Page 32 of The Trouble with You (Rixon Raiders 1)

“Exciting, yeah,” I grumbled as we found our seats. The field was already a hive of activity; the marching band performing while the cheer squad worked the crowd into a frenzy.

Like the night of the pep rally, the air was electric. But tonight was different. More, somehow. The crowd was hungry for it, the energy of five-thousand people crackling around the Dawson Stadium. But nothing could have prepared me for the surge I felt when the team tore through the huge blue and white banner.

“My heart is beating so hard,” Flick admitted, her eyes glittering with exhilaration, her skin flushed. She was one of them now. Her heart syncing to the thrum of the crowd, the beat of the band’s drum. A good friend would have been excited for her; pleased she was having all these new life experiences she could tick off her list. But I guess I’d lost my good-friend title when I hadn’t realized she wanted these experiences in the first place.

Imagine Dragons boomed across the field, barely drowning out the raucous singing as everyone chanted the lyrics at their beloved Raiders. My eyes immediately found number 1 and 42… finally landing on Cameron, the number 14 on his jersey standing out like a neon sign my eyes couldn’t avoid if I tried.

“Don’t hate me,” Flick pulled my attention, pressing into my side. “But I think I kinda love this.”

“I know,” I whispered, my stomach dipping. Because I did. She was radiant. As if being here, in the crowd, was her calling.

“Just promise me you won’t become one of them,” I replied, trying to school my disappointment.

“Them?” she asked, barely able to tear her gaze off the field.

“Yeah, a Khloe Stemson or a Jenna Jarvis. Promise me you won’t cross that line.”

Flick’s brows crinkled as if I was talking another language. But before she could reply, the team captains were called in for the coin toss. When Jason and his teammates stalked back to the rest of their team, she shrieked. “Yes! They won the toss.”

“They did?” I asked, having no clue about what was happening down on the field.

“Yeah, see.” She pointed to Jason and Cameron and a few others who were now jogging onto the field. “It looks like they’re going to kick off to the other team.”

“And I’m supposed to know what that means?”

She shook her head gently. “Just watch, you’ll pick it up.”

“If you say so.”

“I do, now pay attention.” Flick nudged her head to the field, and I groaned.

It was going to be a long night.

Cameron

My muscles pinged with exertion, sweat rolling down my back and beading across my forehead as we huddled in the locker room, waiting for Coach. He strolled in with his assistant co

aches, looking as cool as a cucumber.

“That’s how it’s done, ladies,” he said yanking off his ball cap and running a hand through his graying hair. “Offense, keep working hard, running those rush plays we’ve been practicing, and we’ll have Marshall eating out of the palm of our hand. Defense, keep them pinned down. Bennet, nice blocking, son. Their QB is completing three out of four of his passes but keep on him and he’ll get tired.” Asher grinned at me across the room and I rolled my eyes. “Watch out for their running back though, he has a tendency to go wide and slip our guys.”

“I’ve got it, Coach.” Asher held up his helmet. “No one is getting past me.”

“Real glad to hear it, Son. Now gather round.” He beckoned us in. “I know there’s a lot of pressure right now. People were disappointed when we didn’t make it past the first-round last year. Hell, I was disappointed, but this is a new season.” Low rumbles broke out around me as the guys remembered how it had felt to get eliminated thanks to Rixon East.

“Okay, okay,” Coach Hasson yelled over the noise, waiting for silence. “Let me tell you something about winning State. It isn’t about luck or which school has the best players or the most money, it’s about teamwork and heart. It’s about grasping every opportunity and turning it into something to be proud of. Don’t play for yourself, play for the other ten men on the field. The men watching you from the sidelines.

“This might only be the opening game, but right here, right now, you do what you do best; go out there and play like champions, do you hear me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I said, do you hear me?”

“YES, SIR.” Our voices melded together, echoing off the walls.

“That’s what I like to hear. Asher, Son, take it away.”

He moved into the middle of the huddle, eyes narrowed, shoulders squared. “Who are we?”