Page 59 of The Way We Dance

"I see him!" I clapped excitedly with Sam and watched as he explained all the other players to me.

"That’s Cam Nichols," he pointed to an extremely good looking guy with his helmet off, passing the ball back and forth with someone else. "He’s the quarterback. Best ever."

"I see. What about him?" I pointed to another guy that had the number 33 on his back.

"That’s Damien Wilson, a running back. He’s good, but honestly, he’s only as good as his offensive line."

"And who is that?" I asked questions, trying to keep him talking and showing my interest.

"The offensive line?"

"Yeah, which number is he?"

Sam looked at me like I was crazy for a second but then gently explained. "The offensive line is made up of the five guys that line up in front of the quarterback. They kinda have to be good to allow the offense time to do their thing."

I was nodding and semi-understanding, but Sam sighed heavily and added. "Just watch, you’ll see."

As Sam finished telling me about the head coach—Mr. Peyton as I liked to call him—the team made their way from their lines and to the side of the field closest to our seats.

Looking on, I saw Ty take his helmet off as he jogged in our direction. He looked up and smiled when he saw us, sending us all three a small wave. Then he took a minute to twirl his hand on top of his head and give me a thumbs up.

I turned beet red knowing he was pointing out my hair but I reminded myself that it was mine and his secret. It was supposed to be fun and I did it on purpose, there was no sense in being embarrassed. Sam had no clue.

Ty winked at me when he saw me flush but quickly turned around to his team and got down to business. The game started moments later and in no time, I found my voice yelling at the top of my lungs. Sam and I high-fived every good play and if I wasn't sure if it was a good play, he patiently held his hands up until I caught on and high-fived him.

Mrs. Watson was equally enthusiastic and I thought for a moment that it was the first time I had ever seen her that happy. The thrill had gotten to her too; and with the luxury around us and the special way we were treated, I bet she was having the time of her life.

I was now glad Ty invited them. I was especially glad he invited me, even if it was kind of forced on me. I would have missed the joy on Sam's face, the excitement on Mrs. Watson's face, and the look on Ty's face when he came back from half time and smirked at me in the crowd. He pointed two fingers at his eyes and then pointed toward the goal before taking his place on the field for the first play of the second half.

Cam Nichols ran backward a few steps and then threw the ball to Ty. The first thing I noticed was the development of his sprint, starting with the toe of his shoes and keeping his feet in the right direction. Then I noticed the leap he made, clearing over another player from the other team and catching the ball in the air.

Instead of landing and falling to the ground, he turned slightly and allowed his other foot to do some work with a landing. It was a perfect jeté and my heart soared with pride as I watched him stick the landing. Afterward, he righted himself and ran down the field to score a touchdown.

If there was any doubt that that was what was going on, it was made clear by Sam jumping up and down and pulling on my arm, yelling, "Touchdown, Ty. Touchdown, Ty."

I kept my eyes on Ty and watched as he celebrated with his teammates. They were all tapping his helmet and crowding him with joy. But once they cleared, Ty started a quick classical walk, added a less than stellar pas de chat, and then turned toward the crowd to do a Harlem ballroom vogue.

My jaw was dropped so far open, a football could have fit in my mouth. His ballet steps looked awful, and chances are, unless you were the one watching him two nights a week do the same thing, you wouldn't have a clue what he was doing.

"He always does a touchdown dance like that," Sam said, mimicking his vogue. "Not sure what that other stuff was, though."

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing because Sam said exactly what I was thinking. As smart and talented as Sam was in the art of ballet, even he couldn't tell what Ty was doing.

"That was interesting," I tilted my head and pursed my lips. "A little weird, but looked fun."

I came very close to telling Sam that Ty was mimicking our dance lessons, but Ty still didn't want anyone to know and that meant Sam as well.

Conversation with Sam moved on through the third quarter but at the end of the third, Mrs. Watson's cell phone rang.

"Hello?" I listened to her ask. “What?" her brows furrowed and she looked at Sam. "We’ll head that way right now. Piedmont?"

Shit, that was either the hospital or the mall, and my guess was the hospital.

Mrs. Watson stood as she hung up and started gathering her things.

"What happened?" I asked.

Mrs. Watson paused and looked at me, I could see tears glistening in her eyes. She looked to Sam and then back to me, debating on how much she wanted to say in his presence.

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