Page 87 of The Quarterback

Wilson crossed the entire weight room to lead them to the leg press. The team worked out in rotations through the day, small groups coming through so Wilson could give everyone focused attention. These were the starters. Colton’s closest friends, supposedly. They all stared at him, wide-eyed, faces blank. His heart pounded. He didn’t make eye contact with anyone.

“Colton. Get in.”

He folded himself into the machine, sitting on the padded seat before pushing his feet against the platform that held the weights. Wilson stacked weights on the bars, each one making a clang as he added more, and then more. More than Colton had pressed last year, when he was in peak physical shape. Before.

Clarence stood to the side, shifting from foot to foot as he shook his head like he had far better things to do than be attached to Colton during his workout.

Wilson’s gaze shifted to Clarence. “On the ground. Push-up position.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” Wilson pointed to the ground. “Front-leaning rest, now.” He waited until Clarence slowly got down, and then he turned his dark eyes back to Colton. “Ten reps. Hobbs, while he’s pressing, you’re pushing. Go.”

Clarence bitched under his breath as he started pumping out push-ups. Colton began to press, extending his legs and pushing the weight Wilson had loaded for him until his knees almost locked. He bent his knees and lowered the weight until his knees reached his chest. Sucked in a breath. Repeat.

By the seventh rep, his legs were shaking, and every muscle fiber screamed for mercy. It was too much weight. He was too out of shape. He couldn’t—

Don’t ever give up, Colton.

He swallowed his breath andpushed. Fire shot through his quads, his hamstrings, his calves, his heels. On the floor, Clarence loudly counted out his reps, as if trying to put an exclamation point on how many push-ups he was doing to Colton’s paltry seven leg presses.

Colton gritted his teeth. He shoved the heels of his palms into his seizing thighs. He dug deep, closing his eyes as he forced out another three reps.

“Switch,” Wilson said.

“Finally,” Clarence mumbled. He rolled his eyes as Colton tumbled sideways out of the machine and crawled into the front-leaning rest position. Sweat puddled on the floor below him.

Wilson’s eyes locked on Colton’s. “Go.”

Clarence knocked out the first five reps almost lazily, as if the leg presses were an annoyance he had to endure. Shame burned up Colton’s spine, and he lowered his gaze to the floor. Was he that out of shape? Had this been a mistake? Was he just embarrassing himself in front of everyone?

Colton was twenty push-ups in when Clarence started to slow down. He stopped with his legs to his chest, breathing hard.

“Did I say stop?” Wilson snapped at Clarence. “Keep pushing!”

Clarence glared. He pushed.

Colton’s shoulder twanged. Thirty push-ups.

Clarence did one more leg press.

Forty push-ups.

“Man, you put too much weight on!” Clarence snapped.

“Three more presses.”

Fifty push-ups. Colton tried to shift his weight to his other shoulder. Wilson’s eyes snapped to him. “Don’t stop, Colton.”

Grunting, Clarence forced out another leg press before he flopped back and shook his head. “I’m done.”

“Two more.”

“Man, I told you!” Clarence shouted. “I’m done! You put too much weight on, and I’m not risking an injury for you!” He tried to stand.

“Get the fuck back in that seat and finish!” Wilson roared. “You’re not done, Hobbs!”

“Fuck you!”