Page 2 of How to Score Off Field

When I was fourteen, and we were all in high school, I prayed every day that I would bump into him in the hallway between classes. But we rarely did because freshmen and juniors didn’t have class on the same floors, and everything was separated by wings. Freshmen ate with freshmen, sophomores ate with sophomores, and on and on and on.

Then one day when I was eating lunch, there was a commotion at the front of the cafeteria near the vending machines, and a small group of football players walked in, wearing their home jerseys and carrying flyers.

Drew Colter was among them.

I knew it was him instantly. He didn’t have the same arrogance his brother Drake had, and he hung back from the group the way he usually did.

I watched as the boys walked around from table to table, handing out those flyers, smiling down at the pretty girls and flirting.

“Oh my god, they are so. Hot.”

My friends Charity, Bev, and Tosha stopped cackling about whatever story Charity had been sharing to stare, all of us holding our breath as the football players weaved in and out, like gods among us, for football was the only thing anyone in this town gave a shit about.

Three tables away.

Two.

“Hey, Tess.” Drew handed me a flyer with a smile, my name on his full, pouty lips, his white teeth peeking through.

I opened my mouth to reply, but they were already gone.

“Oh. My. God,” Charity said dramatically. “Drew. Colter. Said. Your. Name.”

I rolled my eyes, pretending to be unfazed. “I’m Grady’s sister. He has to be nice to me.”

My brother and Drew had become fast friends that night after the pizza party three years ago, spending most of their downtime running plays, hanging out in our basement, or at Drew’s house, swimming in his pool.

The Colters lived on a ranch, and their dad was never around, but it was a sprawling house with a massive pool that even had one of those slides you see at the water park—it even had a pool house with a kitchen full of snacks.

I’d only been there once when the Colters hosted a party. Mrs. Colter had wanted help, so Mom dragged me over as an extra set of hands.

I’d refused to take my tee shirt and shorts off to get in the pool.

I was twelve that year and flat-chested, and I didn’t want anyone looking at my skinny, pale legs. Besides, my mom would only allow me to wear a one-piece, and I considered it dorky and childish, and it was embarrassing.

So I’d stood there baking in the Texas sun, watching Drew and his glistening skin while he bobbed in the blue pool water.

“He doesn’t have to be nice to you,” Bev had pointed out. “His brother isn’t.”

“Drake Colter isn’t nice to anyone he isn’t dating,” Tosha pointed out.

“Drake Colter doesn’t date.” Bev laughed.

“Exactly.” Tosha made her point with a loud laugh, and I glanced over at the boys to ensure they hadn’t heard us.

But they were already gone, and I picked up the flyer, my eyes trailing over the words THE GRIDIRON CLUB NEEDS YOU!

The Gridiron Club was the name of the football boosters who raised money to pay for the lights on the football field, keeping the concession stand stocked, and put the team in fancy new uniforms every season.

“They’re fundraising for a team that’s not even part of the school.” Bev snorted. “Lame.”

I folded the flyer and tucked it in my lunch box.

I knew I wouldn’t get to go to the fundraiser unless my parents planned on attending, but I kept it anyway—because Drew had handed it to mepersonally.

“Hey, Tess.”

He’d said my name.

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