Page 35 of Red Zone
“You’re late,” she says, lifting a to-go cup toward me.
I drop into the seat across from her, grateful for the steam rising from the lid of the coffee she hands me. She knows me too well.
“Thanks,” I mutter, blowing across the lid.
She watches me over the rim of her coffee. “So…anything you’d like to tell me?”
I blink, too quickly.
Play it cool.
“Like what?”
Madison gives me a look.Thelook. The one that says don’t even try me right now.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she says casually, taking a slow sip. “Like why Carter’s hoodie was in your backseat, and is now on my body?”
I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again.
“Nothing happened,” I say, too fast.
Her eyebrows shoot up. “That’s a weird way to start a sentence about nothing.”
I sigh, curling my fingers tighter around the warm cup in my hands before telling her what happened last night.
“It was a stupid mistake. It didn’t mean anything.”
Madison snorts. “Right. Totally believable. You accidentally climbed on top of him and made out until your clothes were half off.”
“I’m serious,” I say, sharper than I mean to. “It’s not going to happen again.”
Madison holds up both hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. No judgment. I just…don’t think you’re the type to do things that don’t mean anything.”
I look away, swallowing hard.
That’s the problem.
11
CARTER
The stadium hums with that pre-kickoff buzz—low and rising, like a storm about to break.
Helmet in hand, I stretch my neck side to side, rolling out the tension I’ve been carrying all week. Another Saturday, another shot to prove I’m not just hype. Another chance to get us one step closer to playoffs.
“Yo,” Jaxon jogs up beside me, already strapped in and ready. “You good?”
I nod, eyes scanning the tunnel ahead. “Always.”
He lifts a brow like he doesn’t quite believe me but doesn’t push it. That’s one thing I like about him—he keeps his intensity on the field and doesn’t ask questions off it.
“You see the defense we’re up against?” he says, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Linebackers look hungry.”
I grin. “Then let’s make ’em starve.”
Jaxon smirks and claps my shoulder as I fasten my helmet. “Let’s eat.”
We bump helmets before stepping into the tunnel, the roar of the crowd swelling like thunder as we jog out onto the field.
