Jockblocked: A Novel (Gridiron Book 2)

“No.” There are thirty minutes left in our practice time, but I want to leave on a high note. “We’re ending early.”

The team whoops with joy. Even Randall, who ordinarily wants to stay longer, is excited. He leans down to give me a quick hug goodbye and gives Heather a kiss on the cheek. She shoos him away and soon it’s just her and me.

“Need something?” I ask as I gather the materials together. Evidently she wants to talk and if there was ever a time that I didn’t want to deal with Heather’s shit, it would be now.

I’m emotionally tapped out. I kind of just want to go back to my apartment, cover my head with a pillow and cry for a few hours—as I’ve done nearly every night since I broke up with Matt.

“Yes. I want to know what I did wrong tonight. You haven’t said more than two words to me. I want to know if I’m fucking up.” She juts out her chin pugnaciously, as if physically preparing herself for me to bust a fist across her chin.

“You aren’t fucking up.”

“I know I didn’t set that cross-examination up right. That I didn’t get her to admit she was under oath before asking her to read from the deposition.”

“Yeah, it’s okay, though. That’s a small error. Do you want to run through it right now?” I pull out the deposition.

Heather pulls it out of my hand and sets it behind her. “No, I want to know why you didn’t call me on that bullshit during the practice. You would have any other night.”

“You were in the groove, and it didn’t make sense to interrupt you.” I decide Heather can keep that copy. I can print out a new one. I shove everything else in my backpack, but before I can close it, Heather’s hand reaches out and rips the bag out of my hand.

“Something’s wrong.” If it were anyone else, I’d say there was concern in her voice. But this is Heather. Despite some evidence to the contrary, Heather is focused on herself alone. In some ways, I really admire that. She’s a sophomore, a year younger than me, but has the drive, determination and direction that people ten years older lack.

I reach for the bag, but she shoves the bag under the desk and plants her ass on the seat. I’ll have to crawl underneath her to get it, which sounds as appealing as running nude in front of the Playground.

I lose my temper. “For the past ten weeks, you’ve treated me like a nuisance at best and a demon who hates you at worst. Every time I’ve given a suggestion on how to improve, you’ve snapped my head off. Now you want me to confide in you?”

Heather waves her hand dismissively, as if the past few weeks of contentiousness haven’t happened. “I don’t want to be your friend, but I want to win this competition, and I know that if you’re not on top of your game, we aren’t going to win, so if talking it out is going to help you get your head out of your ass, then I’m all ears.”

“Gosh, Heather, with that kind of invitation, I don’t know why I’m not barfing out all my emotional drama to you,” I say sarcastically.

“Aha! So something is wrong,” she says as if she’s won something. But hasn’t she? I denied something was wrong. She kept pressing until I lost my cool.

I can’t keep in my surprised laughter. “Aha? Yes, Ms. Perry Mason, that was a pretty perfect cross-examination.”

Heather flushes. “I am getting the hang of things, aren’t I?”

“Yes. Yes, you are,” I agree. “Which is why I didn’t correct you even though you didn’t ask Emily if she was under oath at the time of her deposition just as she was under oath now.”

“Ahh, that’s the phrase.” Heather snaps her fingers. “I ask to approach the witness, wait for permission, and then ask the witness when she testified previously if she was under oath.”

“Right. That way you get her to subtly acknowledge she was either lying then or lying now.”

“And how many points do I get for impeaching the witness?” she asks.

“At least one full point, and they’ll lose points, so it’s a win/win for us.”

“Does that happen often?”

“Rarely.”

“Bummer.” She pushes her bottom lip out.

“On the plus side, you know how to do it now.” I hold out my hand. “Can I have my bag back?”

“No. Not until you’ve told me what is wrong.”

“I can fight you for it.”

“But you won’t because you believe in being patient and kind.” She taps the backpack with the heel of her foot.

“I don’t like you very much right now.” I stare at her in frustration. Heather’s completely unaffected by my growing irritation.

“As if that’s different from any other time.”

Oh hell, why not. I throw my coat down and take a seat across from her. “You remember Matty, right?” He’d come to a few practices.

“Did I suffer amnesia? Of course, I remember fuckboy.”

I stand up. “We’re done now.”

“No, come on, sit down,” Heather pleads. “I know I suck at this. Give me another shot.” I don’t move. “Please,” she says.