Page 49 of Iris

She again counted the offense, eyes on the line. But this time, when the ball snapped, she peddled back, keeping a wider range of vision, not unlike she had when playing back judge. See the field, only now she couldn’t zero in on the ball but had to feel the play develop, her gaze on the blockers.

There, a hold by the offensive guard. She threw down her flag just as the running back swept by her. He was stopped at the line of scrimmage, and she signaled to Yannick the penalty, offering up the number with her fingers.

He called it off and moved the ball fifteen yards.

She got a look from the offensive player as he went to the huddle, but ignored it because,bam, that’s how it was done.

They ran three sets of downs, and she started to feel the play, see the rhythm. Sure, she’d officiated as ump before in the NCAA, but only once in the ELF.

Really, she loved this position. From here, she watched the play develop, saw the potential, felt in the middle of the gritty scrimmage-line action. Brutal, with grunts and shouts and nothing like the open field ballet of wide receivers. Reminded her, in a way, of high-school football, and being right there on the sidelines, listening to her team fight it out.

The Thunder broke for a water break, and trainers ran out onto the field.

The teams usually provided officials with their own water personnel, but today she walked over to the side and picked up her water bottle. She preferred her own bottle, sanitized before every game. The last thing she wanted was a bottle slurped by the men. Hers was pink, so that helped them stay away too. She opened it and drank.

“We’re done here,” Yannick said as he walked up. Zach and the other four officials joined them—the sub now and side judge, Roque Franco from Spain, the line judge, a Hungarian named Milos Sallali, the down judge, a German Arne Fischer, and their field judge, a Czech named Jakub Janota. “The Thunder need us to clear off the field—but they are expecting you all tonight at the charity dinner.”

She lowered her bottle and managed not to spit out the water. “What?”

“Yeah. It’s black tie—or black dress, if you want.” He shot at look at Iris. “But it’s for the International Children’s Cancer Society, so it’s must-attend. The ELF wants to see all their people there, and for some reason, that includes the zebras.”

Great.

Fine.

Perfect.

Zach looked at her, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

Maybe Hudson wouldn’t even be there.

Zach grinned, and she capped her water bottle and walked away.

“There’s a limo picking everyone up from the hotel at five!” Yannick shouted after her.

She turned. “I’m not at the hotel. I’m staying in an Airbnb.”

“Text me the address. We’ll pick you up.”

Apparently, she was going. Inside the officials’ locker room, she gathered up her gear just as Zach walked in.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“What?”

“Whatever snarky quip was on your lips about Hudson being at the dinner.”

“What quip might that be?”

“You know, the one about how maybe I should wear a dress and see if this ‘barely friends’ thing is true, to which I’d just say it doesn’t matter because, hello, conflict of interest, but yes, the season is over, officially, so maybe we could go on a date, but how is that going to end up anywhere but tragic, because I’m not quitting my job, and last I checked neither was he, so come June, when the season starts back up, it’s quitsville for us, even if we did get along, which maybe we don’t, because maybe this was all some sort of weird, off-the-hook circumstances, so no thanks, I’m not interested in getting a dress. Or heels. Or whether or not he might be wearing some awesome-looking tux.”

Zach nodded. “Yep. That was the quip.”

“Really, I’m not wearing a dress.”

“That would be crazy talk.”

She picked up her backpack. Looked at him. “Promise you’ll be there?”

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