I stick my fingers in my mouth and whistle to shut everyone up.
“Coach said to suit up!” I shout. “Let’s rock and roll!”
“Like you’re not about to blast Lady Gaga,” says Bo, earning him a hearty laugh from the guys. I flip him the bird as I walk over to my locker. Someone does turn on the team mix, which includes a healthy mix of pop, rap, and hip hop, and we’re laughing, shouting across the room over the music, as we get ready to go.
I take off my watch and store it in my locker, then pick up my helmet. Tap twice against the locker door, the same way I’ve done since I was in ninth grade.
I’m ready.
Only thing left to do is play a good game.
38
JAMES
I bark out orders as we line up again, glancing at the clock. Less than a minute left before halftime. We’ve been clawing our way through long drives all game, grinding out first downs, and we’ve been rewarded with several touchdowns and a field goal. Alabama isn’t far behind, however, and another score here would mean it’s a two-score game heading into the second half. Alabama will have the ball first when the third quarter opens, so scoring here is essential.
We’re on third down, however, and need to make a first to keep the chance of a touchdown on this drive going.
I scan the field, adjusting a couple of my men quickly, then get into position for the snap. I make it seem like we we’re going for a rush up the middle, but that leaves a lane open for me to the right. I fake passing the ball off, then tuck it under my arm and take off running into the first down.
I swipe my tongue over my lip as I watch Coach give me the signal for the next play. With a fresh set of downs, we have more options.
Next, a rush up the middle. Then a short pass that nets a couple yards. We try for the end zone, but it goes wide. I glance at the clock again; see Coach telling me to go for it. We have time for one more passing attempt before we need to drop down to the field goal.
I see Darryl fan out in the end zone, shaking the man-to-man coverage, and throw to him. It’s a little high; he leaps and catches it one-handed, hauling it down to his chest before tumbling to the ground.
“Fuck yes!” I shout, pumping my fist as I jog over to him. Now I can breathe easier heading into halftime. He comes up grinning, mobbed by a couple of the guys, and does a little endzone dance. I reach out and pull him into a one-armed hug, slapping his back.
There’s only a couple of seconds before halftime, so Alabama chooses to let the clock run down, counting, I’m sure, on that first possession next half. But I’m not worried. I trust my defense.
I haven’t looked for Bex on the sideline, wanting to avoid the distraction during the game, but now I see her waving to me. I wave back, grinning. I’m sure she’s gotten some amazing shots of the game so far, but really, all I hope is that she’s loved doing it. If this helps her realize that this is a future she can have, that she deserves to pursue photography seriously, I’ll be thrilled.
Darryl leans in as we jog to the tunnel that leads to the locker room. “Throwing a little high, C.”
“That was a great catch,” I say, totally sincere. It was. “You came up big.”
“Yeah,” he says. “I’m sure Bex loved it.”
I almost stumble. What the hell is he doing, talking about my girl again? First the press pass and now this. Bex hasn’t brought him up in ages, so I’ve followed her lead, not wanting to bring up bad memories. Darryl and I have been mostly good—or at least I thought that, up until two seconds ago. Even though I’m soaked in sweat, the back of my neck prickles like I’m cold.
“Hey,” I say, pulling him away from the crowd before he goes into the locker room. “You trying to say something to me?”
“That depends,” he says. “What do you think I should be saying?”
“Nothing,” I say shortly. “Not where Bex is concerned. She’s not yours, asshole. Hasn’t been in months.”
He shrugs, an infuriating little smile playing on his lips. “Okay, man. Whatever you say.”
I’m not sure what the fuck that’s supposed to mean, but Coach calls me over, and I can’t disobey, so I reluctantly glare at Darryl for a moment before leaving. Something about his smirk isn’t sitting right. If he even so much as looks at Bex, we’re going to have a problem.
I wipe at my sweaty forehead with a towel as I listen to Coach break down the game so far, working over the plan for the second half. This is an important moment, and I need to be 100% focused. But I can’t help looking over to Darryl from time to time.
