Page 12 of 2nd and 7

Lyn scoffs, loudly. Ty and I both look at him and I chuckle when he rolls his eyes so theatrically, he should be nominated for a Golden Globe. “Ty.” There is so much imbued in those two letters. Exasperation, fondness, and a little stern brotherly love. “Ask to kiss her. Then kiss her.” He spins around and starts walking down the path toward a bench. He throws over his shoulder, “On the lips or it doesn’t count.”

“What?” Ty’s voice is strained, and it relaxes me enough to take the initiative. We’ve kissed already, I don’t know why either of us is being shy now. I put the toes of my shoes against his. Our bodies so close I can feel the warmth of him, breathe in the soothing scent of his cologne or body wash, whatever it is that makes me want to rub myself against him like a cat in heat. His eyes, normally a dark brown, seem to shine lighter as he stares down at me, his lips twitching, resisting a smile. “May I kiss you?” he husks out and I can’t do anything but nod.

One large hand on my hip, the other sliding up my neck to rub his thumb along the apple of my cheek, he brings us closer. My tits smash against his firm chest, my arms wind around his middle. He lowers his head as I raise mine and our lips meet briefly. Tenderly. One of us growls. One of us whines. And then our mouths open and our tongues meet, and I suddenly can’tget close enough to him. He tastes like chocolate and vanilla ice cream and so damn delicious.

The doors open behind us, but we don’t separate, just slow down the kiss, softening. He sips from my lips and that is the best way to describe the way he overwhelms me. It’s a connection. A promise. A beginning.

I’ve never been more excited to see what tomorrow has to offer.

Tyrone 7.

“Head Coach Brandon Beiler!” I bellow through the halls of the athletic complex. So damn happy. Happy to be back at it, on the field, the roar of the crowd echoing in my soul. Happy Heacock is locked up and Beiler is finally in charge. Happy Lyndell is here to share it with me. And happy because my girl will be on the sidelines.

It's a good day for football.

“Interim!” Beiler yells back. I shake my head as I close the distance between us.

“Dude, don’t play that game with me. It’s permanent. I know it, the university knows it, the team knows it…and you know it.”

“I don’t know it,” he mutters obstinately. My laughter fills the hallway, his lips twitching with a half-smile. “I know it, but I don’tknow it.” He stresses the last couple words.

“Know it. Trust it. Your position is permanent.” He gets a gleam in his eyes that I don’t like.

“Your position on the team could be permanent.” My smile vanishes instantly. My chest tightens uncomfortably.

“Fuck off, Brandon,” I say, my anger obvious. Why would he say such a thing to me?

He holds my glare, his eyes earnest, his expression open and hopeful. “I’m serious.”

I sigh, the weight of lost dreams and disappointment are heavy as I lean against the wall. “My arm is chewed, I can’t throw. My leg won’t withstand the abuse of being tackled.”

“No, but you can coach.”

My body locks up tight. He can’t be serious. “What?” I was not expecting that.

His smile is so big and infectious enough that my own lips stretch to match his. Excitement like anticipation thrumming through my blood. “Schedule a meeting with your advisor and I’ll be there. Let’s get you the right educational requirements and get you on the coaching staff.”

“Serious?”

“Serious.”

“I don’t…I don’t know what to say.”

Beiler’s head tips back as he laughs. “That’s a first. Tyrone Wicawiil speechless!”

“Alright, alright. It’s not that funny.” But it is. After the accident, I didn’t think I’d ever be on the field again. Then when several teammates and coaches went to bat for me with the university, they found me a way to still be a part of the action. Being the mascot has been an incredible experience…but to coach? I never thought of it, honestly. I’m in my last year of my Special Education degree. Lyndell is everything to me, and I want to help others just like him. Help them find their place in society where they can be valued rather than degraded.

Is there a way I can do that and coach football?

“I’ll think about it.”

He pats my shoulder. “Talk it over with Lyndell and perhaps a certain photographer?”

“She’s amazing,” I gush before snapping my mouth shut.

Beiler chuckles. “She is.” He continues down the corridor, tossing over his shoulder, “Schedule that appointment with your advisor and let me know so I can be there.”

“Thanks, Head Coach Brandon Beiler.”

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