Page 18 of Game On
“No worries. I’ll guide you through it. Let’s start with some basic hands,” he suggests, positioning himself.
Luke steps up behind me, giving a reassuring nod. “I’ll be right here, Ella. Just focus on your stunts and trust us.”
The transition is nothing short of jarring. The first few attempts are clumsy, my hands searching for the familiar grip of two other bases, only to find Ash’s steady hold. He’s strong, obviously capable, but it’s a mental block I’ll need to work through.
We start slowly, working on getting used to his hands as my only contact point. His palms are warm and callused, providing both an odd comfort and the thrill of something new.
With Luke spotting, I feel more secure, and we progress gradually, from simple tosses to shoulder stands. Even though the initial awkwardness doesn’t completely fade away, there’s a rhythm developing between us now. A sort of budding trust that tells me I’ll be able to find my footing here.
“You’re doing great,” Luke says, his voice steady and encouraging. “Just keep your core tight.”
We slowly, painstakingly, work our way up to more advanced stunts, progressing from shoulder level to arms fully extended, two-handed stunts. Then, a single attempt at a one-arm lib brings a whole new wave of pressure.
Each time I’m lifted into the air, there’s a moment of sheer panic before I remember Luke’s there, ready to catch me if I fall. But it’s not just about trust; it’s about relearning my own balance, adjusting in more ways than one.
“Tighter, Ella. Trust that I’ve got you,” Ash instructs after a particularly shaky landing. His hands are firm on my waist, steadying me. “Again?”
I nod, determined not to let my frustration show, reminding myself that failure is a part of growth. We go up again, and this time I focus on keeping my core engaged, and on the feel of Ash’s hand guiding me through the motion. It’s better, not perfect, but there’s a thrill in the improvement. A spark of excitement that maybe I can get the hang of this sooner than I thought.
After several more attempts at the one-arm lib, with each one slightly better than the last, we take a break. Ash flops down onto the mat, patting the spot next to him. I sit, trying to catch my breath.
“It’s a different beast, isn’t it?” he says, his tone light.
“Yeah, it really is. But it’s … fun, I think. Once you get past the sheer terror,” I joke, and he gives a warm laugh in response.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be caught up in no time. And hey, if you can handle this after just one day, imagine where you’ll be by the start of the season.”
His confidence in me, unwarranted as it may seem, lifts my spirits. “Thanks, Ash,” I say. “For the pep talk and the patience.”
“Any time.” He offers me a hand up, and I take it, feelingsteadier than I have since I arrived. “That’s what teammates are for, right?”
“To help you fly?”
He winks. “To make sure you don’t hit the ground too hard when you inevitably fall.”
CHAPTER SIX
Hudson
It’s the first day of preseason training, and three weeks since I last had a drink. I was a little too fast and loose that first summer weekend. I shouldn’t have broken my dry spell. That goddamned English accent didn’t help.
But the wake-up call the next morning was enough for me to snap out of it.
I need to keep my focus on the season ahead, my graduate-school applications, and finishing my senior year off strong. It’s not worth a distraction in the form of a pretty woman or a case of cheap beer. Neither have done much for me in the past.
Women always seem to want more. I’m not the guy who’s going to give them that, the kind that will promise to stick around forever or when things get tough. Relationships are too messy, too complicated, and I’d rather have control over my life than give it up for something fleeting.
As Levi and I make our way to the field, the sun climbs high enough to burn off the early-morning chill. The air isfilled with the promise of another Nashville summer’s day: hot, humid, and unforgiving. Perfect football weather.
Levi slaps me on the back, grinning as we step onto the pristine grass of the Griffin Park Complex. “Ready to show Wallace we’ve not gone soft over the past few months?”
I chuckle, rolling my shoulders back, the familiar pull of muscles prepped and ready for action. “Always. No reason to doubt us.”
The field is a hive of activity. Coach Wallace is already in full command mode. He’s a stocky man with a voice that could cut through steel, and his presence on the field is as assertive as always.
We gather around him, taking a knee as he outlines the focus for today’s session. “Gentlemen, welcome back. I hope you’ve all rested well because from this point forward, we’ll be pushing harder than ever. This season is ours for the taking, but only if we work for it, bleed for it, and fight for every inch on this field.”
His gaze sweeps over us, lingering just a second longer on me and a few of the other seniors. Harlen’s our star running back, a powerhouse on the field. Marcus and Cade, linebackers with a mean streak. And Ethan, our defensive captain. We’re his veterans, his go-to guys when the game’s on the line. The weight of that trust sits heavy on my shoulders, but it’s a burden I carry with pride.
