Climbing up a few steps, I sit on the bench next to her, and together we watch the guys out on the field. They’re divided into smaller groups, one half wearing gold while the other has purple jerseys, and they’re obviously working on something. A play? Drills? I’m not really sure.
I have never been a sporty girl or interested in jocks, in general. Okay, I’ve never been interested in boys. Don’t get me wrong. I like them just fine. When they’re not stinky or overall gross. I guess a part of my reluctance toward them comes after watching my mother fall for losers all my life.
I might have never met my father, but I’ve met all the guys since, including Penny’s dad, and they’ve been just a bunch of idiots who’d storm into our lives, cause some ruckus and then walk right back out, leaving me to pick up the pieces.
“That one is Emmett,” Becky says, breaking me out of my thoughts. She points to the group in gold jerseys that’s taking one half of the field. They’re all wearing helmets, so I’m not sure I’d have recognized him even if I tried. Then she points out another guy. “And Miguel.”
“You guys finally talking again?” I ask, my eyes glued to the field. The last few days have been… tense. Becky and Miguel haven’t avoided each other, but there’s a silent hostility in the air any time they’re together.
“We’re…” Her voice has a funny tone to it that makes me turn my head to look at her. She tilts her head back, thinking. “Us, I guess.” She flashes me a quick smile. “Don’t worry. We always find our way back to normal.”
I nod as if I understand. I don’t, but I’m not about to ask more questions. Instead, for a while, we just sit quietly under the Texas sun and watch the green field.
Coach, at least I think it’s Coach, blows the whistle, and the boys fall in line. One guy in a gold jersey stands on one side of the line, while two in purple stand on the other. They’re all in that weird half-bent, half-crouching position you always see football players in as they face each other across the line. Coach blows the whistle one more time, and the guys facing each other clash together. I wince at the sound of pads crashing into each other, accompanied by grunts and growls.
“He’s really good, isn’t he?” I ask as Emmett brings the first guy down and then catches the second before he manages to slip past him, wrapping his arms around him and clenching tightly until they both fall to the grass.
“One of the best.” Becky smiles, and this time it’s genuine. “If somebody’s got a shot at going all the way, it’s probably him.”
I turn toward her. “You mean like, pro?” My voice drops to a whisper, and I can feel my eyes widen. I mean, I knew he was good. There’s just something in the way Emmett carries himself. In the way people react to him. But pro kind of good? I didn’t see that one.
“Yeah, he already had college scouts watching him play last year. He’s that good.”
I look back onto the field, where they’re working on the same thing over and over again. Guys switch so that everybody takes a turn to practice, but there is just something when Emmett’s on the field. Something…
My tongue darts out, sliding over my suddenly dry lips.
“Pro, huh…” I whisper, more to myself than for Becky’s sake. She’s not even listening because she’s on her feet cheering loudly as Emmett once again takes two of his teammates down.
Is it really surprising, though? No, not really. I just watched him play, even at practice, he has that air about him that demands people’s attention. Something about him screams born leader. Then there’s that charm of his. So natural. Effortless.
I could totally see it, see him, going all the way. He’d be amazing. A golden boy from a small town in Texas making it big and showing people that it’s actually possible. That hard work pays off, and dreams do come true.
I should be happy for him. Why does just the thought of it make my gut clench?
“What is all of this?” I ask a little while later when we get ourselves to school, my eyes darting around the unusually busy hallway.
“Watch out,” Becky laughs, pulling me to the side just as the banner falls down.
“Sorry!” a guy yells from up the ladder.
“Be careful, or you’ll kill somebody!” Becky shakes her head as she glares at the group hanging up the banner. “Seriously, these people.”
“Are they preparing for a parade or something?”
“No, we’re preparing for the pep rally.” She must see my blank face because she explains. “First game of the season? Football, Kate, we’re talking about football here.” Becky shakes her head, laughing. “What did you think they were doing out there? Training just so we can drool over their sculpted butts in those tight pants and their shirtless bodies in the heat?”
My cheeks heat as I remember the end of practice and how they started to take off their clothes before even hitting the locker room.
“No idea.” I shrug. A strand of hair falls into my face, and I don’t bother pushing it away. “I don’t really follow the football schedule. Football, well sports, just aren’t my thing.”
Becky’s eyes bug out.
“You what?” She looks around as if she’s afraid somebody can hear us. Grabbing my arm, she pulls me to the side. “You can’t say stuff like that around here.”
“Umm… okay?”
She snaps her fingers in front of my face. “I’m serious; this place lives and breathes football.”
“Okay, okay, I got it.” I roll my eyes, laughing. “I’ll keep the fact that I don’t give a shit about football to myself.”
“Hey, there.”
My head snaps to Becky, my smile falling as I hear his voice behind my back. We both probably look like deer caught in the headlights. Becky shoots me an I-told-you-so look, which earns her a glare.
Slowly, I turn around to come face to face with Emmett and two of his football friends.
“Hi?” I say weakly, plastering on my most innocent smile.
“Were you guys watching practice?” Emmett smiles at us.
“Who cares about that?” The annoying one—Jack? Justin? No, John. I think that’s the one—crosses his arms over his chest and stares at me. “Did you just say you don’t like football?”
“Umm…” I tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Sports just aren’t my thing?”
“Girl, you just haven’t watched the right sports yet.” He throws his arm over my shoulder and pulls me into the crook of his arm. “But no worries, there’s still hope for you.”
He starts pushing me down the hallway, all the while talking about football. I look over my shoulder at Becky and the rest of her friends following after us. I catch her gaze and mouth, “Help,” but she just grins and shakes her head no.
So much for us being friends.
EMMETT
“She doesn’t like football,” John yells in my ear, all the time shaking his head like somebody just told him Santa isn’t real. “Like where did she live? Somebody needs to teach that girl what the real sport is.”