Page 17 of Fair Catch
I blew out a breath as I lined up with where the snap would be, backing up and angling myself for the run up. I wiggled my fingers at my sides, eyes locked on where Blake waited for the snap.
And then, a blissful quiet crept in.
Every molecule in my body tingled, blood buzzing, ears ringing from the noise of the team. But slowly, with a long exhale, that noise died down. My heart was steady in my chest, the next breath the only thing I heard. It was as if I was underwater, as if nothing else existed in the world except me and the ball.
The whistle blew.
The ball was snapped.
Blake caught it and lined up the laces to face away from me as our offensive line collided with the defense trying to block my kick. That sound of pads crunching from the impact was the last thing I heard before I reared back and kicked.
It was gold.
I knew it before I even watched it happen. I felt it in the way my foot connected, in the sting of the contact, in the full swing of my leg after the kick.
And as the ball sailed between the yellow posts, I had to fight down the urge to jump into the air and thrust my fist to the heavens.
Instead, I simply jogged off the field toward the sideline, indifferent to the cheers of approval from the team.
Coach almost smiled as I passed him.
“Good,” he said simply, and then he called up the other kickers for their own attempts.
My heart raced now that the kick was over, as if my body held it together until the moment it had permission to freak the fuck out. I peeled off my helmet, chugging water as I watched Shay Holmes, my biggest competition, miss his kick.
I tried not to be happy that he did.
“Nice kick, Mighty Mouse.”
I froze at the sound of his voice, gritting my teeth.
“Fuck off, Zeke.”
He laughed. “Just offering a compliment.”
I turned on him then, pausing only a moment at the sight of him drenched in sweat, his practice jersey clung to his muscles, a cocky grin plastered on his face.
“Mighty Mouse? Yeah. Such a compliment.”
“You can thank your brother for that one.”
I ignored him, focusing on the field as Coach called up his next victim. This time, he lined defense up on the field, giving the scenario for last chance to block a touchdown on third down and force a kick.
The sideline roared just like the fans would in a game, and I joined in, screaming at the top of my lungs until the ball was snapped. I couldn’t help but smile in victory when Holden’s throw was picked off by Clay Johnson, who promptly ran all the way down the field, dodging anyone who tried to tackle him in the process. He ran back with the ball above his head, and even Coach Sanders cracked a smile.
Clay was one of only a handful of players I would classify as a friend. He was a beast, six-foot-two inches and at least two-hundred pounds with the insane ability to explode off the line and move that massive body at speeds that just didn’t make sense. But he was also the goofiest sonofabitch I knew, constantly singing old songs from the sixties and razzing on any and everyone in the locker room.
I had no doubt he’d make chart.
Coach called out his next scenario, and players jogged out onto the field, all the while Zeke hung over my shoulder like a mosquito.
“Can you go somewhere else?” I wrinkled my nose. “You smell like a moldy foot.”
“Come on, Novo. You don’t have to pretend anymore. Just tell me you’re in love with me and have been since we were kids.”
He threw his arm around me, slicking my shoulder with his sweaty underarm and making me gag before I shoved him off me.
“Trust me, love is the last emotion I feel for you,” I seethed, though my cheeks burned with a traitorous heat that I prayed didn’t show as a flush.
“We’re going to be best friends by the end of this season,” he said, hanging his elbow on my shoulder. “Just wait.”
I sighed, giving up on trying to get away from him and deciding to focus on the field, instead.
After a few more drills, we were released for lunch, and Zeke jogged beside me all the way to the locker room. It was alive with laughter and music and loud voices teasing one another by the time we shoved through the doors, Zeke heading for the ice baths while I went straight for my locker.
“Nice kick, Novo,” Clay said when I slipped past him, elbowing me playfully. “You do that shit in a real game, and you’re going up on my shoulders.”
“I’ll make sure to prepare myself for that. Is the oxygen thinner up there?” I teased, shielding my squinting eyes with a hand as if I were staring up at the top of a mountain instead of the top of his head.
