Catch Me (The RLU #5)

Chapter 10

Theo

T he roar of the stadium pounds throughout my entire body, while a sense of dread follows in its path.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m good at doing my job on the field, so there is a sense of excitement there, but it’s dulled by the pressure and every other reason why I hate playing this game.

Add in the fact that I know my dad is in the stands critiquing me, and that leads me to want to be anywhere else but here.

I rest my forehead against the bathroom stall, my go-to place to center myself before I go out there and pretend to be someone else.

Along with taking deep breaths, I think of the things that do bring me joy.

My friends.

My sister and nephew.

The animals at the farm.

Sunsets.

Her.

A sense of calm washes over me at the thought of the last one, and with one last breath, I head for the locker room where I know everyone is waiting for me to deliver a speech of a lifetime.

As soon as I open the door, pandemonium begins. Everyone starts cheering, slapping helmets and huddling around me in a sea of dark-green-and-white jerseys.

I hold my hand up, signaling them to quiet down.

My gaze sweeps over the group of guys surrounding me, guys I have spent the last three years playing with. We’ve bonded on and off the field and have had each other’s back through the chaos that is being a student athlete. If there’s one thing I’m grateful for, it’s that football has brought so many amazing people into my life.

Minus Hunter, of course.

“For the seniors, our last home opener is minutes away,” I start, swallowing before continuing. “It’s the last time we’ll have this experience together. It’s the beginning of the end for us. But one thing that remains will be the bond that we’ve created. No one can take that away from us.”

Applause breaks out around me, but I know what they’re waiting for, so I dive right in.

“The men in this room are the hardest working players in the game today. The Florida State Sharks better give it their all, because we’re coming out of the gate at one-hundred-ten percent.”

The claps get louder, so I stand on the bench, raising my voice.

“This season is ours. We’ve worked way too damn hard these last few years, building up our team, to not take home the championship. I’ll give all I have to each and every game. Every bead of sweat, of blood, is for you boys. That trophy belongs here at RLU.”

The team whistles and shouts, getting pumped up like I knew they would.

“Coyotes,” I drawl, and they start howling back at me.

“Who’s gonna bring it home?”

The howls get even louder.

“I said, who’s gonna bring it home?”

“Coyotes!” everyone shouts and whistles, while some still howl in the background.

Then, we’re charging through the tunnel for the first time this season. I lead the team, running out onto the field past the cheerleaders and smoke machines, while the crowd goes absolutely insane at the sight of us.

My eyes instantly flick to the spot where I got a ticket for Marcela, and I swear my heart expands in my chest when I see her. She’s on her feet, clapping with the biggest smile on her face and my number painted on her cheek.

Even though our relationship is fake, it means the world to me that she came, because I know how uncomfortable these types of events are for her.

Then I look for my dad in his usual spot, just a few rows behind where Marcela is sitting. His signature cap is pulled low over his face to avoid attention, but I’d know that hat anywhere. It’s a basic black and white New York hat that used to belong to my mom.

To avoid getting in my head, I shift my focus to my sister and her husband,, who are on their feet beside my father, cheering and pointing me out to my nephew Mason.

I give him a wave and jog over to our team’s bench where I’m instantly surrounded by the coaching staff as we decide our first play.

As we set up on the field and wait for the game to start, I feel the need to not only impress everyone here and my dad, but Marcela too.

And there are no negative feelings attached to it. Instead, it’s exciting.

I’ve never had a girl come to a game before, considering I only had one short-lived relationship in high school. Besides, I haven’t been interested in anyone since Marcela came along. It makes me want to show her how good I am, and it’s with that in mind that I play one of the best games I’ve ever had. I throw six touchdowns, and we keep their offense at bay for the majority of the game, only letting them score three times. We win our first game of the season 42-21.

And the best part was that I didn’t have to throw to Hunter once, because he was never open. I call that a win alone in my books.

I jump off of the bench when the clock reaches zero, but instead of running to my team, I run to her. Because I’d imagine there is nothing that is going to piss off Ruby and Hunter more than seeing this.

I watch her standing behind the rails, biting her bottom lip in what I’m assuming are nerves, with her eyes locked onto mine.

“Celly,” I yell, and everyone in the section looks at me, watching as I stop right in front of her.

“Great game, Theo,” she says, looking genuinely proud.

It makes me grin, and I like hearing her say that more than I should, especially when she’s wearing my number.

“You ready for a Theo hug?”

Marcela’s eyebrows narrow. “I’m up here and you’re down there.”

I wave her off. “Lean over the railing and I’ll lift you.”

“What if you drop me?”

“Do you really think I’d risk hurting you?”

Her face softens at that, and she leans her arms over the railing, allowing me to lift her up and into my arms.

Nothing has ever felt as good as it does with Marcela in my arms. It reminds me of slow mornings at the farm when everything’s quiet, and I’d watch the sunrise, reminding myself of all the things I’m grateful for.

It’s the fullness in the stillness.

