Page 114 of Comeback
“It’s beautiful.”
He smiles in a relieved kind of way that makes me wonder if he was nervous about giving it to me.
I drape it along my right wrist and clasp it, then hold up my arm to let the charm dangle.
“Thank you.”
32
SABRINA
“Are you ready?” Archer asks, holding the football up in one hand.
“Definitely not.”
His lips quirk into a grin that I can see from ten yards away. “I’m going to throw it right to you. You just have to catch it.”
“And not let it hit me in the face,” I mutter to myself.
“Here it comes,” Archer says.
Not at all feeling confident, I hold my hands up anyway. When the football sails my way, I send up a silent prayer that I can manage to keep it from breaking my nose. I squeeze my eyes shut as it approaches—probably not the best plan, but when it hits my palms, I instinctively curl my fingers around it.
Peeking out of one eye, I’m shocked to find myself holding the ball. I did it!
Archer’s smile has doubled in size. A giddy sensation zips through me.
“Now what?” I yell.
“Run it into the end zone.”
I take off, jogging more than running, until I hear Archer’s footsteps behind me. I glance over my shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to tackle you.”
My heart rate picks up and a thrill rushes through me with him chasing me. I increase my speed. “I thought you were playing quarterback?”
“I’m multi-talented.”
I get one foot in the end zone before he wraps his arms around me. Slowly and much more gentle than any defender in the league, Archer pulls me to the ground on top of him.
“Did I score?”
His eyes twinkle with amusement. “You sure did.”
“Should I get up and show you my victory dance?”
“Later.” His mouth covers mine. I let the ball go to tangle my fingers in his thick hair.
In the background I can hear some of his other teammates on the field. They had the day off practice, but Archer had to come by for a quick meeting and asked me to come along.
I didn’t ask enough questions because apparently that meeting was teaching me how to play football.
When I pull back and roll over to the side, he smiles at me, brushing my hair away from my face.
“Am I as good as my brother?” I ask him.
“Definitely. And you look better on the field.”
