myself impulsive by any means. In fact, everything I did in my life I’d done for years. I loved routines and prided myself on thinking things through before making huge decisions. Zeke drug a certain impulsivity out of me, though. I could blame it on the thrill of competition, but I didn’t think that’s what it was. I played on a high school and college team full of people who wanted to prove I didn’t belong where I was. I’d spent my entire football career stepping into the ring with people bigger than me, faster than me, and stronger than me, all to earn the right to stand where I stood. Zeke was hardly the first person who had ever challenged me, so why did he seem to have so much control over me? When it was him, I just couldn’t help myself.
Alec let out a loud gasp. “You like him!”
“What?” I fake gagged. “Gross!”
“You do!” A huge smile grew on his face. “You like him. He’s Mr. Football Handsome Man.”
For a brief moment, my mind drifted back to the sight of Zeke, drenched in sweat, statuesque, and waiting for a tackle, but I gave my head a little shake to wash it away. “He’s not—I don’t—No! Stop it!” Alec was clapping his hands and squealing. “Alec. Don’t. I don’t like him. He’s a dick!”
“So! You can be kind of a dick,” Alec replied. “Oh my gosh. He’s just as psycho about football as you, he’s obviously good looking, and he doesn’t just let you run around and say and do whatever you want like the rest of us mere mortals have to.” He gasped again. “Would I be your best man? It wouldn’t be Honey, right? Don’t say you’d pick Honey over me.”
I reached across and smacked him across his head. “Knock it off and take me to my game.”
Alec gave me a final sly side-eye and then finally started up the car.
My mind and body were equally a mess as we got ready for our game. Even the team, all of whom were still relatively mad at me, got worried and asked questions. I’d gotten them to forgive me after our loss to the Vipers, and practices resumed promptly once they learned we were still up for semi-pro status, but most of them were treating me like I was carrying some sort of disease. I didn’t fight for them to give me any more latitude than that. I didn’t really believe I deserved less, so I left it alone. Eventually, they would come around, and until then, I deserved every bit of flack I got for the rash decisions I made and physical and emotional stress I put them through. I was willing to wait for them to be ready, and the second we stepped on the field, they all locked into place, so I didn’t mind.
There was another hiccup that would prove problematic during tonight’s game, and that was the fact that it was the first time the team would be meeting Cal. Only Lila had gone to the same high school as me, and she intentionally didn’t play on the high school team because it had a male coach. When she went to college, she managed to find a team with a female coach, and when she came back to Montpelier, she likely only agreed to play on the rec team because there were no men involved. I had been honest with the team that I’d found a coach, but that they would need the week to button up their job and get situated. I had left his gender out of the conversation. Tonight, most of them would be pleased to see that there was someone who knew what they were doing at the helm, but how Lila would react was anyone’s guess.
“Hey.” I looked up from where I was situating our supplies, and Cal was walking over. He had his braids pulled back in a ponytail and had a bag slung over his head. He scanned the field and raised an eyebrow. “This is quaint.”
I gave him a quick hug, trying to ignore how my legs protested at the way I had to go up on my tiptoes to do it. “Well, it’s not much, but it works and is ours, so I’ll take it.” I turned around to where the Widows were all in various states of preparing and cupped my hands around my mouth. “Ladies, can you huddle up? I’ve got someone I