Page 41 of Run the Play
“I agree with him,” Baker speaks up. “We don’t know if he’s watching, and it wouldn’t make sense for you to leave withouteach other. I rode with Foster, so I’ll just drive your car back to Landry’s place. Easy fix.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Honestly, you’re saving me. Have you ever ridden with this guy?” He points to Foster, who just chuckles.
“Thank you, Baker.”
“You’re welcome. So, we’re all heading back to Landry’s. Do we need any supplies?” Baker asks.
“Nope. I’m all stocked up. We have food for the grill, snacks, drinks, and beer. If I don’t have it, we don’t need it,” Landry jokes. “I even got that fruity shit you ladies love so much. We’re doing Fourth of July right,” he says with excitement.
“Bro, are you hungry again?” Foster asks.
“Is that a real question?” Landry grins at him.
Foster shakes his head, amusement lining his features. “Let’s get out of here.”
Landry offers me his hand, and I take it, allowing him to help me to my feet. Together, our fingers laced, we head out of the stadium with our heads held high. We made it through today, but I know this isn’t the last I’ll hear from Chaz. I could feel his eyes on us all day, and I’m sure he was seething but trying to maintain his composure to protect his image and his new position on the team.
He’ll get to me sooner or later, and when he does, that’s when I’ll have to leave.
Chapter Eleven
Landry
“Run it again!” Coach Warner calls out.
We meet on the line of scrimmage. Thomas Keen, our center, hikes the ball, and I take off like a rocket. Swinging my arms, I run as fast as I can to get there. Looking over my shoulder, I see the ball headed straight for me, just as the play calls for, and I also see that fuck face, Brown, and his slow ass trying to get to me in time. Joke’s on him. My feet have had wheels on them every day since camp started. I’m fast on any given day, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t motivated to outrun that motherfucker.
The ball lands perfectly in my hands from Knox’s flawless spiral. Tucking it in close to my chest, I take off for the end zone. I can hear Chaz cussing behind me as I cross the line.
Touchdown!
Chaz stops just before the end zone with his hands on his hips, breathing heavily.
“Party too hard in the offseason, bud?” I taunt.
“Fuck off, Reynolds.”
I hold my hands up in the air as if to say no offense. “I’m just saying.”
He mumbles something under his breath that I’m sure isn’t the least bit friendly, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning.
He’s been covering me for the majority of camp, yet he’s never caught me. I want so badly to remind him that Rowan is with the better man, but I don’t need a coach on my ass for starting shit on the field. Chaz Brown is a cocky fuck, and sooner or later, he’s going to do that all on his own. If he starts it, I won’t get into trouble—at least not as much trouble—and trust me… I’m ready for his sorry ass when he decides to cause a scene.
“Bring it in,” Coach Warner calls out.
Stepping into a jog, I hit my shoulder into his as I hustle back to the fifty-yard line where Coach Warner is standing and take a knee with the rest of my team.
“That was a good hustle out there. All eyes are going to be on us this season as the reigning champs. You’re giving me one-hundred-and-ten-percent out there, and it’s not going unnoticed. For those of you who are new to the organization, we’re a family here. If you can’t fall in line with that mode of thinking, this isn’t the team for you.” Coach makes eye contact with every single player, even those of us who are veterans of the team. “Hit the showers, see the medical team if you need it, and dinner is in two hours. Tonight, you have the night off. No tape, no walk-throughs. Let your bodies and your minds rest, but lights out at ten.” He nods as if he agrees with his decision and stalks off with the other coaches trailing along behind him.
I catch a glimpse of Rowan on the sidelines packing up supplies with our head physical therapist, John Weaver. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a ponytail and those tight khaki shorts and Rampage polo she’s wearing do nothing to hide her toned body. She doesn’t look my way, and that won’t do.
“Be right back,” I tell the guys. Helmet in hand, I jog toward the sidelines. When I’m close enough, I press my hand to the small of her back. She jumps and whirls around to face me with fear in her eyes. “Hey, it’s just me,” I say soothingly. My hand gently travels up and down her spine in a back-and-forth motion, trying to soothe her.
“You scared me,” she finally says.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to say hi to my girl.” I flash her what I’m told is my panty-melting grin, and I can’t only see but feel the tension leave her body.
