Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
It’s game day. I’m rounding up the Flooders who forgot where their loyalty lies.
They don’t hear me bossing them around much, which is probably why they hop to attention. “Yeah, okay, Samwise.”
Haymitch and some of the guys scrounged up about a thousand camping chairs so the Flooders can go full soccer mom on the sidelines.
Let’s go. The more hoopla, the better. These girls have shown up in a big way—Sophie the drill sergeant had them practicing before Christmas break, weeks before any other floor even thought about their intramural football team.
Truth is, I actually expect some points on the proverbial board.
G1 was pretty terrible last year, but Sophie took the reins and recruited me as their coach.
That was months ago—back in just-friends life—and I couldn’t be happier I agreed.
I’ve actually loved working with them at practice.
Not to mention Sophie’s thousand-watt smiles would be enough to motivate the greatest of men.
My favorite game and my favorite girl. It’s a beautiful thing.
They’ve put in the work, and if I call out the right corrections, make the right substitutions, keep everyone focused, maybe I can make sure they get the outcome they deserve.
It’s just some casual flag football, but standing on the sideline while the offense plays sends me straight back to senior year.
I had signed to play football at the University of Texas—a lifelong dream—until I destroyed my ACL at the end of the season.
Very few 4A players get recruited, so to have it ripped away?
Dad and I were devastated. Took me a year to get back to full speed, and by then making the pros was pretty much out of the question.
Besides, by that point I had fully embraced this school’s awesome weirdness.
Levi and I lucked out getting each other as roommates—God’s provision to us both.
He showed up like the richest, suavest runaway in history, and I was trying to figure out who I was without football.
I had spent my whole life with the same kids in our town, never really learned to make friends.
Plus, Varsity had rolled out the red carpet for me, and when my team won the Texas State Championship—4A, but still—it made us town royalty.
Girls flocked to me. Guys respected my skill.
Then I showed up at Mayberry with a bum knee and no idea how to navigate life without football.
Levi taught me everything he knew, and I became someone again.
But now? Seeing myself through Sophie’s eyes?
It’s not so simple. If all of that made me someone she liked, maybe it was worth something.
But knowing how much my serial dating hurt her, I’d take it down about a hundred notches.
When I’m with her, even over here running the sideline, that reckless side she brings out crackles beneath my skin.
The commitment, the focus, the loyalty that drove me in football—it’s all still there, but it’s different with her.
Healed, somehow. Whole. It’s too easy to lose the joy of it when everything hinges on performance, but Sophie reminds me why I loved it in the first place.
She’s not my first girlfriend or my first kiss, but she’s the first to hit me like a lightning bolt. She’s been different in every single department.
I wish she’d believe that, but it’s my fault she doesn’t.
As if I weren’t already smitten, Coach Austin is enough to knock me off my cleat-clad feet.
His football voice is all business, but paired with a constant stream of encouragement, Austin-style.
His patience is unreal. He’s taught us so much, and even the less-than-coordinated girls are making real contributions.
Rocking his new “Coach Taylor” G1 shirt and sleek black running shorts, his strong legs are on display. It’s chilly out here, but he’ll keep his heart rate up clapping and pacing.
I love playing his game. Spending more time with him wasn’t a deterrent, but I didn’t ask him to be our coach because we were friends. Or because I was hopelessly into him. He’s by far the most qualified. Not to mention the kindest, most understanding, most fun … I could go on.
His intense coaching face keeps slipping, softening into an affectionate smile when our eyes meet. I didn’t expect that.
This is nothing like competitive volleyball.
My teammates in high school were my girls, but they were also fierce.
Cutthroat. This team is singing “We’re All in This Together,” all “sorry!” and giggles.
Club volleyball was focus and drive, proving myself every second.
Flag football is me trying to tone down my competitive nature enough to actually have fun.
I mean, I had to play volleyball with G3 last semester since G1 didn’t even compete.
At least everyone’s showing up for this one.
And get this—Kit is a stellar kicker. She was decent in practice, but something about game day has kicked—ha!
—her into overdrive. That charming grin from the blond dude on the sidelines isn’t hurting.
I’ve still never seen her dance for real, but apparently she was a straight-up child ballerina for over a decade.
She’s got the legs, the power, the focus.
We’re putting them to good use. She’s been graceful, powerful, deadly accurate.
I got her and a few of the others to agree to war paint for our first game. Kit ditched her signature knot and the shorts she wears to the dance studio. Tonight? Ponytail. Joggers. A teammate. An equal. And it’s … good.
We won. We actually won!
“Who are we?”
“G1!”
Victory buzzes. My girls are jumping and cheering, acting like a team in a big way.
An immediate celebration field trip is in order.
Austin’s running around, delivering high fives and specific compliments to every girl on the team.
And for a second, I almost want to be the girl who stays back with her guy.
Almost. In large part this win belongs to him, and I don’t want him to think I don’t appreciate him.
Levi always missed the start of floor celebrations to wander off with Kit, and that’s not the kind of relationship I want.
“Soph.”
He saved me for last. His eyes are on fire. His mouth tilts mischievously.
My breath catches.
“Tryin’ to beat me at my own game?” He draws closer.
“Maybe. Wanna make it official?”
“Tackle?”
I push his arm at his roguish grin.
He pulls me out of the chaos, hands gripping my upper arms, turning his back to everyone. “As your coach, I have to say, it’s not fair that you were MVP and the total knockout. Try to share with the other girls, okay?”
Can a face split open from smiling too hard?
One hand low on my back, pulling my hips to his. The other holds my jaw.
Behind me my teammates are singing like second graders. “Sophie and Austin sittin’ in a tree.”
His herculean body shifts to shield us from everyone else. “You are absolute fire.” That glinting smile grows as I’m left waiting.
Then finally his full lips meet mine—slow and loaded with meaning. And another. Before my vision can focus again, he spins me around and nudges me toward the girls.
I twist back to look at him. What did you do to me? I’m dizzy enough to swing at a pinata.
Austin
Song of the day
“No L’s” by Forrest Frank