Page 3 of Hard Count (Newhouse University #4)

NASH

FOUR WEEKS UNTIL GAME ONE

Your hands.

What does that even mean? I don’t do anything weird with my hands.

Practice and complete exhaustion have kept me from grabbing last season’s game film from the media room.

I’ll be doing that before I head home today because I can’t stop thinking about what she said.

Or maybe I just can’t stop thinking about her.

“Hydrate,” Asher, one of our athletic trainers, says, handing me a water bottle. “They say today’s heat index is the highest of the week. It’s going to be uncomfortable.”

“If we’re comfortable, we aren’t working hard enough,” Eli says, joining us on the sideline and grabbing water from Asher. Eli plays on defense. He’s also one of my roommates and close friends. He moved in with me over the summer along with Gage and Ozzy—two Newhouse soccer players .

“Nash, Lucas, Marcus, you’re up again.” Coach Prescott waves me onto the field. “Let’s run through each passing play without defenders and then a second time with them.”

I nod and get myself into position. These drills are like riding a bike.

My first year at school I gave up most of my social life to study every play inside and out.

I may have been the new kid and the backup quarterback but I was eager to learn.

I was ready to put in the work and make a name for myself here.

Marcus hikes the ball. I catch it and line it up in my hand.

Taking a few steps back, I swiftly scan the field.

The timing on this pass has to be perfect because I’m throwing to an empty spot downfield and hoping Lucas will be there to catch the ball.

If I’m a second too late or my accuracy is off, it could be disastrous.

The what-ifs run through my head long enough I end up over throwing the pass forcing Lucas to chase after it. If this was a real game, it would have been a missed pass at best or a pick at worst. Fuck . I’ve got to stop doing this to myself.

I run back to the sideline and gulp down more water before we have to run through the plays all over again with the defense.

“What happened back there?” Coach asks. “You had Lucas running laps chasing after the ball.” His brow bends under the rim of his sunglasses and his lips flatten. I stare at his visor that’s currently trapping his full head of dark hair.

I don’t like letting Coach down. Newhouse University was my dream school.

I’ve wanted to play for Coach Gavin Prescott since I was in middle school when I watched him turn the organization around.

We went from barely winning games ten years ago to being repeat champions several seasons in a row.

I want to feel that once before I graduate.

“I got in my head, Coach. It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t. You need to concentrate. We take it one play at a time. Don’t think about anything else except executing the play.”

“Yes, sir.” I nod. He’s right. One play at a time. Forget everything else. I need to clear my head and not worry about what could happen. I especially don’t need to think about the dressing down I received from some random girl I met at a bar weeks ago.

“Everything good?” Eli asks.

“Just a quick reminder to keep my eyes on the end game.” I grab my towel off the bench and wipe the sweat off my face.

“How are we supposed to stay focused when girls who look like her show up at our practices?” Trey asks, staring at the bleachers behind me.

I glance over my shoulder and do a double take. If it isn’t the girl from the bar sitting off to the side in one of the middle row bleachers. Our practices are open but very few people come to watch us at seven in the morning when it feels like it’s a hundred million degrees outside.

I stare her down with my arms crossed over my chest. “What’s her deal?”

“I’ve never seen her before,” Eli answers the question I didn’t realize I asked out loud.

“I don’t know but I’m going to find out,” Trey replies. He takes a few steps across the field toward her and for some unexplainable reason it angers me. I can’t blame the guy for being interested. She’s a stunner.

She’s not wearing a hat today and her long golden-blonde hair is pulled back in a high ponytail. She’s in a cropped workout tank and running shorts. I’m fucked if this is what she looks like after a run.

Coach blows his whistle requesting our attention.

His gaze flicks to our guest before staring each of us down.

“Let’s go. Line it up,” he shouts, giving the girl in the stands one last glance.

He’s never complained about girls showing up at our practices.

If anything we perform better, subconsciously trying to impress our audience.

I put my helmet on as we file onto the field and line up against the defense. Typically we run through a few plays with our starters and then pull our backup players out for the afternoon practice.

Scanning the defense, I note any shifts in their formation.

The only thing that causes alarm is Trey making eyes at the blonde in the stands.

