Page 44 of Fair Catch
I tried to be understanding. He didn’t want another repeat of what happened at our last home game, so he took me out when he saw the warning signs and put my backup in. It was smart. It made sense.
But I was pissed.
And more than that — I was hurt.
Zeke sat down next to me, so quietly that I didn’t notice until his knee brushed mine. His pants had grass stains already, and he balanced his elbows on his knees, eyes on the game as he said, “You good?”
It wasn’t the time to talk about how I was feeling — he and I both knew that.
But I appreciated that he was checking on me, anyway.
I nodded, and so did he, then his hand slid over my knee, just a fraction of an inch higher, and squeezed as his eyes found mine.
Two seconds.
Maybe only one.
It was so quick, such a thoughtless, simple touch of reassurance before he was up off the bench and walking over to stand and watch on the sideline with the rest of special teams.
But my skin burned from where his hand had been.
I bit my bottom lip, stifling a groan as I internally rolled my eyes at how pathetic it was that such a small touch could set me on fire like that.
But then, my eyes popped open.
Wait a second…
I thought about our last game, about how I’d spent the night before… taking the edge off… as Zeke had suggested. I thought it was kind of ludicrous at first but, now…
Maybe it really did help.
I slept great that night, and woke up feeling fresh and ready to go. I also then had one of the best weeks of performance in practice since I’d made chart.
I couldn’t shake the thought as the game progressed, and at the end of the fourth, we had won by nine points.
Without me.
I should have been happy for my team — and I was. I was. I jumped on Holden’s back on the field, joined in Leo’s chants in the locker room, and even let Kyle talk me into doing a stupid dance for his TikTok.
But my gut was sour the whole time, because as much as I was happy we’d won, I was devastated that I wasn’t a part of it.
It gave me a brief look at what it might be like to be injured, to have to sit out a game, or a few games, or even an entire season and not be able to do anything about it.
Except… I wasn’t hurt.
I could do something about it.
I was putting in the reps with Zeke. I was working hard at practice. But still, I was tense, stressed, crumbling under the pressure of balancing school and football in a way I never had before.
Part of me wanted to knock myself upside the head for even considering that Zeke might have a point about finding a… release. It sounded so juvenile, and I wanted to point out to both him and myself that there were a thousand other ways to find stress relief.
But the bigger part of me couldn’t deny how good it had felt to give into that urge in the shower before last week’s game, how I’d felt light as air after, floating on a cloud of bliss until my head hit the pillow and I slept better than I had in weeks.
It had been a long time since I’d touched myself.
It had been even longer since I let someone else do it.
After what happened with Gavin, I’d shut down, all my focus going to football. Peter, my then-boyfriend and the guy who took my virginity, couldn’t handle it. He didn’t like who I’d become — quiet, severe, a girl on a mission. And after we broke up, I couldn’t find the time or energy to care about finding someone else. Sure, I’d hooked up with a couple of guys when the time lined up, at a party or after a game win. But it was never anything more than that.
I was in a relationship with football. I didn’t need a boyfriend.
But now, I wondered if maybe I did. Or, if not a boyfriend, perhaps just someone to have fun with.
And I didn’t know if it was stupid, or if I’d end up regretting it, but I knew — at the very least — I had to try it.
So, on the bus ride back to campus, I downloaded a dating app, made a bio, and started swiping.
Zeke
“Whatcha doing?” I asked Riley in the locker room after a night practice the following week, snatching the phone out of her hand before she knew I was even in grabbing range.
“Hey!” She jumped, trying to get it before I hiked it higher than she could reach.
I arched an eyebrow as I stared at the dating profile staring back at me, one for some toolbag named Tristan who had a picture too professional-looking for an app known mostly for hook-ups.
