Page 57 of Beautifully Devoted

Cameron

Colorado may not have much humidity, but the sun is wicked at this altitude, and now that it’s late in the third quarter of our home opener, I’m feeling its effects.

I’m dripping sweat under my pads, sticky and uncomfortable in the oppressive mid-afternoon heat. And while heat and sweat are part of the game, the sad truth is, our game jerseys don’t breathe as well as our practice gear, and while we look good, I’m sure the rest of my teammates are just as anxious to get out of their gear as I am.

Days like this make me glad football is a fall sport. Too bad we’ve got several weeks until fall officially hits, so chances are we’ll have more than a few of these hot, exhausting games. The only silver lining is that we’re kicking ass.

Jagger just caught a pass for a first down, putting us about thirty-five yards from the end zone. It was a beautiful play, with him outrunning the defender along the sideline and stretching out to grab the ball like he was going for a casual stroll, not shooting downfield like a bolt of lightning. If we score here, this will probably be our last drive, and Coach will put the second and third string in to get some playing time.

Nate calls us all back to the huddle and gives us the play coach wants to see. It’s another pass, this time with Bennet as his first look, so rather than barreling forward off the line to open a hole for a runner I’ll need to stand my ground and hold the pocket to give Nate time to make the throw. I actually prefer run blocking, it’s easier to push people back than hold them steady, so I’m less prone to get a holding call, but Coach wants to step up our passing game this season.

We step up to the line and get in position, and Nate runs through the signals prior to the snap. When the center hikes the ball I pop up and do my best to act as a wall, pushing the linemen back as they try to get around me. Bennet shoots downfield, making his way toward the end zone, with the other team’s corner hot on his heels.

I have to give it to that guy, Damien, though. He’s been a thorn in Bennet’s side all game, positioning himself just right to disrupt all but one pass we’ve sent Bennet’s way. It’s uncanny the way he seems to anticipate my teammate, and while he’s made Jagger work for his catches as well, it’s almost like the guy knows Bennet better than our man knows himself. Maybe it’s because they played against each other as kids.

Damien is the strongest player on an otherwise average team, and if it weren’t for him, we’d probably be up even more. Part of me wants to feel bad that he’s not part of a stronger program, but the other part of me wants Bennet to get the best of him since it’s his childhood rival.

Nate launches the ball as Bennet nears the end of his route, faking like he’s going to go left then hooking back and to the right to meet it. He jumps up to make the catch, and Damien does too, but without even turning his head to look for the ball Damien stretches a hand up and gets a finger on it, changing its trajectory so it doesn’t meet Bennet’s hand. All without ever coming into contact with Bennet.

Normally, when the defender doesn’t look for the ball it’d be considered pass interference, but since Damien didn’t touch Bennet at all and only knocked the ball off course, it’s considered a clean play.

Bennet is furious as he jogs back to the huddle, grumbling about how Damien is always underfoot, always in position, you name it. It sucks when another player seems to have your number, but hopefully he’ll channel that into figuring out a way to outplay the guy instead of venting to us.

Coach has us do a running play next, probably to give the receivers a breather, and we’re able to get eight yards so we’re looking at third and two. Nate tosses Cruz a little shovel pass over the middle, picking up five yards total, and then it’s back to another pass.

Damien matches up to Bennet again—no surprise—leaving Jagger marked by one of their other corners. It’s not an even pairing, Jagger is way faster, and he breaks away as he nears the end zone. Nate launches the ball to the back corner just to give Jagger some practice snatching it on the verge of the out-of-bounds marker, and we add another six points to our total.

The offense slaps a bunch of high-fives with us as we jog off the field, and I have to tug on Bennet’s jersey to get him moving toward our sideline after he catches Damien blowing him a smug air kiss. I take a seat on the bench between him and Jagger, dousing my head with cold water as soon as my helmet comes off.

“Fuck I needed that,” I groan. “It’s just cruel to make us play games in August.”

“Screw that.” Jagger swishes water around his mouth and spits it on the ground. “I’d much rather play in this heat when I can still feel my fingers than in the freezing cold where they might snap off if the ball hits them the wrong way. Am I right?” he asks Bennet.

“Mmm,” our teammate grunts, eyes cast toward the other team’s line.

“I’m right, he’s just too grouchy to say it,” Jagger assures me before leaning around me to talk to Bennet. “Hey, we got the win. That’s the final word.”

“Easy for you to say when he wasn’t shutting you down all game,” Bennet says.

“If he had been, then you’d have been open.” Jagger shrugs like it makes no difference who makes the play, only for him it’s not lip service, he actually believes it. “When one of us is under coverage the other should be open. Today you had the coverage. Another game it’ll be me.”

“That fucker is always on me, though. No one else can come close to covering me like he does, and it’s pissing me off.”

“How does he do it?” I ask Bennet.

“No fucking clue.” Bennet shakes his head. “God, I hate that dude.”

We spend the rest of the game rehashing what went well, what we need to work on, and cheering the rest of our boys as they grow our lead by another score. Afterward, Jagger has to do a call with some of his NIL sponsors, and Cruz and Liam are meeting his parents for dinner, so Bennet and I shower and head into town to pick up some takeout to bring back to the house.

“What do you feel like?” I ask Bennet as we stroll down the pedestrian walkway known as The Block, which has a bunch of restaurants, clothing boutiques, and other little mom and pop storefronts. It’s the place to be on game day if you aren’t at the game since they put out an inflatable screen and people can mingle while they watch.

“I know I should say chicken, but I’d really love a burger.”

“What about a steak burrito?” I suggest, spotting a little Mexican cantina that doesn’t have a line stretching out the door. “You get your red meat and I get green chili. Plus, I can’t make a killer burrito but I’m decent at grilling burgers.”

“Deal.”

We head to the cantina and get in the carryout line, the smell of warm tortilla chips making my mouth water. I don’t know what it is about those little triangles that’s so appealing. There’s literally nothing fancy about them, but I could make a meal out of them. I make a note to get an extra order along with some refried beans and queso, cause damn. That combo can’t be beat.

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