Blind Side(16)

He paused, glancing down at the clipboard in his hand before he thumped his fist against it.

“I didn’t take any decisions with this lightly. And I want you all to remember that nothing’s permanent. You might have a number one spot and then get taken out before our season opener next week. You might be slated number three and end up starting. So, no matter where you are, keep working hard, and keep your eye on the prize. Understood?”

“Yes, Coach,” we all responded in sync.

He nodded. “I’ll hang it outside my office after practice so you can see it first,” he said. “At five this evening, it’ll be released online for the rest of the nation to see. I expect you all to be ready for media after film meetings tonight.”

My teammates varied in how they reacted to that, some of them shifting uncomfortably, while others sported cocky smiles like they weren’t worried in the least.

Coach scanned all of us once more before his eyes locked on mine, and a subtle tilt of his chin told me it was my time to take over.

I jumped up, pulling on my helmet as I yelled, “Who are we?!”

One by one, my teammates followed, and a chorus sang back to me, “NBU!”

“What do we want?!”

“What all champs do!”

“How do we win?”

“Fight with class!”

“And if all else fails?”

“KICK THEIR ASS!”

I threw my fist out, swallowed up in the next moment by teammate after teammate piling theirs on top.

“Rebels on three. One, two—”

“Rebels!”

I high-fived my brothers as I passed them, knocked helmets, smacked their asses with words of encouragement, and lifted Riley up in a spinning hug before telling her to go give ’em hell.

And though I still didn’t look where those pom poms waved on the sideline, I could feel an all-too-familiar pair of brown eyes watching me as I jogged to the end zone for our first set of drills.





Sweat dripped into my eyes by the end of practice, every muscle screaming for relief as I dragged my ass into the locker room. The heat was brutal, adding to the misery Coach Dawson, our Defensive End Coordinator, had dished out for nearly three hours. I’d run so many sprints and tackling drills I felt woozy, but I held my chin high as I marched side by side with the rest of my team.

Riley slowed down at my side, nudging me with an elbow. “You killed it out there today.”

“I could say the same for you, miss forty-two-yard field goal.” I arched a brow. “You know, the chart was already made. You didn’t have to show out like that.”

“Didn’t I, though?” She grinned.

Riley Novo was the only girl on our team — the only female playing in college football at all at the present moment. She’d had to overcome a lot last season to gain the respect of the team, mine included, but it hadn’t taken her long to win us all over. Now, we protected her like she was our little sister.

Well, except Zeke — who protected her like she was his whole damn life.

On cue, Zeke swept in behind her then, tucking her under his arm as he ran his knuckles over her already-frazzled hair. She swatted our kick returner away, but then she was back in his arms, leaning up for a kiss that made my heart ache as I tore my gaze away.

I used to have that, too.

Now that practice was over, I didn’t have anything to focus on, no reason to keep my eyes from continuing to drift over to where the cheerleaders were wrapping up their own practice. They all wore matching brick-red shorts and small white crop tanks, and a short scan of them was all it took for me to find Maliyah.

Long, bright blonde hair swished behind her as she laughed and did a little kick, trying to hold her foot up above her head for some sort of stunt. She fell out of it, laughing with the girls around her, those strawberry-pink lips stretched over her wide smile. Even from here I could see how her curves stretched against the clothing she wore, curves that had driven me and every other boy at our high school absolutely mad.

Her brown eyes flicked to me, and the smile she wore faded instantly.

I allowed myself one long, torturous moment of holding her gaze, and then I sniffed, turning back to Zeke and Riley and pretending like I was engaged in whatever conversation they were having.

It was almost time.

When we all finally made it into the locker room, it was a pathetic show of acting like we were pre-occupied with our lockers or duffle bags or cleats until Coach tacked the chart to the board outside his office before ducking inside it and shutting the door behind him.

It was pure chaos after that.

Player after player shoved to get to the chart, some retreating with their fists thrown up in victory, while others hung their heads or kicked their lockers. I hung back, sitting on the wooden bench in front of my locker and watching as Leo jumped up and down on his way to Holden, ringing him around the neck.

“Another year dominating offense together, QB1,” he said, crushing his head to Holden’s like they were wearing helmets. “Let’s fucking go!”

Holden grinned, letting Leo make a show before he gently shrugged him off and got back to the humble appearance he always wore.

Zeke had Riley on his shoulders within seconds after that, toting her around as they celebrated their spots being secured — which was a surprise to absolutely no one. And I didn’t even have to move from my seat on the bench before I was joined by Reggie and Dane, two guys who had played in the secondary with me last season.