifting over my shoulder, his lips stretching into a broad and obnoxious smile.

“Hey, water girl!” My entire body locks up tight. Forcing myself to move slowly, I turn around to see Phia checking that the water jugs are secure on their cart. She smiles at Gill with a small wave but continues working. Now that practice is over, she’s got to wheel everything back inside, clean it, dry it, and put it away.

Scowling, I glare at Gill. I don’t think I like how she smiles at him. I want her to smile at me. She’s wearing navy blue shorts and a white team polo, the usual uniform for periphery staff. The way her shirt stretches over her chest has my mouth watering. And I’m not complaining about how she fills out those shorts. Good. God. Damn.

“Oh. I get it now.” Hall whispers loudly. He winks at me, then walks off the field toward the locker room.

“Dude.” I breathe deep, begging the universe for patience. I don’t move; looking at Yanok out of the corner of my eye. He’s one of the few on the team that I don’t mesh well with. We just don’t vibe. He doesn’t vibe with anyone, really, but he’s not a bad player. Just a douche. Case in point… “I know you’re benching 235 in the gym; didn’t know you were doing it in the bedroom too.” He snorts, laughing at his own joke, and missing the way the others remain silent in tense anticipation.

I watch Phia jerk in response to his comment. He wasn’t quiet. She shrugs it off, kicks off the brake on the cart and begins wheeling it off the field. I turn my back to her and get nice and close to Yanok. He stiffens slightly, his breathing shallow and fast. My eyes trained over his shoulder, I lean down and speak slowly and clearly. “Whether I am interested in her or not, you ever speak like that about a woman, especially a member of our team…I will shove a football so far down your throat, you’ll start clucking when you shit it out like an egg.”

His head swivels to meet my eyes. He swallows hard at whatever he sees in my expression. “I was just joking.”

Gill pats me on the back, then grips my shoulder and draws me back. He stands between Yanok and I. “Well, if we’re joking about sensitive personal subjects, let’s discuss that tiny, disappointing dick you keep in your pocket that’s left most of the cheer squad underwhelmed.”

“Fuck you, Gill. I wasn’t saying anything Coach hasn’t already said.”

I shove Gill out of the way and step toe to toe with Yanok. “What. Did. Coach. Say?”

“He said…uh…well…I don’t remember what he said.” He avoids eye contact, his face flushing as he tries and fails to come up with a believable lie to save face. For him and Coach.

“Bullshit.” I spit in his face. Coach Heacock is past his prime. Unfortunately, rumor has it the board is unable to remove him without severe financial penalty unless he commits a crime or is caught violating the school’s conduct code. No “he said, she said”, it must be irrefutably documented.

“Showers!” Beiler shouts in our direction, sparing Yanok from an ass beating. I take my time gathering my equipment, stalling until Beiler and I are walking into the locker room alone.

“He’s got to go.” Beiler knows exactly who I’m talking about; Coach Heacock isn’t a favorite among the team. I’ve been here long enough, Brandon Beiler is not just my offensive coach, he’s a mentor and like a big brother to me.

“We’re working on it.” I glance at him, noticing his clenched jaw.

“Work faster.”

By the time I’m done in the showers, pretty much everyone is gone. I dress in sweats, t-shirt, slides, and hat. Bag over my shoulder, I toss my towel in the laundry bin and pull out my phone as I walk out of the locker room. I’m passing the corridor to Coach’s office and hear his raised voice. I look up briefly from my text messages, expecting one of my teammates or another coach. I did not expect Phia, standing in Coach’s doorway, her face set, eyes blazing from 15 feet away. She glances at me, for only a second, but it’s enough for her tanned complexion to redden, her arms crossing her chest defensively.

“I’ve been told you’re a fucking genius, well, I got news for them. Geniuses don’t clog up the sidelines! They don’t get in the way of the players! They pay attention and do their fucking jobs without being heard or seen!” That’s a load of horseshit. She wasn’t inanyone’s way during the game. Not a single complaint from any players about her. “If you can’t find a way to be fucking invisible during Saturday’s game, I don’t give a fuck what the board thinks, you’re gone!”

Out of sight of Coach, Phia raises her hand in my direction. I realize with a start that I was already moving to defend her. Frozen to the spot, anger boiling my blood, I curse myself. Dammit! I didn’t record him. Phone in my hand and I don’t get his tirade on film.

Phia grits her teeth, snaps, “Yes, sir,” then spins around and stomps down the hallway. She passes me in stony silence, taking my breath with her. I jog to catch up with her.

“Phia—”

“Don’t.” She looks up at me and my heart seizes in my chest at the unshed tears glittering in her eyes. “Just don’t.” Outside the doors of the complex, I stop, watching powerless as she walks across the parking lot, disappearing in the direction of some off-campus apartments.

I walk home to my apartment, my mind replaying the shit with Yanok on the field, the Coach, the way she held strong and kept it together when most people would have broken down. Phia Kerr is an interesting woman.

Phia 3.

Inconspicuous. Invisible. Out of sight.

Do you know how difficult it is to be any of those things on the sideline of a college football game? People are constantly moving, following the plays, players finding their specific position coaches, getting water, pissing, practicing…and I’m expected to not get in anyone’s way?

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