Play On - Michelle Smith Page 0,28

all.

“Let me ask y’all something,” he says. “Do you want it?”

“Yes, sir,” we answer.

He folds his arms. Stares at us, long and hard. And once again, his gaze settles on me. “I’m not sure you do. Let me ask you again: do you want this field?”

My heart hammers as I yell, “Yes, sir,” along with the others.

He nods once. “That’s better. Now go take it.”

When I walk into Joyner’s after practice, the place is packed to the brim for the dinnertime rush. At least a dozen people are ahead of me in line. My stomach growls, angry at having to wait after running my rear off during practice.

“Austin!”

I whirl around. Hannah is sitting at a corner booth, along with Bri and another junior, Becca. They’re all dolled up with curls and those little sundresses the girls around here wear, even when it’s February and the wind slices right through you. Sipping from her glass, Hannah waves me over.

But that means losing my place in line. My stomach rumbles again. Dang it.

With a sigh, I start toward their booth. Hannah raises an eyebrow as I approach. “I’ve got a problem with you,” she says.

I squat and rest my arms on the table so I’m eye level with her. “What’d I do?”

She sets her glass down and leans forward, resting her chin in her hand. “We were putting together the place settings for the Valentine’s dance, and I didn’t see your name, or Jay’s, or Brett’s.” She punches my shoulder playfully. “Why are y’all skippin’ my dance?”

Well, at least I didn’t actually do anything. “I don’t have a date.”

Her jaw drops. “Who the heck told you no? Ugh.” She scans the restaurant. “Give me twenty seconds and I’ll have a date for you.”

I grab her wrist as she starts to stand. “Hannah. Chill. I don’t want to go.” If I did want to go, it’d be with someone who doesn’t go to our school. I mean, I could ask Marisa, but would that be too weird? And besides—

Hannah gasps, snatching my attention. “Are you trying to break my heart?”

“Austin!” Laura calls from the register. I glance over my shoulder. She drops a bulging paper bag onto the counter. “Your order’s up.”

I never even ordered. Do not look at the angry line.

“Well,” Hannah says, “if you bail on prom in May, I’ll kill you in your sleep. Tell Jay and Brett to let me know if they decide to go this weekend. I’ll get them hooked up.”

Yeah, I have a feeling the last place they’ll want to be is that dance. They’ll be locked up at Jay’s all night, thanks to his parents going out of town for the weekend.

“You won’t have to look hard,” Becca chimes in, taking a sip of her tea. “I’ll go with Brett in a heartbeat. Have you seen that guy’s hands?”

Bri shoots me a look that pretty much screams HELP. Can’t help her much there.

“Good Lord have mercy, yes,” Hannah says. “If his hands are that big, just think—”

I jump up. There are some things a guy doesn’t need to hear. “Have a good night, ladies.”

“Bye,” they call in unison as I head for the counter.

I take the paper bag, peeking inside to make sure it’s all there. It is, including the extra “just in case she stays” barbecue I’ve been ordering for Marisa. I look to Laura, who’s soloing the register. She catches my eye and hurries over. I reach for my wallet, but she waves me off.

“No charge.” She jerks her thumb over her shoulder. “Direct order from Mr. Joyner himself. I’m not allowed to charge you for the rest of the season.”

Ah, yeah. Most wonderful time of the year, indeed. I tuck the bag under my arm. “You’re sure?”

Laura grins and winks. “Go Bulldogs.”

chapter nine

I’ve never liked Valentine’s Day. There’s all this pressure to buy the perfect flowers for whatever girl you’re dating (which I’m actually good at, but that’s not the point), to buy the perfect gift, to set up the perfect date, blah blah blah. When you work in a floral shop, the holiday is 500,000 times more annoying. It’s scientifically proven. Just trust me.

Basically, you’ve got people rushing in and out all dang day while yelling that you’re not going fast enough, even though their sorry butts are the ones who waited until the last minute. It sucks for Momma and Marisa, who’ve been through the ringer all day. Coach even excused me from practice so I could come give them