Page 39 of Calling the Shots

With four minutes left, it’s a six-point game. But at least we have the ball.

Coach Carter and Coach Baker huddle together. I pace the sideline and try to think positive. I know we can do this, Carter’s pulled off tougher feats than this before. But our team’s young, and this is Langley’s first season as starting quarterback. The kid’s still green, even if he is talented.

Sandalwood blocks the first two passes and Langley’s shaking his head, his fingers flexing around the ball. Coach Carter calls a timeout and waves Langley over, giving him a quick pep talk. The cheerleaders pump up the crowd during the brief delay and I scan the stands. Tons of people I know fill the seats, but only one stunning blonde catches my attention.

Gracelyn.

Wearing a Thunder Creek High T-shirt stretched tight across her ample breasts and a pair of ripped denim shorts that barely cover her upper thigh, she’s gorgeous. And surrounded by a big group of guys I don’t recognize. Of course I don’t, seeing as how she’s a decade younger than me. I force my gaze back to the field, gut churning.

I have no right to be upset she’s hanging out with other guys. She called it off.

Still, jealousy rips through me, white flashes of light dancing in my peripheral vision, neck burning.

Focus, Mack. This is definitely not the time.

The whistle blows and Langley walks back out on the field, his mouthguard moving up and down as he gnaws it nervously. He catches the snap and lobs the ball twenty yards down the field to an open receiver. The kid runs for ten more yards and we have another first down.

Two minutes left to score and win the game. I hear the tick of the clock in my head, the red numbers counting the seconds down one by one. Langley throws another good pass and we move down the field, but we’re still twenty yards away from the end zone with one minute and thirty seconds left to play.

We have to score here or the game’s over.

Langley winds up and tosses the ball to the far right. The wide receiver catches it and the crowd goes wild, the band starting the school’s fight song and everyone cheering.

The kicker takes the field and I hold my breath as he makes contact with the ball.

“And it’s good! Thunder Creek beats Sandalwood!”

The cheerleaders chant, the band plays, the dance team runs onto the field, and our players high-five as the other team hangs their heads in defeat.

I spin my head around and stare up at the stands. Part of me hopes Gracelyn waves or smiles at me, acknowledges my presence somehow. But she’s chatting with the guys next to her, oblivious to my presence.

Chest tight, I turn my attention back to the happy whoops of the team and try to block out the hollow feeling in my gut.

I’ve never been less excited about a win in my life.

CHAPTER13

MACK

Despite my crashing mood, I hit Mustang’s with Carter and Baker. More out of a sense of duty than an actual desire to celebrate our win, but I’m here.

We press through the thick crowd, making a beeline to the bar. People stop Coach Carter every two seconds, congratulating him on the hard-won victory. A few of the men offer up coaching tips, which is something else considering I know a few of them never played one second of football in their damn lives. Carter takes it all in stride, and I’m reminded again why I have no desire to be the head coach.

After what seems like an eternity, we finally make it to the bar. There are two open seats and I magnanimously offer them to Baker and Carter. I’m too amped up after the game to sit down, anyway. Although I have a sneaking suspicion a good portion of the buzzy energy churning through me has more to do with seeing Gracelyn and less to do with football. But I’d rather not dwell on that right now.

The bartender takes our drink order and Carter and Baker settle in, with me hovering behind them.

“Good game, Carter,” Baker says, cracking his knuckles. “I was nervous there for a second, but we somehow pulled it out.”

Carter rolls his shoulders, adjusts his Thunder Creek ball cap. “It was a close one. But I knew we could do it. Good zone coverage strategy at the end there, Mack.”

“Thanks.” I nod, accepting the beer bottle from the bartender and take a long slug. “That kid from Sandalwood’s real good. I see why he’s already getting picked up.”

“We’ll be playing that team again in the playoffs, I’m betting,” Baker says. “And now they’ll know our plays. We’re going to have to keep getting better if we want to win state.”

Carter shrugs. “We will, boys. Keep the faith.” He lifts his drink and scoots back in his seat, giving me a clear view down the length of the bar.

And there she is, laughing and talking with the same guys from the football stadium. Gracelyn, the neon lights from the bar lighting her up and making her glow even brighter. The beer swirls in my stomach as she smiles at the man next to her, throwing her head back and laughing. The familiar, high-pitched tinkle floats across the room, hitting me hard in the chest.

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