Page 106 of Blitz'd

Kerian: Love you too, Dimples.

Fuck, it never gets old for Kerian to tell me he loves me. Now that he’s said it, he’s not shy with the words. He says it as often as I do, without hesitation. I really do love that psycho.

I knock my helmet against Russ’s. “He is, but he’ll get over it. We both know who the best quarterback is.”

Russ cackles as he runs his hand over his curls before he puts on his satin lined cap to keep his hair from getting frizzy. “Let’s show Meridian whose house this is.”

Coach comes into the locker room before I can respond, giving us a rousing speech that has me feeling like I could tear the world apart with my bare hands.

We line up in the tunnel, everyone chanting and shouting, the sounds reverberating back to us. We’re all in the zone. Everyone hyped and ready to fuck shit up.

Everyone but Justin.

He sneers at me, shoving his helmet on with a pout. Coach told him he was benched for his homophobic bullshit. I guess Justin thinks I snitched on him, but he’s a non-factor, so why would I tell Coach? Either way, he’s been throwing jabs at me all week, but out of earshot of anyone else.

Fucking bitch.

We rush onto the field to loud applause and cheers, the crowd going fucking wild. Yeah, this will be a good game.

I’m further convinced of that when I lay eyes on Kerian across the field. He has on his serious,don’t fuck with meface. So fucking sexy. I know that’s just a mask he wears to show the world. I’ve seen past it, to the soft mushy center of him.

Well, he’s soft for me.

I wave at him and blow him a kiss. Before he can stop it, a smile spreads across his face, bright enough that I can see it all the way over here. We’ll have our head in the game when the whistle blows, but right now, I can flirt with my boyfriend from across the field.

At least I thought I could. “Get your head out of your ass and get ready for the fucking game, Braithe!” Coach yells, looking at me to join the huddle.

“Yes, Coach!” I say, jogging over.

He gives another mini pep talk and sends me out onto the field for the coin toss. Since both Kerian and I are captains of our respective teams, as well as the quarterbacks, it’s up to us to oversee the toss.

When we get to the middle of the field, I grin at him and hold my hand out. “Good luck, Slade.”

“You’ll need it, Braithe,” he responds, squeezing my hand as he shakes it. My grin widens as I allow him to feel like he’s winning. It’s the most he’ll get while we beat his team’s ass and I get more passing yards than him.

“Call it,” the ref calls and flicks the coin in the air. As the opposing team, Kerian gets to call the toss.

“Heads,” he says, staring me down as he says it.

The coin hits the turf and the three of us look at it. “Heads,” the ref says, and I curse. Kerian’s smirk irritates my soul. “Meridian’s ball. Good luck, gentlemen.”

“Yeah, he’ll need it,” Kerian says, jogging backward as he shoots fucking finger guns at me. I can’t help the bark of laughter that leaves my throat.

I hate to admit that Kerian was right. After the first game we played against them this season, they must have been practicing hard and watching our game tapes on fucking repeat. Kerian got a fucking touchdown on their first possession, giving me a smug look as he ran down by our sidelines. If I didn’t love him so much—and didn’t fear being tossed out of the game for roughing the passer or some shit—I’d have tripped him.

We got a touchdown on our next possession, but Meridian blew past that, getting another touchdown and a field goal. Our defense is barely able to keep up.

And as always, Kerian is on fucking fire. He scrambles in the pocket, avoiding sacks, running when he needs to and reading the field.

I’m proud of him and I fucking hate how well he’s doing all at the same time.

“God dammit,” Coach says, throwing his playbook down when Meridian gets another first down in the last quarter of the game. There are seven minutes on the clock. It’s not looking good for us. “If these Meridian fuckers win, you’ll all be running fucking suicides from dawn till fucking dusk!”

Luckily, Russ gets a fucking interception, his first of the season and runs it to the thirty-yard line before he’s tackled.

“That’s what the fuck I’m talking about!” I shout, joining the rest of my team as we jump all over Russ.

“Your boyfriend is gonna be pissed at me,” he shouts back, a wide smile on his face.

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