Page 112 of The Game Plan
Chloe gasps, choking on her cinnamon roll. “No way!”
“Way!” Brynn agrees. “Well, half of the mimosa lands on the quarterback's wife, who’s four months pregnant. She retaliates by throwing ice water on Remy, and then proceeds to cuss her out. I totally had her back. Her husband is the quarterback, and you don’t fuck with the leader of the team.”
“This is such a New Jersey Housewives scene.” I chuckle.
“You have no idea. We could seriously land a reality show contract.”
Chloe laughs. “Can you imagine? Us sitting around with our wine, watching Brynn tear into other wives?”
“I’d watch every episode,” I agree eagerly.
We’re full-on giggling now. Cleo looks up from gnawing on a teether and claps along with us, like she’s in on the joke. It’s adorable that we’re raising the next generation of our friend group.
For the first time in a long time, the crippling anxiety doesn’t feel as heavy.
We’re in the remaining half hour of practice. It’s the day before we leave for a game, which means final walk-throughs and last-minute adjustments to our game plan. I’m off to the side, discussing a change in a route, when whispers start filling the sidelines.
“Dude, did you see who it is?”
“Holy shit!”
“Is that Quinton Boyd?”
I glance up from the iPad and spot him. A smug smile is pasted on his face as he strides in with all the confidence in the world. The underclassmen stare at him like he’s their hero, but he’s Q to me. My best friend who shared my dorm room with me freshman year. The guy who would throw the biggest ragers on campus.
“Well, look who it is!” Dad shouts from the sideline.
“Sup, Coach,” Q greets with a nod. “Thought I’d check in to see if you still knew what you were doing.”
Laughter ripples through the team as Dad chuckles, shaking his head. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
“Nah.” Q holds his hand up in surrender. “Just came here to watch.”
Jogging over, he nods in my direction as we dab fists. “Hey, man! Could’ve warned me you were stopping by.”
“What’s the fun in that?” We both turn and watch the team try to return to normal. Even some of the coaches are glancing in his direction. We’ve all got stars in our eyes when Q’s in the room.
It’s not long before the door is banging open again. Heads whip at the sound, nobody expecting any visitors, and I burst out laughing.
Cody Jacobs strides in like he owns the fucking place. Arms outstretched to the sides as a megawatt smile takes over his face. “Hope you don’t mind I crashed the party, too.”
Q groans beside me. He loves to act like he hates Jacobs, but we all know they’ve got a secret brotherhood.
“Jesus Christ,” Dad shouts. “Jacobs, you didn’t even play football.”
“Aw, c’mon, Coach C. Didn’t you miss me?”
“No,” Dad says without hesitation. “Grant, call it a day and take these shitheads out of here so my team can focus.”
I pretend to protest, but he sees right through my bullshit. Giving him a salute, we push each other through the door.
“Why do I feel like I just sprung you from jail?” Cody asks.
I shrug. “Because you kind of did.”
Cody flashes a cocky smirk, but it’s Q who speaks first. “Who’s up for some golf?”
Brow pinched, I stare at him. “Since when do you golf?”
