Page 68 of The Surprise Play

Part of me wants to keep the conversation going,check to see how she’s doing. But I doubt she wants to rehash her embarrassment from this morning, so I leave it at that, climbing back up the stairs, kind of mystified by why I’m looking forward to a study session as much as I’m looking forward to the game.

CHAPTER 20

ELIZABETH

So it turns out that trying to tutor a student while the Nolan U Cougars are competing in the finals is impossible.

Not only for the student who can’t concentrate but for me as well.

In the end, I just give up, and we huddle in front of his laptop and watch the game together. I’ve never really been one for watching football, but this is the second game I’ve checked in on, and I’m actually nervous as I watch our team compete for the title.

This is huge.

The Cougars have only made it to the finals a few times in the past, and the team hasn’t been for a good five years at least, apparently.

So this is their chance for glory, and they are giving their all to claim it.

Holding my breath, I watch the offense set for their next play and wince at the crunch of pads and helmets as the ball is shot back to Zander Donohue.

“Come on, Zan-Man,” the guy beside me whispers.

It feels weird sitting this close to him. I’m usually in the adjacent seat and coaching him through technical writing, which the poor guy really struggles with. He knows what he wants to say but is hard-pressed to word things in clear, precise ways. That’s what I’m here for.

But when he couldn’t stop checking his phone and I finally coaxed the truth out of him, I knew his assignment was the last thing we’d be able to focus on.

“Shall we just watch it? We can catch up on this work another time.”

“Yes!” He whooped and tapped his laptop, bringing up the game on his screen, then handing me an earbud.

I was so surprised by his silent invitation, and instinct told me to decline and leave him to it.

But then the thought of seeing Wily stopped me.

So I moved my seat, and now my arm is lightly brushing against the freshman beside me while we cheer the Cougars on from the second floor of the library.

Wily pushes a guy, blocking him from running after the wide receiver when he punches through a gap and starts sprinting for the end of the field.

“Carson McAvoy with a great burst of speed,” the commentator says. “But can he get clear to receive the—oh,” he hisses. “Taken down with a crunch. Boy, the Cougars are taking a beating tonight.”

I wince, biting my bottom lip as I watch Wily run over to help Carson back to his feet. The wide receiver hobbles for a minute, then finds his footing, slowly jogging to the sideline.

Man, I don’t know how they do it.

Their bodies get punished on that field, yet they keep getting up and fighting.

They’re warriors, in a way.

Men who just won’t quit.

You’ve got to admire that about them.

Although I’ve always avoided athletes like the plague, especially football players who have a tough arrogance that rubs me the wrong way… I have to admit that seeing what they do on that field maybe helps me understand them a little better.

They bleed and break for the glory of their team.

Maybe they deserve just a touch of that cocky pride they always wear.

My insides rumble and squirm as I think back to some of those high school football players who made me want to shrink between the cracks in the pavement.