Page 78 of Fair Catch
“You did it,” Riley remarked with a smile, looping her arms around my neck as I pulled her tight body into mine. I was already hard and aching and desperate to be inside her.
“And now, I’m going to do you.”
She snorted a laugh. “Oh, my God, Zeke.”
But before she could make fun of me for the lame line, I whipped her around and bent her over, her hands catching the shower wall as a gasp of surprise flew from her parted lips.
I lowered to my knees, arched her back more, spread her cheeks, and ran my tongue from her swelling bud all along her slick seam.
As I reaped my reward, I smiled at how she lost the ability to make any more jokes.
“Oh, God. I can’t look.”
Riley squeezed my forearm so hard I winced before she closed her eyes, only to creak her lids open enough to peek through as our offense lined up on the twenty-two-yard line. The blistering wind whipped against our faces, skin pink and breath puffing out in clouds of white.
With only twenty-six seconds left on the clock, we were down by three, and everything hinged on the next couple of plays.
If we got a few more yards and got out of bounds, we’d likely try again. Coach would love to see a touchdown to end the game rather than a kick to take us into overtime.
But if the Eagles defense stopped us, Riley would be going in for a kick.
In thirty-degree weather with the wind gusting twenty-five miles an hour.
It wasn’t the worst wind she’d face in her time as a kicker, but I knew the pressure was mounting, knew how nervous she was even though she’d already made a field goal this game and sealed every extra point kick, too.
“Breathe,” I told her, and as soon as I said the word, the ball was snapped.
I went against my own advice, breath lodged in my chest as I watched Holden throw a pass right into Kyle’s hands. Our sideline erupted, especially when Kyle managed to get out of bounds with thirteen seconds left.
A first down sealed and only seven yards from the goal line now, Coach didn’t even hesitate, giving Holden the signal that we weren’t ready to kick yet. It was a risky call, because that meant we had thirteen seconds to either score, or get out of bounds with enough time to still kick.
Holden huddled the team together to call the play, clapped his hands, and then they were on the line again.
“Come on, come on,” I prayed.
“Get ready, Novo,” Coach Aarons said behind us, and Riley snapped into action, pulling on her helmet. She’d already been sending practice kicks into the net, staying warm just in case.
The snap came, and Holden held the ball steady in the pocket, eyes scanning the possible receiver options.
But there were none.
They were all covered, and my heart raced as I watched Holden tick through the options discovering the same.
But then…
An opening.
Just a marginal gap, but Holden saw it and acted quick. Tucking the ball into his stomach, he charged up the middle, around where two linemen were matched up and—
“TOUCHDOWN!” Clay screamed in my ear, jumping onto my shoulders as the rest of the team exploded off the sideline, too.
Holden threw his hands up in the air just in time to be swept up by the receivers, all of them clapping him on the shoulders and helmet before they were joining us on the sideline.
Riley high-fived Holden on her way out to kick the extra point, which was good, and ran down the last seconds on the clock.
I almost felt sorry for the home team, for their fanbase that stood mostly in shock as they watched those seconds tick down and saw that we’d come out with the win after that last drive. But that feeling was quickly washed away by the euphoria of securing another win.
Of most likely securing our spot in the playoffs.
We never knew in college football. It was all a gamble, a weird system of media voting that decided who were the top teams, who would have those top two bowl games that lead up to the championship.
But tonight, I didn’t give a shit what any media outlet reported.
It felt like we were on top.
And nothing could stop us now.
It took everything in me not to pull Riley into my arms when we all jogged out onto the field, when the swarm of reporters swallowed us up. I wanted to hold her. I wanted to lift her up on my shoulders. I wanted to kiss her right there for everyone to see.
My ribs cracked with the restraint, with the aching reminder that she didn’t want that, that she likely never would.
Casual.
I could still hear her saying the word, could still see how easily she said it that day we hashed it all out.