I spin her around, fully aware that there are thousands of people watching. Not only in the crowd, but at home too, as I’m sure there’s a few cameras on us right now.

“Remember, do not kiss me,” she whispers into my ear.

“Is on the forehead okay?” I whisper back as I set her down on her feet.

Her hands squeeze my forearms where they’re still holding onto me, and she gives me a slight nod. I lower my head and press my lips to her forehead. I can feel her cheeks lift as she smiles, and it hits me then that I never knew a kiss on the forehead could feel so right .

Her skin is warm under my lips and there’s a buzz running through my veins at the contact. It’s dizzying and fucking terrifying, because what if we ever have to actually kiss?

I might die.

I pull away, noting the slight flush on her face as I do. Before I can look too much into it, a reporter shoves a microphone in my face.

“Theo Miller, amazing job on the field today. You sure are living up to expectations to be just like your father,” the reporter says, her short blonde bob making me instantly recognize her.

Kelly Karson—the most intrusive sports reporter in college right now.

My arm wraps around Marcela’s waist, pulling her into me. I don’t want her getting lost in the crowd and I feel much better with her close.

“Thanks,” I give her a curt nod, ready to get Marcela out of here, when Kelly speaks up again.

“I’m dying to know, who is this lovely lady right here?” Kelly’s bright green eyes dance with mischief as she looks between the two of us. In my entire college career, I’ve never had a girlfriend, and she knows this story is going to sell. Theo Miller Loses Focus During Last Year Because He’s Too Busy With Girlfriend , or some shit like that.

“My girlfriend. Next question,” I smile, doing my best to come off respectful yet charming.

Kelly clearly doesn’t like my answer, but moves on. “Do you think the Coyotes have a chance to finally win the championship this year?”

“We’re going to give it all we’ve got, and hopefully that’s enough to get the job done. Thank you for the questions. We need to get going,” I plaster a fake, wide smile on my face as I wave to the camera and then escort Marcela away from the madness.

The action on the field is dying down as players from both teams are leaving to their respective tunnels for post-game debriefs, one I need to attend myself. I find us a quiet corner in the hallway, out of sight from anyone lingering. As soon as we’re alone, Marcela steps out of my arm, putting space between us.

“I’m sorry if that was too much for you,” I tell her, apologetic. I know how she likes her space and that was probably her worst nightmare.

“No, it’s okay. I knew this was expected territory, but I do appreciate you respecting my privacy with the reporter. Even though everyone online will have it figured out in a few minutes.”

“Shit, I didn’t even think about that.”

“Honestly, it only rubs it in their faces more, so I truly don’t mind.”

“Ah, so you are in it for the fame,” I tease her, crossing my arms over my chest.

She rolls her eyes, but laughs. “Oh, yes, because there is nothing I want more than people stalking me and ruining every ounce of privacy I have in life.”

We both laugh at that, but it’s cut short when we hear footsteps coming down the tunnel. Marcela steps closer to me, not quite touching me, but I notice it all the same.

My dad’s tall figure comes into view, making my stomach twist instinctively.

“Hey, Dad.” I shake his hand once he stops in front of us. “Pretty good way to start the season, huh?”

“You made me proud today, son,” he admits as he lets eyes that match mine sear into me. But today he’s genuinely proud, I can see it there.

The nerves in my stomach begin to settle until he turns his gaze to Marcela.

“And who is this?” he asks.

“My girlfriend, Marcela. Marcela, this is my dad, Randy Miller,” I introduce them.

Marcela sticks out her hand, “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

My dad scoffs. “Don’t call me sir, but it’s nice to meet you too,” he says as he shakes her hand, a playful smile on his face that I don’t see too often.

I’m surprised by the gesture, but I know my grandma taught him to never disrespect a lady. His real feelings about this will come my way later. I’ll receive a phone call once we’re both home, where he’ll warn me that I better not throw my future away for a girl.

“What are you studying?” my dad asks her.

“English literature,” she replies, her shoulder brushing against mine.

“Do you want to be a schoolteacher or something?” His tone is genuine, not accusatory like I’m used to.

Marcela shakes her head. “My plan is to get a master’s degree and work at a publishing house.”

“That’s good. I like that you have goals of your own.”

I keep my eyes from rolling, because it’s clear to me he’s trying to see what her intent is in being with me.

She gives him a slight nod and smile.

“Alright, I better get going. Your sister’s waiting to drive me back to the farm. I just had to come say congratulations on a great game and … to meet your beautiful girlfriend.” My dad gives a genuine smile as he waves. “See y’all at the next game.”

I’m a little bummed that my sister and nephew didn’t come to find me, but Mason’s probably in need of a nap, which means my sister is probably exhausted.

“See you, Dad. Tell them I say hey.”

“Bye,” Marcela says softly.

Once he’s out of view, Marcela steps away from me.

“Sorry about him.” I run a hand through my sweat-soaked hair, yanking on the strands.

“Don’t be. I get it. He’s looking out for you. It’s what every parent does for their kid.”

