Page 82 of Fair Catch
“And I’m on cleanup duty.” Zeke stood abruptly and saluted like a soldier before I punched him in the gut and made the breath oof out of him.
He glanced around us, making sure none of the other guys were paying attention before he briefly reached out and squeezed my hand.
“It’s going to be okay,” he assured me, reading right through the nerves I was trying to hide. “Gavin will understand. And if he doesn’t, we’ll handle it. Together. Okay?”
I sighed, but smiled at knowing he would be there every step of the way. “Okay.” Then, a smile curved on my lips. “This is kind of cute, you know. Us being all domestic — me shopping for dinner, you cleaning up for guests.”
“Next thing you know, we’ll have shows we only watch together.”
“Sounds so lame,” I said, but I smiled still before lowering my voice. “I can’t wait.”
Zeke squeezed my hand with a grin once more before dropping it, clearing his throat as he looked around. His eyes found mine again, and I knew without him saying a word what he wanted in that moment.
To kiss me.
But he resisted, offering me a wink instead before he turned for the locker room door.
Before he could take three steps, we both jolted at our names being called.
“Novo, Collins,” Coach Sanders said, his voice deep and commanding.
We followed the sound of his voice to where he stood in the doorway of his office, his expression unreadable other than he certainly wasn’t calling us in for praise.
He didn’t say anything else, either — just stood there waiting, an unspoken demand to get our asses in his office stat.
Zeke and I shared a look before we dropped our bags on the nearest bench and jogged over, Zeke taking one chair as I took the other.
Coach shut the door behind us, pulling the blinds on the window closed, and then circled his desk to plop down in his own chair.
A pregnant pause hung between us, Coach swallowing as he looked at where his hands were folded together on his desk. He opened his mouth to speak, shut it again, and then lifted his gaze to glare at each of us.
Shit.
He knows.
Panic zipped through me at the same time Zeke’s hand shifted on his armrest — just an inch, enough for me to know that he was mentally trying to calm me. He couldn’t grab my hand in real life, but he wanted me to know that he was right there, that it would be okay.
Breathe, I could hear him say in my head.
And so I forced the best inhale I could muster, letting it out with shaky restraint.
“I’ve got to be honest,” Coach finally said. “I’m so goddamn mad I could flip this fucking desk and knock both of you out with it.”
The knot in my chest tightened, and I was thankful I was sitting with my hands tucked under my thighs so Coach couldn’t see the way they shook in that moment.
“To have two of my most promising freshmen pull some stupid shit like this…”
He shook his head, and I swore he was breathing smoke when Zeke cleared his throat and said, “Sir, we can explain.”
“Explain?” Coach cut him off with a sardonic laugh. “Oh, please. Please explain how either of you think cheating is in any way excusable as a college athlete or a student period.”
Zeke’s mouth hung open, and we both frowned in confusion together, my head tilting to the side as I tried to figure out what the hell Coach was talking about.
“Sir?” Zeke asked.
Coach sniffed, pushing back in his chair long enough to pull two paper-clipped stacks of paper out of his desk drawer. He plopped them on the desk, looking at us expectantly while I frowned even more.
The stack on top was recognizable — the first page of Zeke’s economics essay, complete with his name and email at the top of it. But when Coach tilted it to the side to reveal my essay from last semester beneath it, I just shook my head.
“I don’t understand.”
“Professor Marks delivered these to me this morning,” Coach calmly explained. “He regretted to inform me that my star receiver, Zeke Collins, had plagiarized a teammate’s paper.” His eyes snapped to mine then. “Our kicker — Riley Novo.”
My jaw unhinged, and I was already shaking my head and ready to defend when Zeke beat me to it.
“That’s ridiculous! I didn’t—”
“Be careful with what you say next, son, because I’ve got a lot of proof in these pages.” Coach held up his paper and thumped it against his hand, face red as he waited for Zeke to rethink what he was about to say.
“Zeke,” I managed when he fell silent. “Tell him.”
Zeke swallowed, his face going ashen. And when he didn’t speak…
Bile rose in my throat.
“You didn’t…” I whispered.
