Page 23 of Maverick
REESE
Maverick hadn’t spokento me since Saturday night. Granted, two days may not have been a long time in the grand scheme of things, but it felt like forever. When I woke up alone Sunday morning, I tried not to think anything of it. I was a heavy sleeper and without my alarm, I was the last one in the house to drag myself downstairs. Talking to Maverick would just have to wait.
Now, as we warmed up on the field, I didn’t miss the glances he kept throwing my way—but I could also see him looking at Quinton the same way. Jealousy spiked so aggressively that I rubbed at my chest to will it away. I couldn’t get jealous over him, not anymore. I’d made that clear before and I couldn’t expect one drunken hookup to change his mind. It was going to take so much more than that to prove to him I meant it.
And if he never wanted to speak to me again—as much as it would hurt—I’d have to accept that.
Still, the heat of his body against mine when we lined up to watch the coin toss was pure torture. Whether he’d chosen to standdirectly behind mewas a conscious choice or not, I wasn’t sure, but it made me… squirmy. The way he fought to catch his breath, winded from the warmups was way too similar to what he sounded like when he was about to?—
“Heads! Black Bears defer their choice to the second half. The Yellowhammers have the ball.”
The time for dwelling over Maverick Crawford was over. The ball was set on a tee in the middle of the field, and both teams lined up: defense first, and offense behind them. Electricity sizzled in the air. Every man on the field practically vibrated with energy. In fifteen pounds of gear with the sweltering Alabama sun beating down on us, my back was already drenched in sweat. Our team’s kicker strode up to the tee, increasing his speed until he dashed and his foot connected with the ball.
Twenty-two pairs of feet jumped into action. The ball soared overhead, nearly disappearing in the blinding late-afternoon light before it dropped toward the ground. A runner on the Black Bears stretched his hand out, and the ball made contact. He ducked and dived, dipping toward the sideline in an attempt to rush toward the end zone—but he wasn’t fast enough. Players gained on him, and his eyes darted left and right, searching for an opening.
I knew this guy’s moves—I’d studied him. Right on cue, he rotated over his left shoulder to face the mass of players surrounding him. His right arm reared back…
And I leapt into the air, intercepting the pass.
Size was great for a football player, but most underestimated the benefits to being smaller, more lithe.
No oneexpected the little ones to be good players.
I pivoted and sped in the opposite direction, weaving between those large bodies like my life depended on it. Finally, I found a gap. Unlike the unlucky player who’d messed up the pass, I didn’t need tolookat who stood there. Operating off pure instinct, I whirled around and snapped the ball to my left—straight into the hands of our quarterback. The heat was off me, but my job wasn’t finished.
Jake swiveled and sprinted toward our end zone.My heart pounded in my ears, a thundering beat with each footfall. The entire play only lasted seconds, but it felt like hours.
A linebacker lunged for Jake, but he was faster. Mav intercepted a block from his right; I shoved off another player to my left. Lines and colors blurred, crimson and navy fusing together in a flurry of bodies.
And then it all stopped.
Jake crossed the goal line—touchdown for the Yellowhammers.
Game on.
The Black Bears gave as good as they got. The entire game was neck and neck, with no one being able to predict who would ultimately come out on top. The heat and humidity made it that much harder to breathe. In between quarters, I ripped off my helmet to chug as much water as I could. Each time I did, I swore I felt eyes on me, only to find no one watching. However, I could feel Maverick’s presence like a heavy shadow looming over me. As we broke for halftime and retreated to the locker room, I tried not to stare when he shook out his sweaty curls but… he was justthere. Damn it, he shouldn’t look so good if he didn’t want me watching him.
His skin glistened in the sunlight. Sweat beaded on the ends of his hair and dripped into his face. And as his tongue darted out to lick a drop away from his top lip…
My water bottle crashed into my teeth. Quinton stood there, a knowing grin on his face. “Sorry—you looked thirsty.” He winked at me, then continued on his way.
I still hadn’tcaughtMaverick looking my way, but at least now his lip quirked into that grin that drove me wild. The team’s medic approached him, instructing him to sit to have a friction burn on his arm checked. Turning my back to him, Idrenched my head with the water. I needed to calm the fuck down.
I wasn’t closeted by any means, but I wasn’touteither. If someone asked, I’d happily tell them, but I wasn’t sure if Maverick shared that sentiment. To put some distance between us, I found a seat on the other side of the room, accepting a protein bar from Jake as I listened to the coach’s strategy for the second half of the game.
Back on the field, the feeling that I was being watched lingered, and Mav started to stumble. There were one too many close calls where he didn’t shed a block properly, and every single one only served to make me angrier. Iknewwhat he was doing wrong, and I could tell him how to fix it—he just wouldn’t listen to me. Every time I got close to him, he would move the opposite way.
By the last quarter, I was getting frustrated. Hehadto listen to me one way or the other.
The game was close, and it all came down to a single touchdown. Currently, we stood in the sidelines, waiting for a time out to be over. While Maverick was distracted, I wove my way through the rest of the players and approached him from behind. If he didn’t see me coming, maybe I could get my words out before he walked away.
Unfortunately, he zeroed in on my presence the moment I got within five feet of him. Rolling his eyes, he tried to scurry off again, but I was faster. “Mav, wait,” I called, grabbing his arm.
He froze in place, but the way he glared down at my hand made me wish I was six feet under instead. I let go, fully expecting him to leave.
He didn’t.
“Taylor?” he questioned instead, glancing around us as if someone would catch us. I’d be lying if I said that hearing him using my last name didn’t hurt. Yeah, we were on the field, but… it wouldn’t have tipped anyone off.
