He sends a grin to Cedrick but then looks back at me. “Pussy move.”
“Ah, you want a pity play now?” I say. “I just saw a wannabe defensive back who doesn’t like contact. Cedrick saw that too. He just wrote down the word soft next to your name.”
Archer rolls his shoulders. “If that’s the way you wanna play it, let’s dance.”
“Hike!” Coach holds the ball and waits for us to run.
My body darts forward, and I swing in Archer’s direction, acting like I’m going to jam him again, but I do a fake and fly past him at full speed.
He runs to catch me, but I’m faster, my feet eating up the yards. Twenty yards down field, I look for the ball, which is already in the air. In a split second, I realize I’ve beaten Archer on the route, but Coach has underthrown. I dash back, get behind Archer just in time, and leap. I snatch the ball down, and we both fall to the ground. Yes!
Blaze two, Archer zero.
I walk back toward the line and hear Archer breathing, snorting like a bull. “You trying to show off for your girl? What’s the deal with that one? She leading you around on a leash?”
I glance up into the stadium. Charisma and Dillon sit low in the stands. I didn’t see her come in, although I knew she wanted to come. I agreed when she asked, though grudgingly. Part of me wants her here, but the other part is terrified I’ll fuck it up and disappoint her.
“Hike!” yells Coach, yanking me back to the present.
I’m one second late getting off the line, and as I get up to full speed, Archer is right on my hip. I stop and turn for the ball. Coach throws a shitty pass and I twist to grab it, but Archer shoves me in my back. The ball falls to the field.
Blaze two, Archer one.
My fists clench. Focus!
Keep your eyes off her and on him. Right.
“Bitch move, Archer,” I tell him as we line up.
He stares at me, eyes hard. “Your girl reminds me of that stripper at the Furry Kitty Kat, you know the one, big tits and a juicy ass. When she’s done with you, I’m going to fuck that real good.” He leans in until I feel his breath through the cage of my helmet. “What’s her name? Charm? She remind you of the trash you come from?”
I flick my eyes up. She’s got her hands clasped tight in front of her, eyes on me.
“You ready, Blaze?” asks Coach, and I realize I’m distracted.
“Yes, sir,” I bite out as Archer glares at me across the line.
“Hike!”
I blow past him as Coach overthrows the ball, and I put every ounce of effort into driving my body forward.
I dive and reach out to get my fingertips on it just as Archer’s feet tangle with mine. His cleat jams on my ankle hard and the ball ends up just out of my grasp, hitting the ground.
Archer stands first and towers above me, smiling. He reaches out his hand to help me up, but at the last second, he jerks it away. “I’m the superstar here, farm boy. Not you.”
He runs back to the line.
Pain skyrockets from my foot up my leg as I stand. I shake it off. I’m cool. I’m cool. I glance at Cedrick as he scribbles notes on his clipboard. The last thing he wants to see is a prima donna wide receiver complaining about a little pain.
I walk back for the next drill, fighting the urge to limp.
Coach watches me, a furrow on his brow. “You good? Looks like he accidentally came down on your ankle.”
Accidentally my ass.
“I’m fine. What’s the next route?” I ask through gritted teeth.
“You sure?”
“What’s the next route?”
“Deep post,” he replies, gaze wary.
I line up.
Archer leans in and whispers, “You’re hurt, farm boy.”
I realize he’s right after a few more drills, and my gut churns with frustration. I’m nowhere near full speed, and my ankle throbs with each step, adrenaline the only thing keeping me going. I’ve had injuries before, small ones I recovered from, but this…this is…shit.
I come back to the line.
Coach levels his eyes on me, his gaze going to my ankle. “Blaze, get your ass off the field and send in another wide receiver for Archer.”
My shoulders tense. “I’m fine. Let’s run another play.”
He grimaces. “He’s kicking your ass. Doesn’t look good.”