Page 17 of The Way We Dance

Ty

“1, 2, 3, 4, 5…..”

We were spread out on the lines of the field doing warm-ups before practice. I was with my fellow tight ends on the thirty yard line looking into the eyes of the linebackers who were doing the same warm-ups.

Unless we scrimmaged, this was the only time the whole team did the same thing. Every morning we warmed up as a unit.

This was our dance.

A dance that we all knew the steps to and performed as a coordinated unit. The choreography was the same every morning and we synchronized ourselves so that if someone was looking on from afar, they would think it was rehearsed.

It was kind of therapeutic in a way. Warm-ups were the only thing during our day that we could predict. No one got hurt, no punches were thrown, no coaches were yelling, and the heat of the day had yet to peak.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as we started our count again and moved on to the next warm-up. I was doing my 7th jumping-jack when Duncan Rhodes, one of our backup linebackers, interrupted the count.

"Daaaaaamn, girl," I opened my eyes and he was staring off to the side of the field. "Honey honey just stepped out of the car. Who the fuck is that?"

The few of us that heard him turned our heads and looked at a woman standing next to a town car. Dave was jogging toward her, waving his arms to get her attention. Lucky Dave.

Duncan was right, Daaaamn. Only she was not a girl, she was a fucking woman. From where I was, I couldn't see her very well, but that suit made me feel shit. Just like when I saw Miss Priss in her tutu, I was stirring below my belt.

Who knew I would have a sudden penchant for women in clothes? I was usually the kind of guy that found them sexier out of their clothes. Turns out I was into a power suit, because I got lured in just enough to get uncoordinated with the rest of the team.

"Black," one of the coaches yelled. "Get back in step."

I did without any issues, but I kept my eyes turned toward the woman talking to Dave. He was waving his arms around as if he was Vanna White showing the prize pack for the night. I was briefly more curious about who would wear that suit out here and give a shit about the ongoings of camp. So much so that Dave was assigned to her side.

Not that Dave was a big wig, but he was Coach's right hand man and Coach didn't do well without him being at his beck and call. So what was so important? Who was so important?

I took my eyes off the woman and got back into a full force motion for my warm-up. The last thing I needed to do was have something or someone else distracting me from football. The media showed up to our afternoon scrimmage and I needed to make sure I was on my game this morning so I didn't have to deal with their bullshit chit chat later.

Warmups, position drills, and touch-n-go's were all I needed to worry about until our scrimmage later. I closed my eyes, trying to repeat that in my head, trying to focus and visualize. Not sure if that would work but some guys did it and it beat the shit out of ballet lessons with Miss Priss. If I could get right, I could talk Coach into quitting my extracurricular activities.

"Stop." Whistles blew and Coach's voice came in from the sideline. He was waving his arms and all the coaches were mimicking him to get us to gather around. Not only did he interrupt our dance, but he was interrupting our routine.

The new woman was standing beside him, her sunglasses on and her long dark hair was wavy around her shoulders. Her face was grim and for a second, I thought maybe someone died and she was the person sent to dismantle the team.

I got as close as I could but considering there were a hundred of us in camp, it was quite a crowd. The guys in the front started to kneel and when the ones right in front of me knelt, I had the perfect view.

"Guys, gonna do things a little different this morning. Instead of touch-n-go's, I want you in individual drills for the next hour. However, I want the tight ends with the quarterbacks."

The fuck?

I looked over to our quarterback, Cam Nichols, who was standing on the edge of the group. He looked just as confused as I was so whatever was up Coach's sleeve was news to us all.

"I want to introduce you to Giselle Metrovik," Coach started. My eyes shot wide and I looked back at the woman. There was no way that was Giselle. Not my Giselle. Not Miss Priss. Not Miss Sprints Through the Park at 10 pm every night.

Wait, my Giselle?

She took off her sunglasses and those eyes looked around the group of players before her. She gave a tight smile and waited for Coach to keep talking.

"She is a special consultant and will be here for a few hours. She will be taking a look at you all and trying to figure out where you are lacking."

I snorted and shook my head, catching the attention of everyone, including Giselle and Coach.

"Problem, Black?" Coach asked.

He knew what the fucking problem was. I guess I should have been thankful he referred to her as a consultant and not my ballet teacher, but this was so messed up.

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