Cam grabbed a football off the grass and tapped it, showing me he was about to air one down the field. I looked to Coach and then Giselle, who was watching me intently, waiting to see what I did.
I started running, ready to show them all that I could catch anything, anytime, anywhere. But when Cam called a signal, one that told me I needed to stop on the 40 yard line and turn to my right, I got my feet wrapped up and ended up with a ball ricocheting against my right shoulder.
"Damnit," I yelled, wanting to blame the mistake on my laces or something, while also rubbing the sting in my shoulder.
"Black," Coach yelled. "I want you taking passes from Nichols nonstop."
I shook my head but only at myself. Getting passes from our number one quarterback wasn’t a bad deal, but knowing it was because I had fucked up stung worse than my shoulder.
I jogged back down to stand beside Cam while the other quarterbacks and tight ends teamed up for passes of their own. Giselle was standing at the 50 yard line, her hands on her hips, and her head looking at everyone but me. It made me feel better that she was watching everyone, but I still wanted to talk to Coach.
"Coach can I talk to you?" I waved him over and gave Cam a look that asked for some privacy. Cam, being the classy guy he was, didn't even bat an eye and walked away as Coach approached.
"What's up, Black?"
"What is she doing here?" I asked with a little attitude.
"I told you she is consulting," he snapped back.
"I don't want her here," even I could tell I sounded like a fucking baby and I cringed at my own words.
"Well that isn't up to you. The only reason I haven’t already sent you to the showers this morning is so she can watch you work for a bit. The only reason I am even entertaining this conversation is because I know asking you to do ballet was a little messed up. But I do what I want and what is best for the team, not what is best for Tyson Black. So you can suck it up and play catch with Nichols, or you can sit on the bench for our first preseason game in two weeks."
With that, he turned around and casually walked off like he hadn't just put me in my place. I was an idiot for even bringing it up because he was right, he called the shots. If I wanted to play, I would play by his rules. And because my game sucked, I didn't have much room to complain.
I bit my lip and looked back to Giselle who was tapping on an iPad that she most likely pulled out of the bag she carried. She was asking Dave a few questions and he was pointing to people that weren't me.
After a minute, she must have sensed me staring because she turned her head and looked directly at me. I was the only one standing near where I was and there was no one else she could have been looking at. I held her gaze, squinting a little to show my anger, and waited for her to get intimated and look away.
She didn't.
She held my eyes while resting the iPad on her hip. She cocked her head to one side, almost a taunt, and lifted one side of her mouth in a half smile. Miss Priss knew her presence was getting to me and she was somehow finding enjoyment from it. I hadn't seen her like this before.
Granted, I didn't know her well enough to assume she was always so cold, but her personality was frigid when we were in her studio. That power suit must have been doing more for her than it was for me. She was feeling herself and finding a little fun in my agony.
I bit my lip and winked at her, doing a little taunting of my own. I slid my tongue out over my bottom lip and then across my teeth, causing her to turn a little pink. She didn't turn her head, but Cam called me and interrupted our little dance. I turned to my quarterback and team captain, giving him my attention and respect.
"Go long," he said with a smirk and I figured he saw the show Giselle and I had been giving. I didn't allow myself to dwell on it, I just took off in a sprint and listened for Cam to make a call.
When he yelled the play, I knew I needed to go left and turn at the 30 yard line, so I did and thanked the heavens above that the ball flew right into my gut—an easy catch. You'd have thought I had just put the eight ball in the corner pocket though, with the way I swaggered back to Cam, gently tossing him the ball.
Giselle had her head back in her iPad when I peaked over but I imagined her taking notes on me: "Superb catch. He is a master of his craft and quite capable of returning to his star form without my help."