grabbing an unsuspecting pigeon.
Visions of that first day I’d met Sean flashed in my head, but no way. He took off toward the right goal line, running fast. The defenders had obviously pretty much written the little guy off, so they were caught flat-footed.
My heart almost exploded as Sean raced down the field and leaped across the goal line. For a second, it was like the whole field stood suspended. Even Sean didn’t seem to be able to get what he’d done. And then the buzzer signaled the end of the game. ALA had won thanks to one adorable Poin named Sean McKinney.
Tray whooped, and the other guys joined in. Jesse got to Sean first and hoisted him in the air. Sean looked stunned, but he was still grinning. All the guys gave him pats and high-fives, and a few even came over and told me what a good job I did training him.
I felt like I was floating on a cloud of happy—until Sean took off jogging across the field. His parents and Mr. Oxford PhD were standing on the sidelines waving at him like they were trying to hail a cab.
Should have known.
Jesse walked to me and said, “Who’s that?”
I sighed. “His parents and the dude they want Sean to date. Some brainiac.”
Jesse just raised his eyebrows. Right. Can’t fight city hall, as my dad liked to say.
With a sigh, I lined up to shake hands with the other team, then started toward the locker room, heart thumping miserably. I wished this day was over. It was bad enough to be around Sean when he wasn’t mine. But to have to see his parents again and the new dude on top of that? Not fair.
But when I got to the bleachers, Sean was standing talking to his parents and Jeremiah Osteen. I didn’t want to watch, but I couldn’t seem to help it. Funny, nobody touched Sean or hugged him. They were all staring at, and listening to, Jeremiah. That included Sean who was shifting from foot to foot. Not big, but kind of a small wobble back and forth. His hands were behind his back, and I could just see his profile, but his fingers snapped restlessly, and he looked—bored.
The thought made me stop, and DeWan ran into my back. “Whoa, big fella.”
I looked back. “Sorry, DeWan. Wasn’t watching.”
“Hey, it’s okay. I never thought you could do it, man, but Sean’s carry was as sweet as anything I could have done. It was almost as good as you.” He barked a laugh. “Hell, it was almost as good as Jesse!” Laughing, he walked past me into the tunnel.
I couldn’t take my eyes off those snapping fingers and restless feet. Sean McKinney wasn’t having a good time listening to the PhD run his mouth. And why was the guy yakking anyway? Hadn’t they seen that play? They should be telling Sean how great he was and hugging him and shit. Probably they didn’t understand flag and had no clue how awesome Sean had been, which was a fucking shame. He should be with someone who appreciated everything about him.
I walked toward the tunnel, trying to ignore the tiny tickle in my chest. A little thing kind of like hope.
We only had an hour before the next game, so we couldn’t go anywhere. When I got into the locker room, our team adviser from the fraternity, Mr. Hammerschmidt, had already piled a table with burgers, grilled chicken, raw veggies, and dip, and there were even some fries for those who believed in carb loading. We lay on the benches where there was room, sat on the floor, and some massaged one another’s backs. Jesse was sitting with his shoes off, and Mr. H was rubbing his calf.
Sean walked in looking annoyed, but the big cheer he earned spread a smile across his face. “Thanks.” He glanced at me. “Bubba must have thrown the ball to me just like that two hundred times. I finally learned to catch it.”
Tray yelled, “Go Bubba!” And that was great, but nothing meant as much as Sean’s little smile.
When we’d consumed all the food like some starving pack of lions, Tray called us together to talk about the next game. These guys coming up were fourth best in the league, but they’d only missed third by a couple points. They were way good.
After Tray had discussed plays, Jesse said, “I’ve got a problem. I pulled a calf muscle. It’s no big, but Mr. H