Page 3

THREE

Thursday afternoon practice is more difficult than usual. Coach Emerson goes over our plays, and I do everything I can to internalize what I'm supposed to do before we begin a run-through. My eyes wander to the sidelines, and I struggle to get my head in the game.

I never cared to pay attention to the band geeks on the sideline practicing on the field. Honestly, in the past, the off-key horns blaring and drums beating during their practice was a bit of a nuisance. Now my eyes search through the crowd of people for Rowan.

“Jackson, do you need me to bench you tomorrow?” Coach Emerson shouts after blowing a whistle to end our first run-through of the game plan. He storms across the field with his hands on his hips as he glares at me.

“No, sir,” I shout back, shaking my head and forcing myself to focus.

“Everybody from the starting position, now!” he shouts, forcing several of my fellow teammates to groan and stare at me. I take my helmet off momentarily and comb back my hair, feeling the sweat dripping from my brow.

I can't lose focus right now. This is our final practice before our big game tomorrow. If I let the team down, I'll never forgive myself. My entire life has been dedicated to football, and I don't want to fail.

“Come on, Sawyer,” Talon says as he slaps me on the back. “We don't want a repeat of what happened against Glendale, do we?”

I shake my head and laugh under my breath, rolling my eyes at the idea of him blaming me for those absolute brutes destroying us. “So now it's my fault their coach feeds them steroids for breakfast?”

All of us get in position for another run-through of our plan. Coach blows the whistle, and we begin. Talon and I take off in two separate directions. He runs to get the ball, and I position myself far away from him, knowing that his arm is strong enough to reach me. I brace myself for the ball, and as soon as it goes flying in the air, I run to catch it. It slides into my hands as if a magnet had pulled it directly toward me.

After, I run downfield with it my hands, turning my attention to the goalpost. Normally, I would be laser-focused on where I need to go, but the band members are wrapping up and moving toward the bleachers. My eyes fall on Rowan as she laughs with another one of the band members, tucking her hair behind her ear and smiling.

My legs keep moving, and I know where I'm going, but I'm not exactly looking forward. Out of nowhere, or at least it wouldn't have been if I was looking where I was supposed to, Gerard Ronson slams into me and sends me flying through the air. I crash into the ground hard, lying still for a moment with the ball falling out of my hands.

The wind is knocked out of me, and it feels like I ran directly into a brick wall. I don't register Gerard picking up the ball and throwing it across the field as I lie there trying to remember who I am, what's going on, and what century I'm in.

After a moment, the whistle sounds, and everybody halts before Coach Emerson runs across the field to check on me. Gerard joins him and takes his helmet off with an apologetic look on his face. Gerard looks like he was born to be a linebacker, and he is incredible at what he does. I'm thankful I don't usually have to be on the receiving end of it.

“You good, Jackson?” Coach asks, disappointment in his voice.

Everyone else from the team, as well as the cheerleaders who have been practicing on the sidelines, gathers around to make sure I'm okay. All of them look concerned, and I'm almost embarrassed. Gerard did what he was supposed to do, and he did a damn good job. If I had been paying close enough attention, I could have at least gotten out of the way so I didn't have to have two hundred and fifty pounds of pure muscle colliding right into me.

I roll over slowly to my side, trying to ease my muscles into being ready to stand. Once again, my eyes lock on Rowan as she prepares to leave. Everyone else around me is nervous, not only worrying about me but wondering if this unintentional injury is enough to take their wide receiver out of the game. On the other hand, Rowan is smirking like she's happy to see me on the ground in pain.

“I'm fine. It just knocked the wind out of me,” I say, standing up and waving everyone off.

Gerard offers me a handshake, and I take it, flinching at the strength of his grip. I think the world is lucky he's actually a very sweet guy. A man like him with anger issues would be a problem for everyone.

“All right, I think we've had enough for today,” Coach says to everyone, waving to dismiss us to the locker room.

Everyone disperses around me, and I look at the sidelines again to see Rowan lingering, carefully putting her flute in a hard shell case. I walk over, ignoring all my teammates around me as they comment about the practice, hoping it is enough to get us a win tomorrow.

Rowan doesn't turn around when I approach. She's too preoccupied being as gentle as possible with her instrument. “So do you usually linger around and watch practice?” I ask, forcing her to turn around with her eyebrows raised. She looks over my shoulder at everyone else as if she's wondering why I would talk to her instead of them.

“Not usually, but if you get knocked on your ass like that all the time, I might make a habit of it,” Rowan replies with a smug smile.

“Sorry to say it doesn't usually happen,” I reply, moving closer to her and staring in her eyes. The sunlight hits the center and makes them almost look like a pale green, much different than they looked in the library a few days ago. “I was distracted by something today.”

“The short skirts on the cheerleaders, I imagine.” She locks her case and turns around to face me with one arm folded across her and the other dangling at her side with the case in hand.

I smirk at her and look her up and down, not hiding the expression on my face. She's beautiful, and she doesn't know it, but by the look on my face, she's realizing I think something about her.

“Something like that,” I say, taking a deep breath and flashing her the most charming smile I can muster. “You and I need to get together sometime soon for the project, don't we? You haven't texted me yet.”

She nods slowly, wearing an unreadable expression as she contemplates what to say. A part of me undeniably looks forward to hanging out with her again. We had chemistry in the library, and I could see that she felt it too. She practically turned into a tomato when our hands brushed against each other.

Most girls don't challenge me the way she does. If I look at them, they'll just bat their eyelashes and flirt with me, hoping I take them to bed. It's not something I ever thought I would be interested in, but it's certainly got my attention, and I can't stop thinking about her now.

“I don't have classes after eleven on Monday if you want to meet at the library then,” Rowan says, forcing herself to remain stoic.

“Sawyer!” Talon shouts behind me. “Are you coming home, or should I just leave you here?”

Rowan looks over my shoulder with a smirk on her lips as Talon approaches with Merrit right next to him. He couldn't have picked a worse time, could he? Rowan grabs her backpack and swings it over her shoulder, readying herself to leave.

“I'm just talking to Rowan about our history project,” I say, gesturing to her, which makes her freeze and give a half-hearted wave. “This is my roommate Talon and his girlfriend Merrit,” I say to her.

Merrit looks between us and starts putting the pieces together in her head. She is much smarter than Talon and I combined, so I doubt there would be any questions about my motives with her.

“Nice to meet you. I actually have to run,” Rowan says, clearly making an excuse to get as far away from the three of us as possible. “I'll see you on Monday at the library then.”

She turns around and walks away as quickly as she can. I watch her, thinking about all the possibilities that lay before me on Monday. I can tell she likes me, even if it's a small amount. I just wonder if I can wear her down enough to potentially explore something.

“You have your fake ID? We need to make a beer run for the party tomorrow night,” Talon says, grabbing Merrit’s hand and leading her off the field. I follow them to the parking lot, wishing I can have something like they do someday. They're so in love, and even though I've been with my fair share of women, I've never had strong feelings for them.

Sometimes I wonder if I can even have that. If that life is meant for me after all.