Page 2 of Racking Up Penalties
“New York, huh? That’s big news, Tessa.” There’s genuine admiration there, a steady support that anchors me despite the uncertainty that quivers through me. “You’re going to take the fashion world by storm.”
“Thanks, Liam.” I wrap my arms around myself, a small shield against the bittersweet tang of leaving. “I just wish I didn’t have to miss out on all the fun here.”
“Hey,” he says softly, reaching out to tilt my chin up, ensuring I meet his gaze. “We’ll have plenty of fun when you get back. Promise.”
“Okay,” I say softly. It feels like I’m losing something. He wanted to take me out and now I’ll be gone all summer. He will probably find someone else to take out.
The corners of his mouth lift, eyes crinkling with an emotion that sends my heart into an odd somersault. “I can’t wait for you to come back with stories of skyscrapers and runway shows.” His words are heavy with anticipation, and it’s clear he means every one.
Around us, the room buzzes—a hive of celebration—and yet, Liam’s attention never wavers from me. Girls flutter near him like moths to a flame, their giggles piercing the night air, trying to draw him into their orbit. But Liam’s gaze is steadfast, his focus locked on me alone. The realization sends a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with the chilled air sneaking in through the open windows.
“Come on,” he says suddenly, his hand brushing against mine, sending ripples of awareness through my skin. “Let’s find somewhere quieter.”
I nod, eager to escape the overwhelming noise. We weave through groups of jostling teammates and fans, their faces flushed with victory and alcohol.
We slip into a dimly lit hallway, the sounds of celebration muffled as if we’ve stepped into another world. For a moment, we just stand there, taking in the sudden stillness.
“Better?” he asks, and I notice the way his gray eyes search mine, looking for something I’m not sure I can name.
“Much,” I confess, leaning back against the cool wall, grateful for the respite.
Liam steps closer, close enough that I can see the flecks of light in his eyes—like stars caught in a stormy sky. “You’re going to do amazing things in New York, Tessa. I just wish…” He trails off, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as he swallows words left unsaid.
“Me too,” I whisper, filling in the silence he’s left behind. There’s a tension between us, one that hums with the potential of uncharted territories. It’s thrilling and terrifying all at once.
Of course, Emma ruins the moment. My best friend comes over like a storm pulling me away from Liam before I even have the chance to get his number.
Chapter 2
August
My cleats sink slightly into the ground as I step onto the field, the scent of fresh grass and earth mingling with the sweat and adrenaline that hang palpable in the air. Practice is already a chaotic symphony of shouts, grunts, and the thud of footballs being caught or hitting the ground. There’s an electric energy here, a bond among these players that I recognize from my old team.
“Delaney, get over here and meet the team!” The coach’s voice cuts through the noise as I make my way over. The team falls into a hushed curiosity, their eyes flicking toward me—some intrigued, others openly doubtful. I pull the straps of my helmet tighter, a nervous habit, and nod.
“Tristan Delaney,” I say. “Nice to meet you.”
“Welcome to Eastwood. I’m Brett,” One of the guys steps forward to say. He’s clearly a captain.
I turn to face the sea of new faces, feeling the weight of their scrutiny. Each look seems to peel back a layer, trying to see how I will affect their season. My name echoes off introductions and handshakes, some warm and others cool. Tyler Brown’s gaze feels like ice even from a distance. He’s the quarterback I’m replacing but I’m still hoping we can get along. It will make the transition to this new school easier.
“Looking forward to seeing what you’ve got, Delaney.” One of the receivers slaps me on the shoulder, and I can’t help but let a half-grin slip through. It’s full of anticipation.
“Thanks,” I reply, my voice steady despite the fluttering in my chest. “I’m here to impress.”
“Alright, let’s get to it!” Coach claps his hands together, and the team disperses, ready to start their drills.
Sweat mixes with the dirt on my skin as I take my place in line. The scent of fresh grass, a heavy contrast to the musk of exertion, fills my lungs. I’m up for the next drill—a gauntlet of agility ladders and tackle dummies that the coach has laid out like a minefield. It’s designed to test us and weed out the weak. I’m not here to be weeded out.
“Think you’re up for this, Delaney?” One of the linebackers grins at me, his eyes glinting with challenge.
“Absolutely,” I say, flexing my fingers in anticipation.
The whistle blows, and it’s as if my body shifts into autopilot. Feet dancing across the ladders, I show off my speed. A murmur ripples through the team, but it doesn’t sound like admiration. It’s too sharp, too edged.
“Hey, new guy,” someone calls, tossing an extra dummy into my path. “Watch out for that one!”
I knew there would be some hazing when I came here. It’s standard for any team. I can handle it as long as they don’t take it too far.
