Page 30 of First Down Promise

“Eighty-one.”

I shake my head and keep twirling my pompoms like I’m supposed to.

When we finally move to the sideline with the first play in motion on the field, Carina stands in front of me. “I saw that,” she snaps.

“What?” I ask.

“Why was Josh so focused on you?”

“Because we’re friends. I have a few of those on the team, if you weren’t aware,” I snap. I cover my face with my hand, careful not to smudge my makeup. “Oh my God, this is why you guys hate me.” Carina just rolls her eyes and walks away.

The offense doesn’t score on their opening drive, so they come off the field while the defense guys line up. Josh stands in front of me with his back facing me and takes his helmet off, revealing his normally fluffy hair already plastered to the sides of his head with sweat.

“Don’t take anyone’s shit,” he says quietly. My chest warms at the fact that he even noticed.

“Trying not to,” I reply.

“Good.”

I turn away before anyone can catch us interacting and notice Pete sitting with a tablet in his lap, studying it intently in quarterback mode. He glances at his wristband playbook, then back to the tablet while Coop and Dane sit together on a nearby bench. They’re laughing about something, and I have to resist the urge to ask them to fill me in. I recognize other familiar faces, like the rest of the offensive line and the head coach, Glenn Murphy, but I know better than to disturb anyone.

At halftime, we have to do our routine, and it’s so damn outdated and cringe. I could spruce it up with my background in pop dance, but it’s a moot point. No one on the squad would listen to me aside from Sadie, and she’s just as popular with these girls as me. As I perform our meticulously practiced routine, I’m grateful the guys are in the locker room for their fifteen-minute break. Pete would laugh at this, but Josh wouldn’t.

A single tear falls from my eye.

I should be in that crowd, wearing comfy Stallions gear and cheering with their fans. Or in a skybox. Not wearing a top that pushes my boobs up to my chin and barely there shorts my dad would frown upon. Why am I doing this? Bragging rights? For what? To make a few hundred bucks per game? It’s such a joke.

We line up again to welcome the guys back out on the field, and like last time, Josh catches my eye. But there’s no grin on his face this time. He sees me and continues ahead. Did he get yelled at?

“Thank God next week is an away game,” Sadie mutters to me on the sidelines.

“Yeah, I get to go home,” I reply.

An away game in Wisconsin. About time. Pete arranged my travel because, in his words, there’s no way he can go to Wisconsin for a game and not let me come. I don’t think we’ll have time to see our childhood home or go to our favorite restaurant, but it’ll still be a break from home games. I used to hate away games because Pete had to go out of town, but now they’re a breather.

After the game, we finally get released to our locker room. I pull my phone out of my locker, and it’s flooded with notifications, including a text Josh sent just two minutes ago.

Josh: Meet me by my truck.

I really shouldn’t. He’s parked in the private lot, reserved for players and staff.

Me: I shouldn’t.

Josh: Meet me in the hall then? Just for a minute.

Me: Fine, but it has to be quick.

As I exit the locker room, he’s leaning against the wall still in his uniform, streaked with grass and dirt, and he’s peeling the black tape off his fingers. His eyes light up when the locker room door closes behind me, even though exhaustion is written all over him.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

I subtly tug at the hemline of my uniform’s shorts, suddenly too aware of how much leg they expose.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because you looked upset on the field earlier.”

“It’s just a lot.” I glance up, and his expression is soft, maybe a little tired. “It’s not the same as wearing Pete’s number and screaming with the fans.”