He has no reason to try to throw me off my game; we’re on the same side. Unless he hates me that much? But I didn’t steal Bex from him. He lost her all on his own.
I tense when I hear him say Bex’s name, but don’t turn around. Even when I hear the word kiss.
“Yeah,” he continues. “She’s just as good as I remember. One kiss and she was begging for more.”
I feel my fists curl at my sides. Blood pounds in my ears, but I still hear his next words, clear as fucking day.
“Was always a slut for it. She’s been a little whore with Callahan all semester, but I’m getting her back.”
My whole world narrows to a tiny point, the ugly words echoing in my head.
He kissed her. He fucking kissed her. When? How? And if it’s true, why am I hearing about this from him?
“James?” Coach Gomez says. He clasps my shoulder, a gesture that usually grounds me, but right now, I want to rip his hand away. “You all right, son?”
“Excuse me,” I say tightly. “Give me a second.”
I want to throw Darryl against the bank of lockers and smash his fucking nose into his skull, but somehow, I manage to walk past him, out of the locker room. Bex is standing by the door, right where I saw her when I went in, and I hate how the cute, excited expression on her face dies the moment she sees me.
“James?” she says. “What’s wrong?”
“He kissed you?”
Her silence would be answer enough, but her lip wobbles too, and my veins feel like they’re filled with ice as I realize she’s about to cry. I shut my eyes for a long moment, trying to stop the way my heart is pounding. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”
“Wait,” she says, grabbing my hand. “Just calm down.”
“Did he do it?”
“Yes, but—”
“But what?” I interrupt. The anger that’s coursing through me hits a fever pitch as the truth sinks in. “But what? He fucking touched you without your consent because I know no matter how he was bragging about it in there, you didn’t give it. Did he hurt you?”
She turns away. “Let’s not do this now. You still have to play the second half.”
“Fuck the game.” I turn her face so she’s looking at me. I need to see in her eyes that she’s not lying, that she’s okay. That he didn’t do worse than kiss her. She blinks, her eyes spilling over with tears. I pull her into a tight hug, cupping the back of her head with one hand. “Tell me what he did.”
She sobs into my shoulder, a sound that strikes me right between the ribs like a bullet. “I’m sorry, I just—he’s been trying to talk to me, and we met up before the game started, and when I tried to tell him to leave me alone, he kissed me.” She pulls back, looking up as she hugs herself around her middle. Her eyes are wide, and as she swallows down another sob, I realize she’s not just upset, she’s scared. That fucker scared her. “That’s it. I’m fine.”
“Like hell you’re fine,” I practically growl. I hug her again, even tighter this time, pressing my face against her hair. She sobs again; I can feel her trembling against me. “You don’t have to pretend you’re fucking fine.”
The second I get Darryl alone, he’s going to wish he never even thought about touching my girl.
“You have to finish the game,” she whispers.
I know she’s right, but there’s no way in hell I’m leaving her like this. “You’re shaking like a leaf, baby.”
She rubs her cheek against my shoulder pad. I can feel her fight to control her breathing, but she can’t quite manage it; she sucks in a breath that turns into another quiet sob. A couple of people walk by, and I wave them along, gritting my teeth. We stay like that for a minute or so, pressed together tightly. I shield her body with mine so whenever someone else comes by, they don’t see her while she’s crying, even though each little noise she makes hurts me deep.
“I love you,” I whisper.
“I’m sorry,” she says eventually, so quiet I almost miss it. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
She shakes her head. “You need to go. It’s almost time, right?”
“Probably.” I pull back, stroking my hand down her face. “Are you okay to go back out there?”
She wipes at her eyes carefully, nodding. “Yeah,” she says, voice thick with emotion that makes my heart squeeze. “James?”
“Yeah, princess?”
She hesitates for a moment, like she’s not quite sure what to say. “I love you too.”