He’s paying more attention to her than what I’m about to do on the field.

“Red twenty-one,” I signal the line to watch Trey.

He’ll be easy to beat in a foot race since he’s too busy thinking about what he wants to do after practice.

“White eighty,” I shout and Marcus, our center, snaps the ball. Lucas burns past Trey as predicted and I rocket launch the ball toward the end zone. He easily makes the catch with Trey at least ten yards behind him and runs it into the end zone.

“You should have had that,” Eli scolds Trey as they line up again. “Stop staring at the bleachers. You wouldn’t do that on game day. Don’t do it at practice. You’re wasting our time.”

“If she’s in attendance, I would definitely be looking at her on game day. She has legs that were made to be wrapped around my waist,” Trey says, staring at her.

“Enough,” I shout. This is exactly why I kept my sister away from my teammates. It only took one party my freshman year to learn that while these guys might be good football players, they don’t deserve to breathe the same air as someone like my sister. “Watch your mouth.”

“You might wear the mark of captain on your jersey but you’re not the boss of me. Don’t be jealous because she keeps looking at me.”

I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s getting under my skin. I’m feeling itchy and agitated. Is she watching him? Why does that bother me? Why is she even here? Questions keep rolling through my head as we set up the next play.

“What do you want to do, Nash?” Lucas asks when we huddle.

We’re back on our thirty yard line. “Are you tired yet?” I ask him.

“I can go again.”

“Run left blue forty-two.”

“Are you sure?” Adrian, one of our running backs, asks. Does he think I’m weaker throwing from the left side too ?

“Yes, do you doubt me?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve never doubted you. Do you doubt you?” he asks, with a lift to his eyebrows. I shake my head knowing full well there's doubt building below the surface every second.

We get into position and the girl in the stands scoots to the edge of her seat. Our eyes meet and a shockwave tears through me. Her words swim inside my brain as I call the play. He overthinks. He hesitates. He plays scared .

I feel like I’m sleepwalking as I run through the motions. I blink and my second of hesitation is all it takes. I rotate my arm forward to release the ball as Trey charges toward me. The ball falls out of my hand and I’m knocked on my back.

“Late hit,” one of our defensive coaches calls from the sideline and begins to reprimand Trey.

“You good, man?” Eli offers me a hand and helps me off the turf.

I ignore him and head straight for Trey who’s walking back onto the field. “What the fuck was that?” I ask, pushing against his chest.

“Come on. Don’t be mad. It’s not like that’s the first time you’ve been knocked on your ass.”

“My arm was already going forward and you know it. You’re showboating for some girl instead of keeping your teammate's safety in mind,” I say, pointing at her.

“I barely touched you.” He knocks his helmet against mine and presses into me. We’re about the same height but I have an inch and a few pounds of muscle on him. I’ve had an issue with a teammate once before. Even that never came to blows.

But for some reason, this situation with the mystery girl from the bar has me charged with an infinite amount of fury and I’m ready to tear his helmet off his head.

“Her on the other hand…she’d be feeling me for days once I was done with her. I may even leave a few marks for her to remember me by.”

That’s it. He just pulled the pin on the grenade.

With a loud growl, I launch myself at Trey’s body.

He falls to the ground and I drop on top of him.

As soon as I have him controlled I rip his helmet off and toss it aside.

I get two punches in before he rolls us over.

I do him a favor and take my own helmet off.

If he wants to hit me, he can fucking have a field day with it. He does and hits me hard on my cheek.

I push him off of me and punch him in the ribs with my left hand while blocking him with my other.

He manages to smash his fist into my jaw again.

Fuck, that hurt. I lick the corner of my mouth and the tang of blood coats my tongue.

I hope his hand is throbbing from that one.

I’m pulled off of him too soon for my liking by Eli. “Calm down. He’s not fucking worth it.”

He’s not but something in my gut tells me she is. I don’t particularly care for her know-it-all attitude, but she doesn’t deserve this asshole talking about her like that.

“You and you,” Coach bellows, making his way toward me and Trey. “Cool off. Get your faces cleaned up. Then I want to see you in my office for a chat. You’ll both owe me laps this afternoon.”