Page 30 of Beautifully Devoted

Jagger’s mouth pops like a goldfish as he tries, and fails, to come up with an explanation. “What we record in practice wouldn’t have been an official time or anything,” he finally sputters.

“Maybe not.” I let him off the hook as my eyes search for the stranger and find him missing. “Hey, did you see that guy in the stands earlier?”

“What guy?”

“I don’t know. He was here just a minute ago, watching the practice.”

“What do you mean?” Jagger’s eyes narrow as he searches the stands for the man I already know he won’t find.

“He was peeking around the corner like he didn’t want to get caught lurking.”

“You think it was someone from another team trying to gain an edge on us?”

I hadn’t thought that, but it makes more sense than an NFL scout watching a summer practice. “Maybe?”

“Nah,” Jagger dismisses his own suggestion. “Why risk getting caught cheating for a pre-season practice. That makes no sense.” He holds a hand above his eyes to block the sun as he scours the bleachers again. “Are you sure you saw someone up there?”

“Pretty sure,” I say as Coach hollers at us to hit the showers.

“But not positive?” Jagger prods as we grab our helmets and follow after the guys. Our cleats echo like those heels girls wear as we clomp through the concrete tunnel leading to the locker room.

“You think I imagined a guy sitting in the stands?”

“Nooo.” He drags the word out in a way that makes it sound like it’s more of a reflexive answer than something he believes. “I just can’t think why anyone would bother watching us this early in the season.”

“Me neither, but I know what I saw.”

“What’d you see?” Cruz asks when he overhears us.

Jagger jerks a thumb in my direction. “Cam thought he saw someone in the stands.”

“I did.”

“Practices are closed to the public.” Cruz shoves his helmet in his locker and starts stripping down for a shower.

“Doesn’t mean someone couldn’t sneak in,” I retort, wincing when I catch a whiff of the jersey I pull over my head. Summer practices leave us all pretty ripe.

“I think he’s seeing things.” Jagger winks at me, and I roll my eyes with an audible huff, determined not to take his bait. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for my teammates.

“What, like ghosts?” Bennet chimes in. Lovely.

“Here we go,” I grumble under my breath as I set my cleats in the locker.

“There’s one living in the frat house,” Bennet says, which brings a mischievous twinkle to Jagger’s eyes since he loves zany conversations that have no real point. Usually, I do too, but not today since I know I didn’t see a ghost. “It used to turn my stereo to the jazz station.”

“Are you sure that wasn’t just your roommates trying to hint that you have shitty taste in music?” Cruz elbows him in the arm.

“Very funny.” Bennet tosses his sweaty gear into the nearest laundry bin.

“For real though.” Jagger grabs a towel from the stack provided for our showers. “How could a ghost change the station? They can’t touch stuff on our plane of existence, and you can’t change the station without touching the stereo. Or a remote.”

“Say what?” Cruz gapes at him as he grabs a towel of his own.

“Don’t you watch Spirit Hunter?” Jagger asks over his shoulder as he walks to the shower, the rest of us falling into step behind him, although my step falters a bit when my mind snags on how a guy as cut as he is can look so lithe doing something as simple as walking.

What the hell? That’s twice today I’ve caught myself admiring how he moves. What the fuck is going on with me?

I shake my head to rid that errant thought as the steam of the room engulfs me. “It’s a show where people chase ghosts,” I explain as I reach the stall. “It’s one of our guilty pleasures.” Turning on the water, I grimace as the cold droplets hit the floor and splash onto my shins. “According to them, physical laws don’t apply to ghosts since they don’t have any form, which is why they pass through walls and shit. Without any form, they couldn’t touch your stereo. That’s how I know I didn’t see a ghost, since it was standing on the bleachers.”

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