Page 66 of Dirty Roulette
Helmets clash together and this time our running back lies on the turf, not moving when the tacklers get up, leaving him there like roadkill. The whistle blows again for a timeout, and medics sprint across the field. It doesn’t take them long to tell Coach he’s done.
Eyes reel on me as Coach grabs me by the jersey, pulling me off the bench. He spits into my ear. “No funny business, you hear me? If the kid wasn’t hurt, you wouldn’t be touching a damn ball tonight regardless if we were winning or losing.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t hog the ball.” Coach shakes my shoulders. The helmet slides on as I jog onto the field. Brody circles us, patting my teammates on the back, their faces set with determination as I squeeze myself in. “Look who showed up late to the party!” Brody lifts his chin.
“It’s about time we get the Crab!” Jared grabs my helmet, slapping the number on the side. Sweat trickles down his cheek, mixing with the streaks of black-eye paint. We exchange quick words before the next play is called, and then we break.
I take my position – analyzing the defense, reading their formation, and plotting my moves. The turf beneath my cleats feels solid,grounding me in this moment. The ball snaps, and Brody fakes and hands off the ball. I sprint to the line of scrimmage, passing through within seconds. The offense opens up a gap and I get a burst of speed – I slip through the hole, my legs pumping.
Shouting not only came from my teammates, but the crowd in the stadium. A linebacker lunges but I juke to the left, leaving him to stumble on his feet, gasping for air. The field opens – other players are miles behind me and the end zone is within reach.
My heart pounds, my palms sweat inside my gloves, and I can feel the weight of my helmet pressing down on my head. The Safety comes at me from the side, but I lower my shoulder and power through the tackle. With one final stride, I cross the goal line. The crowd erupts in cheers as the whistle blows for a touchdown.
Feet in the stands stomp and in unison, they chant. “Crab! Crab! Crab!”
The last two endings of the game have me standing in the end zone, panting. The cameras display me on the Jumbotrons, throwing the ball to the turf and flexing. They can put me in many positions on the field, and I’m the one catching and running the ball, intercepting plays, and making it into the end zone.
Nearing the end of the game, the taste of dirt lingers in my mouth and the sting of the turf bites my skin. They have tackled me to the ground over a dozen times, but they can’t seem to bury me. I’ve scored enough touchdowns to get us tied. We’re down to twenty seconds, and we are stuck on the 35-yard line – the limit for a field goal.
It’s Nick’s time to shine. He gussied up in the mirror all afternoon for this one moment. The game finishes based on this one kick. He struts onto the field, chewing on his mouth guard like its gum.
The ball snapped and Nick did what he does best. His foot connects with the ball with a satisfying thud, sending it sailing through the air.The crowd holds its breath more than I do as it arches high above the field, spiraling to the goalposts. Time slows as the ball reaches its peak and everything is silent. As it descends, the crowd erupts.
The referee blows the final whistle, signaling a game-winning field goal.
The team and I storm the field to Nick. As the players celebrate by bumping into chests, and dumping ice water over each other’s heads, my eyes fall to Payton. She’s beaming, her pom-poms still in hand. I pull off my helmet with my heart racing from the adrenaline she injects me with.
Payton throws her poms on the grass and races over to me in a full sprint. One tackle from her has me stumbling on my feet as she leaps into my arms. I wrap my hands around her waist, twirling in circles. Her fingers carve through strands of my sweaty hair and her pheromones put me under a spell. My lips are centimeters from hers. The ache to kiss her in front of thousands weighs like a heavy brick.
“Hey cutie,” I say as her forehead presses against mine, her fingers holding the side of my cheeks.
“I knew you were good, but holy hell! You were amazing out there!”
“Will you be my girlfriend?” I ask, spinning around in a slow circle as I hold her up.
“What?”
“I want you to be my girl, I don’t want to hide anymore.”
“You want to be more?” She asks.
“Yes. So what do you say, cutie? Will you be mine?”
A giggle comes out of her mouth as she rakes a hand through my sweaty hair nodding her head yes.
The Jumbotrons display my overextended hug with Payton. When she notices she’s showcased on the big screen, her nose burns red and a blush rushes across her high cheekbones. I place her back down onthe grass and grasp her cheeks to pull her in for a peck on the forehead. The big screen displays it for the dispersing crowd.
“I’ll see you tonight at the party, right?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
She grabs her poms and waves at me as she heads in the opposite direction. I snatch my helmet off the ground and trail behind my other teammates, heading to the double doors inside.
Chapter twenty-two
Payton
