Page 10 of Along Comes Trouble

COLTON

I f football isa religion in this town, then the Brookside Thunderhawks stadium is my temple. I love this place. The smell of it. The feel of it. The energy of all these people gathered in one place to cheer for our team. I remember what it was like to be on that field, with the fans thundering their approval as I charged toward the end zone. It was the best time in my life and every time I come back, I get to live it all over again .

This stadium is like a time machine. I show up here and suddenly people remember. They crowd around me like I’m royalty, just like when I was in high school. God, I miss it. I’d do anything to get on that field again. Those kids out there would knock the shit out of me, but it’d be worth it to remember what it feels like to matter .

Football was my thing. Everyone—myself included—foresaw college scholarships and NFL scouts in my future. Teenage me fell asleep to daydreams of my first Super Bowl, agents, and sponsorships .

The only problem was, football was David’s thing, too. He’s older, so he got the college scholarship before I did and people were seeing the NFL in his future, too. I knew my parents needed help on the farm after he left and Sarah wasn’t going to be the one to stick around, so I stayed home and let David have the football thing. Figured the farm would be my thing .

When Dad had a stroke, David came home. Gave up his scholarship to help out while Dad recovered. He’s the first born and all that, so it only made sense that the farm became his thing more than my thing. I’ve never really known where I belonged since then .

“No shit. It’s Colton fucking Carmichael.” The words break through my thoughts and I jostle my container of loaded nachos in my hands as an old friend comes up for a high five .

“What’s good, Devon?” I hold out my arm and thump him on the back, holding my nachos high to keep them safe .

“If I’m here, it’s all good.” He smiles and moves into my personal space as a herd of students heading toward the bleachers passes behind him. I step back to make room and trip over someone behind me, stumbling just enough to fumble my nachos. I watch in horror as they fall, unloading cheese, sour cream, red sauce, and taco meat all over Tessa Morgan’s pink Thunderhawks t-shirt .

She squeals, looking appalled and disgusted as she holds out her hands in shock. I prepare myself for the tirade that’s bound to follow, but when she recognizes me as the person who rained nachos down on her, she laughs. “Really?” She stares down at her ample bosom, a massive stain smeared across the Thunderhawks logo. “You and I are just destined to fail, aren’t we?” She turns to the woman beside her. “You can’t make this stuff up, can you ?”

“I am so sorry.” I hold out my napkin, looking for a way to clean her up, but there’s no way I can help without getting a handful of her breasts. Given our history, that would definitely make a bad situation worse, even if those breasts do look delightfully squeezable. I opt to hand her the napkin instead. “Can I buy you a new shirt ?”

Tessa shakes her head, still laughing. “No need. They’re expensive. I know because I just bought this one today.” With nothing more than a quick glance in my direction, she heads toward the bathroom with her friend, still laughing .

I feel terrible about the mess and confused by her reaction. I turn back to Devon. “Isn’t that some bad luck? I totally expected her to tear into me .”

“Ms. Morgan? No way. She’s too sweet. My son’s in her class and he’s tough, man. Even for me.” Devon shakes his head. “Two months in her classroom and he’s actually excited to go to school. My wife calls her a miracle worker .”

I frown. Am I the only person in Brookside who doesn’t think that little blonde she-devil is sweet? What am I missing here ?

I say goodbye to Devon and then head off in search of replacement nachos. The short trek takes longer than it should because I can’t go two feet without someone stopping me for a chat. While I’m stuck in line talking to a bunch of people I don’t remember, Tessa and her friend emerge from the bathroom. The stain still covers the majority of her shirt, but it’s the smile on her face that catches my attention. It’s warm and for the first time since we met, I can see why people like her. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail, which highlights her high cheek bones and friendly eyes. She catches me staring, shakes her head as if to say what can you do? and lifts her hand in a little wave before heading off to the bleachers .

A piece of trash rattles across the pavement, carried by the wind. Right now, with the sun out, it’s warm enough that I keep pushing the sleeves of my sweatshirt up my forearms. As soon as the sun sets, I’ll be glad for the thing. Poor Tessa doesn’t have anything but a t-shirt with a big wet spot on the front courtesy of me. She’ll be miserable before the night ends. I can’t let that happen. She can think whatever she wants about me, but I won’t be able to enjoy the game if I’m busy worrying about her freezing her ass off because of my mistake. Stuck-up bitch or not, she’s my sister’s friend, my niece’s teacher, and a human being for fuck’s sake. That’s not how I treat people .

Replacement nachos in hand, I filter through the crowd, scanning the bleachers for Tessa and her friend. Near strangers stop me for small talk three more times before I finally find the women. Tessa’s eyes are on me, a strange look on her face, her arms wrapped tightly around her stomach. Her posture tells me she’s already cold. I disengage from the group who stopped me and climb the steps toward the women .

“That’s close enough, Yosemite.” Tessa glances at my nachos. “I’m wearing enough of your snacks for one night.” Something’s changed in her. The tone of her voice. The look in her eyes. It’s subtle, I can’t pinpoint it exactly, but I know it’s there .

Her friend giggles. “Haven’t you already done enough damage with those things ?”

“Definitely.” I hold the nachos tight to my chest. “And that’s why I’m here. I really feel bad — ”

Tessa holds up a hand. “It was a complete accident. There’s nothing to feel bad for. It’s just a crazy coincidence that of all the people to drop a whole tray of nachos on me, it would be you .”

“It’s pretty ridiculous.” I perch on the edge of the bleacher, forcing Tessa and her friend to scooch down a little. “Do you have a jacket? A sweatshirt? It’s going to get cold and you’re wearing a thin t-shirt that’s now very wet because of me .”

Tessa laughs. “I still haven’t gotten used to Ohio weather. Silly me did not bring a jacket .”

“Well, shit. Now I feel terrible .”

“There’s no need. The jacket thing’s on me .”

“And the wet t-shirt thing is on me.” My eyes go to her chest and I swear, I deserve a presidential commendation for managing to yank my focus away from her pert nipples .

I can’t believe we’re not at each other’s throats right now. She has every reason to yell at me and she’s just sitting there, being decent about the whole thing. I balance my nachos in my lap and pull my sweatshirt over my head. “Here,” I say, pressing the thing into her hands. “Wear this so you don’t freeze .”

She tries to protest but I stand. I think I liked it better when we hated each other because right now, with her being nice to me, nothing makes sense. Not the players on the field or the fans in the bleachers. Not the cheerleaders waving their pom poms. And most certainly not the way it feels when I see her wearing my sweatshirt .

“Thank you,” she says, smiling up at me .

“I really am sorry,” I reply, and then walk away, desperate to put some distance between us and disappointed the minute I do .

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