The Perfect First (Fulton U, #1)
Maya Hughes
1
Reece
The icy splash of Gatorade washed over me. I tilted my head back, spraying it all over everyone still standing along the sidelines. If I had to deal with the sticky cleanup of this stuff, so did everyone else. Rivulets of it ran down my back, soaking my jersey and pads. That shit was a bitch to get out of my gear, but damn it felt good to win.
Grabbing hold of LJ’s pads, I wrapped my arm around his neck and shook him. His brown hair was half matted to his head with sweat and half sticking straight up. He was our tight end, my roommate, and one of the chillest guys on the team. Maybe only Keyton was more chill, and that was probably why I’d snatched that touchdown pass right out of his grip. A guy who relaxed just didn’t get the intensity of the game.
“One of these days your gambles aren’t going to pay off, but damn is it awesome when they do.” LJ slapped his fist into my chest, but his lips curled up into a smile. His eyebrow with the scar running straight through it lifted.
I grinned and shook out my hair, spraying rain, sweat, and Gatorade all over him. He shoved me back before running off to celebrate with the rest of the team. Pads and helmets crashed into each other. Arms flew into the air. The Fulton U fans jumped in the stands, shaking the ground under my feet. I basked in their cheers and chants, turning and staring up at all the people, lifting my arm to everyone who’d stuck with us through the rain. The rumble got even louder, filling the stadium. I’d thought after what happened in the offseason, things on the field might have changed, but winning made everyone forget all that off-the-field shit.
My body hummed with the electricity and adrenaline of the crowd and the win. We weren’t even halfway through the season and there was already talk of a championship.
I wondered how my dad had walked away from this. It was what made me feel alive, and I wasn’t giving it up for anything. I lived for these moments.
“Number 6, baby!” Nix AKA Phoenix Sommerland AKA my other roommate, team QB, and best friend, screamed into my ear, nearly knocking me over. His bright blue eyes, which the ladies went insane for, practically lit up the place. Girls up in the stands shouted out our names. His cheeks reddened like they always did whenever that sort of attention happened off the field.
“Promise me you’ll let someone else catch a pass at least once this season.” He smacked against the pads on my back.
“It’s what you get for even thinking of passing the ball to anyone else, and if they’re too slow, that’s not my fault.” I shrugged. Wrapping my fingers tighter around the facemask of my helmet, I tugged the sticky neck of my jersey down off my skin. Time for a shower and a party.
The crowd of teammates, coaches, reporters, and officials swarmed us as we rushed into the tunnel. Pads, helmets, and gear banged into the concrete walls and the noise bounced off the tight space. After a win, it was nearly deafening.
Nix tugged open the locker room door. LJ jumped onto us with his arms around our shoulders.
“Press conference first.” Coach Saunders grabbed me and Nix by our jerseys, knocking LJ off. Coach’s salt and pepper hair would have made him look like a politician, but he’d sooner punt a baby than kiss one. While some former pros let themselves go, he hadn’t. He always ran sprints right along with us, mostly to keep the bitching to a minimum. If he could still keep up with us, we had no excuses. He hated everything outside of the plays and practice. His face always looked like he was headed for the firing squad, but his current glare was one reserved for LJ. I had no idea what he’d done to deserve it, but I was just glad I wasn’t the one getting the stink eye.
“Hit the showers, Lewis.”
LJ didn’t have to be told twice and darted inside the locker room. No one knew what he’d done to piss Coach off, but damn had he done a phenomenal job of it. If looks could kill, LJ would’ve been dead and buried months ago. It had been tense between those two since the beginning of the season, and LJ wouldn’t give up the goods on why.
“Can I grab a quick shower first?” The tips of my fingers brushed against the metal handle. Chanting fans I could handle. Pushy reporters shoving microphones into my face? Not my idea of fun. The invasive questions from last spring and the judgment in their eyes had stung after so many years only seeing the adoring side of the media. The backlash had been like a field goal kick to the nuts.
Coach ignored my request, shoving us to the side and down the hall. “Let’s get this over with.”
Pulling at the front of my slowly drying jersey, I felt its gummy dampness clinging to my skin.
“Don’t worry—they’ll still think you’re pretty,” Nix whispered in my ear as he ruffled my sticky hair with his sasquatch hands. He grimaced and wiped it on his pants. “Gross, dude.”
“That’s what you get.”
Coach pulled the door open. The camera flashes temporarily blinded me as we sat down behind the flimsy table on the small stage in front of the reporters. This was something I needed to get used to. Spots danced in front of my eyes. I bit the insides of my cheeks to keep my face neutral. Coach slapped down his playbook and pointed a meaty finger at the first reporter.
The woman stood up and stared straight at me. “Reece, how does it feel, adding another winning touchdown to your stats?” She kept her eyes on me with her pen poised above her notepad. The entire room was hanging on my every word. The tension in my shoulders eased and I lapped that shit up.