It suddenly dawns on me that I don’t know anything about her family, but as much as I want to ask, I realize right now isn’t the best time. I need to get into the locker room for a post-game debrief and a shower.

“I have to meet the team,” I thumb toward the end of the hallway. “Are you okay to get home?”

Marcela groans. “Yes, Dad , I’ll be fine to walk to my car.”

I step closer to her and whisper in her ear, “If you want to call me daddy, I’m more than okay with that.”

Her cheeks turn red as her eyes widen. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Sure, Celly,” I wink as I begin to walk backward. “Text me when you’re home safe.”

I watch as she does her best to suppress a smile before turning and walking the opposite way. My heart nearly comes to a stop, because her ass in those leggings should be illegal.

Fuck. Stop. You can’t have these thoughts.

We’re friends, pretending to date to help her through a tough situation. I can’t think of her that way.

Despite how much I wish I could.

As I walk out of the football stadium, I open my phone and see a message from Marcela telling me she’s home safe. I text her back and then open my group chat with the guys to find a few unread messages.

Ry Guy

When were you going to tell us about your girlfriend? And that it’s fucking Marcela of all people?

Eli Oldi

You have the biggest mouth in the world, how did you not tell us the second it happened?

Ronnie Boy

I’m happy for you man, I know how long you’ve wanted this.

I frown at that, because I’m about to tell them how this is all for show and ruin their excitement.

Me

Just got done from post-game debriefs, so I was a little busy. Don’t get too excited though, we’re fake dating.

Eli Oldi

Is this some kind of prank or something? It sounds like a book Jasmine just finished.

Me

It’s not. Her shitty ex and old best friend are back here at RLU, so we agreed to fake date so they don’t think they got the upper hand, you know? Keep it quiet though, otherwise that would defeat the whole purpose and those two would have a field day with that information.

Ry Guy

What the fuck.

Ronnie Bo

Ryker you can’t judge. You pretended to be friends with benefits with Camille when deep down you knew you wanted way more than that.

Ry Guy

I like quiet Cameron more than blunt Cameron.

Eli Oldi

Can we focus here? Theo, you sure you can handle this? According to Jasmine you’ve had a crush on Marcela since…the day you guys met right? Can you really keep it casual?

Me

I’ll try. I have to, for her. I’d do anything to help her.

Ronnie Boy

You’ll hurt yourself just to help her?

Me

I’ll be good, you guys know I don’t take anything too seriously.

I try to remind them of the Theo they know so that they’re not as worried. But I’m not quite sure if I’m doing it for myself or for them.

Ry Guy

Just be careful Theo.

Ronnie Boy

Agreed, we care about you and don’t want this to go south when you guys eventually do fake break up.

My stomach sours at the thought already, but I keep that to myself.

Me

Appreciate you guys. I need to get some sleep though, being the best quarterback and carrying the team is exhausting.

Eli Oldi

Cocky fucker. You’re not wrong though, great game today.

Ry Guy

Seriously, the team is looking great. You better bring home the championship this year.

Ronnie Boy

Aurora was cheering you on through the screen. You did so well, man. it’s crazy how talented you are.

Me

Thanks, guys.

Once I put my phone away, I toss and turn, unable to sleep because their words play on repeat in my mind. Not about me getting hurt once this is over, because I know without a doubt that will happen, but the present reward is worth it.

No, what’s playing in my mind are their comments about me as a football player. The guys have no idea how much I loathe being one. They always hype me up and tell me how great I am, which I know, but it doesn’t help ease my guilt over despising something others would kill to be doing.

I could play for a few years and make enough money to never work again. But I don’t care about that. Don’t get me wrong, I want to be able to provide for my family forever. I just don’t care to make millions at the cost of my mental well-being.

What’s the point of making all that money if it’ll make me miserable?

I’m sick of my body feeling beat up all the fucking time. I hate the pressure of the game and the pressure I’m subjected to from my dad. Besides, football itself isn’t very safe, like what happened to my dad. I’d be furious at myself if I got injured playing and it ruined my quality of life, all because I didn’t have the guts to pursue what I really want.

It’s on nights like these that I think of my mom, and what she’d say if she were here.

I don’t have many memories of her because I was only four when we lost her, but my sister does. She told me all about her once I was old enough to understand.

Ally said that my mother was the most understanding and loving person there ever was. She was soft-spoken, yet fierce when protecting loved ones. She was raised on the same farm we were, and she spent her life doing what she loved—helping animals.

When she met my dad, he was this city guy who’d never been to the country in his life, but once he saw it through her eyes, he fell in love.

So much so that even after she died, he continued her family’s legacy just to preserve her memory and passion. With my sister’s help, they’ve elevated it with horse riding classes, holiday special events, and a year-round market with produce grown on the farm.

I’d like to imagine that she’d tell me to follow my heart and do what makes me happy. As a kid, that seems like the easiest thing to do. If it makes you happy, do it. If it doesn’t, don’t.

But no one tells you just how complicated that truly is as an adult.