“That’s because my shoulders are chip-less.”
I look at Rose and shake my head. She turns back to Arlo. “Details!” she demands, practically bouncing with anticipation.
“It’s not a big deal,” he finally says. “I was just kind of seeing a girl, and things didn’t work out.”
“Oh, well, that’s not exciting. I was waiting for you to spill the tea, tell me she wanted you to wear butt plugs or something,” she responds, slightly dejected at not getting any juicy details.
He throws his head back and laughs, exposing his corded neck, which I may or may not find sexy. Jeez, first forearms, now necks…
“Do you mind giving me the address where you found the cat?” I ask, trying to divert my attention. “I can swing by tomorrow between classes and try hanging some fliers.”
“You probably want to try apartment row. That’s the only place I can think of that would be near where I found him.”
“Are we sure he’s a he?” I ask, glancing at the couch the kitten is still hidden beneath.
Arlo nods a yes but then shakes his head, his credibility dwindling fast.
“We should—” before I can finish my thought, a leg on the chair Arlo’s sitting on cracks, and he falls to the floor with a thud.
“Shit!” Rose gasps as we both move to help him.
“Still don’t believe in curses?” he asks me.
7
Arlo
“Banks!” Paxton cheers, punching his fists into the air as Tyler Banks, my current replacement who just accepted a handoff from him, sails through the end zone.
I’m supposed to be happy right now. Relieved and proud of my team for seamlessly recovering from my absence, and of Tyler for working his ass off to fill my position. Coach has been seating Carson and keeping Stone in though he graduates in mere months. It has my doubts expanding with each practice.
However, should be and is are polar opposites today.
Dusty, an assistant coach who likes to pretend he doesn’t play video games on his phone during practice, looks at me. “He’s killing it.”
Truth be told, I was paying more attention to Dusty’s game than Tyler’s.
I nod. “He is.”
Dusty bumps his elbow against my bicep, “Your reps are still looking good. I saw you benching, and you were an animal today.”
“Yeah, except that damn weight fell off the end.”
Dusty’s eyes grow wide. “That was crazy, man. I’ve never seen anything like that.”
I consider telling him about my curse for about two seconds before deciding against it. If everyone reacts the way Rose and Olivia did last week when I told them, I’m going to be heckled and laughed at until I’m either able to end this hex or it wears off—assuming it will wear off. Because after the chair I’d been sitting in broke, Rose asked about the curse and proceeded to laugh and called me crazy for a solid five minutes, making Olivia’s reaction look tame.
Coach Harris cuts his attention to us and waves us over. It’s the wrap of another practice where my participation included filling drinks, cheering, staring at Dusty’s phone, thinking about the cat, and whether or not Olivia hung the posters and received any calls. Dusty walks ahead of me, my crutches making a click-click with each of my steps as I stare at Coach Harris and recall Rose telling me he’s Olivia’s father. It’s hard to see a resemblance, with his bushy white eyebrows and mostly gray hair. His eyes are a darker shade of blue and his lips thinner, his nose rounder. He’s chewing a wad of gum—a habit I never see him without.
“This was a great practice. Let’s focus on our wins today and apply those tomorrow.” He claps, revealing another habit—he never remains still—another stark contrast to Olivia, who sat back and watched while I told Rose about my theories of a curse.
“Get some water, shower, and then you guys get to class. We’ve only got a couple of months until spring season is over, and I want to make sure we’re ready for the first game in the fall.” Our undefeated season should be proof that we’re ready, but instead, it seems to have left everyone on edge because the first thing you learn when you hit the top is there’s only one place to go: down.
“Brighton on three,” Coach Harris yells in his raspy voice. “One! Two! Three! Brighton!” The team joins in his cry, and I raise a crutch.
The crowd disperses toward the locker room where I follow, Lincoln at my side. He rolls his right shoulder, his face blank of the pain I’m sure he’s feeling from a previous injury.
“You all right?” I ask.
He looks at me and then nods.
“Did you know Coach has a daughter?”
Lincoln’s gaze shifts behind us and then back at me. “Harris?”
“Yeah.”
He shakes his head. “Tell me you didn’t nail her.”
Something between a scoff and a chuckle nearly makes me choke as I think about Olivia and knowing he wouldn’t be asking this if he’d met her. “No, she’s cool. She’s roommates with a girl I know. We’re partners in a biology class.”
Lincoln cringes. “You nailed her roommate?”
“No. I mean, I probably would’ve, but—”
Lincoln breaks into laughter, shaking his head. “Okay, so, you met the coach’s daughter whose friends with a girl you would’ve had sex with but didn’t? Am I following?”
“Remember the cat I told you about?”
“The one you nearly killed, yeah?”
“They’re taking care of it since Caleb’s allergic,” I explain.
“So, the coach’s daughter and this girl you would’ve nailed are like, your kitty mamas?” Lincoln laughs again. “I’m kidding … mostly. But, that’s weird.”
“She looks nothing like him, and she’s from Texas.”
Lincoln cringes, his gaze traveling to Derek Jones, our other starting wide receiver who spent the fall semester focused on Raegan Lawson—Paxton’s little sister, and now Lincoln’s girlfriend. Derek transferred to Brighton last summer from Texas, and to say Lincoln’s still a little salty is a gross understatement. His expression clears in an instant, and he claps a hand on my shoulder, coming to a full stop in front of me, several feet still from the locker room. He shakes his head. “Don’t do it. Don’t even think about it. Stay away from the coach’s daughter. That is guaranteed to blow up in your face.”
“I didn’t say I was.”
“You didn’t have to. The fact you’re telling me about her says enough. Wash your hands of that mess. Remember thinking Paxton would rip my balls off for being interested in Rae? Imagine Harris finding out you boned his daughter. You’ll be riding the pine all fucking season, and it’s your senior year, man. You do not want to meddle with this shit. There are a hundred girls who want to play nurse with you right now. Do that, or don’t, but stay away from her.”
“She has a boyfriend, and she wants to move back to Texas. I’m not getting involved.”
Lincoln stares at me, disbelief and doubt tugging at the outer corners of his eyes, nearly making him wince. “I hope not.”