Kiss To Forget (Blairwood University #2) - Anna B. Doe Page 0,10

and I shoot to our feet, and together we run to the field just as the defense is getting to the sidelines. Hayden and I exchange a look. That’s all we need, one look. You’d think we’ve been playing together all our lives, but in reality, we only met last year at training camp. Still, from the very first moment, something between us clicked on a deeper level. We could read each other without a problem. I always know where he is on the field, and he’d almost without a fault be able to catch anything I throw at him.

Everybody takes their places, and I take in our rivals on the other side of the line. They’re trying to hold it together, but I can see the cracks in their defense, and I plan to exploit them to our benefit.

I call out the play, my players falling in line. The center snaps the ball into my waiting hands.

One. Two. Three.

I pull back, getting into the pocket, my arm extending. There is a familiar resistance of the light breeze, the feel of the leather in my palms. And then I let the ball fly, watching it spiral through the air.

Hayden jumps in the air, his arms wrapping around the ball and tucking it into his side as he falls back to the ground and starts running. We get twenty yards before he’s pinned to the ground.

First down.

The whistle blows, and players get on their feet. We move down the field, setting in position once again.

I glance at the clock ticking down the final minutes. Sweat coats my brows, but my hands are steadily holding onto the pigskin.

I call out another play, and the ball snaps into my hands. I turn to throw at Hayden, but the defense has a hold on him.

Fuck.

Switching to the right, I see an opening and throw it, but it’s already too late. Before my receiver can catch the ball, the play is already read.

“Move!” I yell, but it takes a second for everybody to react and adjust.

They’re well into our side of the field when we snap out of it. The field is a mess of bodies fighting for dominance.

For a moment, I think we’ve gone and done it, but then cheering erupts from the crowd.

I lift my gaze and find Prescott grabbing the ball. It rings in my ears from the blood pumping in my veins as I watch him run, two players hot on his feet.

Just as one’s about to grab him, Prescott laterals the ball to Hayden, who catches it mid-air, not slowing down until he’s firmly in the end zone.

The crowd screams as the horn signals the touchdown.

The victory is ours, baby.

Chapter Six

NIXON

“Who’re the motherfucking winners?” I yell at the top of my lungs, my hands thrown over Hayden’s and Prescott’s shoulders. If it weren’t for the two of them, we wouldn’t have made it. That last play is still playing in my mind on repeat. The way Prescott intercepted that ball and lateraled it to Hayden for a touchdown was insane.

“We are!” the crowd roars right back at me, followed by chants of “Ravens! Ravens!” Somebody pops open the champagne, the cork ending God only knows where.

Hayden takes the bottle and throws it over my head. The sticky liquid blinds me, my clothes soaking through, something I barely notice with the fire still burning in my veins.

We just won the fucking national championship, and I’m riding a high like nothing else I’ve ever experienced.

“Shouldn’t you be the one getting a champagne shower, Mr. MVP?” I ask him, wiping at my eyes.

Somebody must have heard me because another bottle is opened and shoved into my hands. I don’t waste time pouring it over his head, saving a little bit for Prescott too.

Thank God we’re outside because I’m sure Maddox would have a coronary right about now.

But it’s not like you win a championship every day. No, this is a special moment, one we’ll remember forever.

When you’re an athlete, there are only so many highs you can reach. For most of the guys on the team, playing college is that high. Not everybody will get a chance to be drafted into the pros, but all of us here can say that at one point, we won the college championship and said goodbye to our careers with a bang.

Hayden laughs, pulling the hem of his shirt up to wipe his face and shaking the champagne out of his hair. “As somebody once pointed out,