Page 4 of Hard Count
I glance over my shoulder and do a double take. If it isn’t the girl from the bar sitting off to the side in one of the middle row bleachers. Our practices are open but very few people come to watch us at seven in the morning when it feels like it’s a hundred million degrees outside.
I stare her down with my arms crossed over my chest. “What’s her deal?”
“I’ve never seen her before,” Eli answers the question I didn’t realize I asked outloud.
“I don’t know but I’m going to find out,” Trey replies. He takes a few steps across the field toward her and for some unexplainable reason it angers me. I can’t blame the guy for being interested. She’s a stunner.
She’s not wearing a hat today and her long golden-blonde hair is pulled back in a high ponytail. She’s in a cropped workout tank and running shorts. I’m fucked if this is what she looks like after a run.
Coach blows his whistle requesting our attention. His gaze flicks to our guest before staring each of us down. “Let’s go. Line it up,” he shouts, giving the girl in the stands one last glance. He’s never complained about girls showing up at our practices. If anything we perform better, subconsciously trying to impress our audience.
I put my helmet on as we file onto the field and line up against the defense. Typically we run through a few plays with our starters and then pull our backup players out for the afternoon practice.
Scanning the defense, I note any shifts in their formation. The only thing that causes alarm is Trey making eyes at the blonde in the stands. He’s paying more attention to her than what I’m about to do on the field. “Red twenty-one,” I signal the line to watch Trey. He’ll be easy to beat in a foot race since he’s too busy thinking about what he wants to do after practice.
“White eighty,” I shout and Marcus, our center, snaps the ball. Lucas burns past Trey as predicted and I rocket launch the ball toward the end zone. He easily makes the catchwith Trey at least ten yards behind him and runs it into the end zone.
“You should have had that,” Eli scolds Trey as they line up again. “Stop staring at the bleachers. You wouldn’t do that on game day. Don’t do it at practice. You’re wasting our time.”
“If she’s in attendance, I would definitely be looking at her on game day. She has legs that were made to be wrapped around my waist,” Trey says, staring at her.
“Enough,” I shout. This is exactly why I kept my sister away from my teammates. It only took one party my freshman year to learn that while these guys might be good football players, they don’t deserve to breathe the same air as someone like my sister. “Watch your mouth.”
“You might wear the mark of captain on your jersey but you’re not the boss of me. Don’t be jealous because she keeps looking at me.”
I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s getting under my skin. I’m feeling itchy and agitated. Is she watching him? Why does that bother me? Why is she even here? Questions keep rolling through my head as we set up the next play.
“What do you want to do, Nash?” Lucas asks when we huddle.
We’re back on our thirty yard line. “Are you tired yet?” I ask him.
“I can go again.”
“Run left blue forty-two.”
“Are you sure?” Adrian, one of our running backs, asks. Does he think I’m weaker throwing from the left side too?
“Yes, do you doubt me?”
He shakes his head. “I’ve never doubted you. Do you doubt you?” he asks, with a lift to his eyebrows. I shake my head knowing full well there's doubt building below the surface every second.
We get into position and the girl in the stands scoots to the edge of her seat. Our eyes meet and a shockwave tears through me. Her words swim inside my brain as I call the play.He overthinks. He hesitates. He plays scared.
I feel like I’m sleepwalking as I run through the motions. I blink and my second of hesitation is all it takes. I rotate my arm forward to release the ball as Trey charges toward me. The ball falls out of my hand and I’m knocked on my back.
“Late hit,” one of our defensive coaches calls from the sideline and begins to reprimand Trey.
“You good, man?” Eli offers me a hand and helps me off the turf.
I ignore him and head straight for Trey who’s walking back onto the field. “What the fuck was that?” I ask, pushing against his chest.
“Come on. Don’t be mad. It’s not like that’s the first time you’ve been knocked on your ass.”
“My arm was already going forward and you know it. You’re showboating for some girl instead of keeping your teammate's safety in mind,” I say, pointing at her.
“I barely touched you.” He knocks his helmet against mine and presses into me. We’re about the same height but I have an inch and a few pounds of muscle on him. I’ve had anissue with a teammate once before. Even that never came to blows.
But for some reason, this situation with the mystery girl from the bar has me charged with an infinite amount of fury and I’m ready to tear his helmet off his head.
