Page 1 of The First Play

CHAPTER 1

ZANDER

I am so wrecked.

My muscles curse me out as I roll over in bed with a groan.

Yesterday’s away game was brutal. And it didn’t help that I got sacked in the first quarter. The crowd had a field day, screaming in triumph as I lay crumpled under the big-ass defensive end who got through our offensive line like they were welcoming him in for a fucking party. For a guy that huge, he was a stealth ninja. I didn’t even see him coming. But I felt every ounce of him.

The tackle knocked the air right out of me, but I played the rest of the game, because that’s what you fucking do when you’re a Nolan U Cougar. Coach asked me if I needed a minute, but hell no. I was fired up and ready to annihilate the Fort Collins team.

Tyrell was so pissed I got sacked, he gave his guys a rocket up the ass, and for the rest of the game, I was protected at every turn. It was like playing behind a wall of titanium warriors, and even though Fort Collins made us work for it, we won.

So, despite the aching muscles, a smile stretches over my face.

Until it drops away when I think about how much studying I have ahead of me today. It’s Sunday, which means no games, no practices, and a shit ton of schoolwork to catch up on.

“Fuck.” I scrub a hand down my face and force myself out of bed. It’s already eleven thirty, and I can hear guys up and about downstairs. I wonder if they’re mainlining coffee the way I need to right now.

I should have gone to bed as soon as we got home last night, but Grady started up the Xbox, and you don’t just turn your back on aCall of Dutyinvite. We needed to unwind anyway, and Coach had warned us about not getting off the bus and going out to party.

“You need to let your body replenish. Take some downtime, rest up, and get yourself ready for a new week on Monday. I expect you all to be in class, on time, your work up-to-date.” He clapped his hands while we all stifled groans. He was about the only college coach in the country who went on about classes and shit. He wants us to do well in every area of our lives. We’re constantly getting lectures and pep talks about our physical, mental, and spiritual well-being, and it’s not all to do with football. Coach Jones wants us to be more than just athletes. “I’m training you for life, remember. It’s more than just a game.” He pointed at us like he always does, his finger wagging in the air like a drumstick. “And I’ll see you at practice on Monday afternoon.”

Carson rolled his eyes, growling in his throat. I don’t know why. He was going to ignore Coach Jones anyway. The guy never followed the rules, much to my annoyance. I was constantly having to cover for him when all I wanted to do was smack him up the side of the head and tell him to watch himself. He’s the best wide receiver I’ve ever worked with, and if he’d stop fucking up so much off the field, I’d be a happy man. I just don’t want to see him get benched… or end up dead because of some drunken, reckless stunt he pulled at a party.

Stretching tall, I glance at my desk and the stack of books beside my laptop. I have so much work to do, but I can’t think about that right now.

“Coffee,” I croak, pulling on a pair of sweats and a crumpled T-shirt.

Clomping down the stairs, I peek my head into the living room and spot Carson slumped on the couch. He’s wearing shades and nursing a coffee mug. He must have gone out for a hookup after we finishedCall of Duty. Idiot. I shake my head and raise my chin at Wily, who’s grinning at me like he woke up on a ray of sunshine and danced through white puffy clouds on his way downstairs. His laptop is on his knees, and he’s obviously trying to study while watchingThe Punisherwith Carson. No wonder the guy is always on the edge of flunking out. He hates schoolwork with a passion, but Coach is a hard-ass. Hewillbench our asses if our schoolwork isn’t up to scratch. I’m sure the guy has gotten into plenty of arguments with the AD over it, but he refuses to let up.

“They’re not just players, dammit!”I heard him yell once.“We need to give these guys a chance at real life too!”

A grunt comes from the TV, and I spot Frank Castle punching some asshole in the face before I glance back to Wily.

“Sup, Cap?” I don’t know how the fuck he does it, but the guy is always cheerful… sometimes to the point of being fucking annoying. His big dopey smile can win over anybody, though.

“Nothin’ much. Need me some coffee.” I stroll into the kitchen and find Grady frying up a feast.

I sniff the air, my stomach rumbling. “Can I have in on that?”

“Make your own fucking breakfast.” He grins at me.

I laugh and lightly punch his shoulder before pulling out the bacon and slapping it down beside him. “Thanks, bro.”

“How many slices?”

“Gimme five with two eggs and I’ll make the toast.”

“Any hash browns?”

“Nah.” I untie the bread bag and start manning the toaster while also pouring myself a much-needed coffee.

I sip that hot brew and let out a satisfied sigh.

“Yeah, I feel ya, man. Those fuckers were like a horde of zombies yesterday,” he mutters. “I only got tackled once, but it was like being hit by a slab of concrete.”

“Tell me about it,” I mumble, turning back to the toaster. “Hey, do you know where Carson went last night?”

---