Page 1 of Red Zone
1
LYLA
The first day of senior year should feel like a victory lap. Instead, it feels like walking a tightrope in heels.
The Pacific Coast University athletic facility buzzes with morning energy—cleats clatter on pavement, whistle blasts pierce the air, and the ever-present scent of turf and testosterone hangs heavy.
I roll my shoulders back as I cross the lot, tablet tucked against my side, trying not to scowl. I’ve got twenty minutes to meet with the head of player media before sprinting to my internship orientation, and my dad, the prolific PCU football coach changing the history of the team, Jack Harding, would love nothing more than for me to be late.
You’d think being the head football coach’s daughter would buy me some leniency.
It doesn’t.
It just means people watch harder, waiting, maybe even hoping for you to mess up.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket.
Madison: u survive first contact with the enemy yet?
I don’t have time to text back before the sound of a whistle followed by a grunted “Heads up!” yanks my attention toward the field.
Too late.
A football whips through the air and smacks the pavement just inches from my sneakers, skidding to a stop at my feet. I stare down at it for a beat, pulse jumping for a moment, then slowly look up.
Fuck my life.
Carter Hayes jogs toward me, grinning like he’s the damn sun.
“Princess,” he calls, sweat glistening along his jaw as he lifts the hem of his practice shirt to wipe his face. Of course, he has a six pack that draws my gaze right to it. “You’re supposed to catch those.”
“And you are supposed to know how to aim,” I shoot back, kicking the ball toward him with the toe of my white sneaker.
He catches it one-handed, spinning it around lazily in his palm. “I did. You were just too slow.”
I arch a brow. “Are you planning to hit all your receivers that far off this year, or am I just special?”
“You’re definitely something,” he says, eyes scanning me—slow and shameless. He winks. “Not sure it’s special, though.”
I don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Just turn on my heel and head toward the tunnel.
His laughter follows me like a shadow.
God, he’s insufferable.
And stupid hot, which honestly makes it worse. Judge me all you want, but I’m not blind.
Carter Hayes is everything I’ve spent the last three years avoiding. A golden boy with a bad reputation and a smile designed to make girls forget how big of a playboy he is. He parties like it’s an actual part of his training regimen and seems physically allergic to shirts.
He’s also the star quarterback of my father’s football team.
Add in the fact that he’s my best friend’s ex-hookup turned friend, you could say that I am cursed with his presence. Constantly.
Especially now that my internship with the athletic department has been extended to include media strategy and player branding, which, of course, includes the starting quarterback. His face is half the university’s fall marketing campaign, right along with our super star new transfer, Jaxon Montgomery. Posters, ads, press releases—those two are everywhere.
Lucky me.
I swipe my badge at the side entrance, slipping into the cool hallway that runs beneath the stands.
