Page 73 of Third and Ten

“Uh, yeah. I had to go to court to say some stuff for Ethan today.”

“For Ethan, huh?”

“Yep,” I lie, popping the P sound at the end.

“Anything interesting happen while you were there?”

I shake my head, but I can sense my ears turning red.

“Aha!” she yells, pointing a chip at me.

I gulp. “What?”

She glances around the room again to make sure we’re alone. “You finally kissed Tenley, didn’t you?” she accuses in a loud whisper.

My jaw drops. “How can you tell?”

“It’s written all over your face,” she replies, shaking her head.

I press my lips together in an effort not to smile again, but she breaks character and starts giggling uncontrollably.

“I’m just messing with you. Your girlfriend already fessed up,” she admits, to my surprise. Then she reaches out to pat my arm softly. “I’m really happy for both of you, JD. Just don’t forget that you promised I could be a bridesmaid.”

“A deal’s a deal,” I grin.

And I don’t know if Tenley would even consent to being called my girlfriend much less approve of the marriage jokes, but that doesn’t stop me from strutting all the way to the football field.

Practice runs late because of the extra reps we need to prepare for the playoffs, giving Blake and Ethan more time to get in a few good roasts, but I honestly can’t be bothered. I’m untouchable. They could have told me my favorite ice-cream flavor was discontinued or that I had to clean the boys’ locker room myself this weekend, and I’d still be sporting my cheesy Tenley smile.

I follow Ethan home after practice, opting to forego the shower since it’s almost dinnertime. But Tenley’s car is missing when I pull up behind him, and he’s already laughing as he steps out of his truck.

“Looks like you’re getting the official welcome today, Coach,” he says, nodding his head toward the front porch, where his grandfather is sitting patiently in a wheelchair with his oxygen tank beside him.

“I guess I should’ve expected it.” I’m confident Tenley’s dad approves of us dating, but she is his only daughter. At least he doesn’t have a gun in his lap, though I imagine he would if he were in better health.

“Hey, Pop,” Ethan says once he passes by, slapping a gentle hand against Mr. Jude’s.

“Hey, Ethan. Why don’t you go on inside so JD and I can have a little talk?”

Ethan turns and mouths, “Good luck,” before passing through the front door.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jude,” I greet him as I climb the steps, figuring it’s best to humor him. Even though his physical and mental strength are on a sharp decline, I still have a lot of respect for Tenley’s dad.

“Afternoon, JD. Have a seat, will you?”

“Thank you, sir,” I reply, stopping to shake his hand before I sit across from him on the porch swing.

“I hear congratulations are in order,” he begins, eliciting a smile from me.

“And I hear I owe you my gratitude for putting in a good word.”

He tries to laugh, but it triggers a coughing fit, and my heart aches as I wait patiently for him to catch his breath again.

“I figured it was time I made sure you and I are on the same page, you know, with your intentions,” he says after he settles down and adjusts his oxygen supply.

“Yes, sir, I can respect that. Although I’m a little surprised to see that none of your guns needed cleaning this afternoon.”

He shakes his head, amused by my reply. “You can’t keep making me laugh if you want me to live past the end of this conversation, son.”

---