Page 18 of Fair Catch
He gave me a goofy grin.
“Besides, it might be me who needs to carry you in celebration,” I combatted. “A pick six? You didn’t have to show out that much.”
“When it’s a week before Depth Chart Day? Yes, I did.”
“Touché.”
Kyle slid between us without warning, his phone shoved in my face first and then Clay’s.
“Ooooh, what’s this? Doest me smell romance in ze air?”
I rolled my eyes as Clay shoved Kyle back. “Go cook up drama for your show somewhere else, Robbins.”
“Seems like there’s plenty cooking right here.” He shoved his phone back in my face. “Novo, tell us — is Clay’s cock as big as his ego?”
I was two seconds away from knocking my fist back and socking Kyle in the nose Helga Pataki style when he was ripped backward by his t-shirt, and Zeke caught him just before his back slammed into the lockers. All he did was glare at him, that shirt still clenched in his fist, but Kyle shut up.
Zeke released him, and Kyle gave me a little wink before skipping off to annoy someone else.
“Ignore him,” Clay said. I knew he was talking about Kyle, but I had my laser beam gaze fixed on Zeke.
“Stop doing that,” I said, trying to keep my voice low and resist the urge to shove him into the lockers.
“Handling your light work?”
“Trying to save me,” I combatted through gritted teeth. “Or protect me or whatever it is you think you’re doing. You’re not my knight in shining armor, and I’m not a helpless little princess, okay? I can handle myself. If you just give me the fucking chance to.”
“He was being a disrespectful ass,” Zeke said, his eyes narrowing. “I didn’t realize you were the only one allowed to point that fact out and put him in his place.”
I stepped into him, my chest bumping his rib cage. His eyes slipped to where my modest cleavage was visible, one eyebrow arching at the sight, and that made me narrow my eyes even more.
“Every time you fight a battle for me, you make me look weaker.”
“You act like you’re so special. I’d snuff out Kyle’s annoying buzz for anyone on this team. I’m just being a friend.”
“You’re not my friend.”
The corner of Zeke’s mouth lifted as he looked down his nose at me. “Just your roommate?”
I realized then that this was exactly what he wanted — to get under my skin.
I cracked my neck, stepping back and turning to my locker long enough to rip my shirt overhead. I swore I felt those dark eyes searing my skin until I had a fresh tank top on, and then I grabbed my badge and water bottle and stomped off toward the cafeteria without another look in his direction.
I was so focused on calming my breaths that at first I didn’t notice it, the eyes that followed me through the locker room and down the hall. Slowly, they crept in on me, and I wondered if they’d all watched that scene unfold, if they were all placing bets on who I was fucking.
Typical.
But the more players I passed, the more those stares became smiles, and nods, and even a few mumbled affirmations that I couldn’t quite make out.
Once I had my food and sat down at one of the tables in the cafeteria, I recognized it.
Respect.
It radiated off every pair of eyes that found me. No, it wasn’t the whole team, but it was certainly more than I’d had before that point.
I was used to eating by myself, but Holden took the seat across from me as soon as I sat down, and the rest of the table filled quickly with players who hadn’t said more than a word to me all camp.
No one praised me. No one called attention to my kick. But there was an unspoken alliance there, like I was finally part of the team.
It felt like more of a victory than the kick itself.
Zeke
On the Monday before our season opener against the East Virginia Vikings, Coach Sanders released the depth chart.
Depth Chart Day was huge in college football and had been for as long as I could remember. I used to watch ESPN all day with Dad when I was younger, and we’d high five over the predictions we made that were right, and research the players who surprised us and charted when we didn’t expect it.
“One day, it’ll be your name on a chart like that. It’ll be you they’re all talking about,” he’d said to me.
I remember how my chest had puffed with the thought, how my smile had nearly split my face. Dad had faith in me. He knew without a single doubt that I’d have a future in football.
I longed for that excitement now, for that confidence, but instead, I found myself trembling a bit as I gathered with the rest of the team around Coach in the center of the field after practice. The sun beat down on our backs, sweat dripping into our eyes, and we all had our focus on the man who would determine our future.
