Five
Holden
The week passes quickly, and before I know it, I’m suited up and running through the tunnel for yet another Saturday on the field.
We’re getting late in the season—this week’s match-up against the Crown Point Hawks — and we’re all aware this will be the biggest test of our abilities, as the Maine-based school still remains undefeated.
A fact which has nerves swirling through my body, causing me to bounce up and down like a deranged idiot as special teams lines up for kick-off.
The ball sails through the air toward the Hawks until it lands safely in the arms of a returner who calls for a fair catch around their thirty-yard line.
Special teams leaves the field, and I watch as the offensive line and Chase King, QB for the Hawks, takes position behind his center to start their first drive of the day.
He’s good, I’ll give it to him. I’ve been following his career as much as any other quarterback in our conference. Except there’s no way he’s gonna be leading Crown Point to victory today. Not if the boys and I have anything to say about it.
“You ready for this?”
Kason’s voice from behind me is startling, and I twist to look at him. Completely ignoring his question, I ask one of my own.
“Am I blind, or were you in stealth mode while standing here this entire time?”
“Nah.” He says with a smile before nodding his head back toward the stands. “Grabbed something from Phoenix quick before coming over here.”
My brows crash together. I’m not sure what response I was expecting, though it certainly wasn’t that. “He’s here?”
“He comes to all our games.”
I’m not sure why it surprises me, seeing as these two are about as codependent as two people can be—and both are entirely oblivious about it. But somehow, it still does.
For reasons I can’t quite place, I’m itching to look over and find him in the stands. Maybe even catch his attention and rile him up a bit. Still, through sheer willpower or stubbornness, I manage to keep my focus locked on Kason instead.
“I didn’t realize he liked football.”
Kason laughs and shakes his head. “Oh, he doesn’t.”
I frown some more, mostly not understanding how someone doesn’t like football. But also… “Then why does he come?”
“Show support. Being a good friend.”
I’d like to think of myself as a great friend to my inner circle, but Hell would have to freeze over before I’d be caught dead watching Oakley play hockey. I freeze my ass off enough just living through Chicago winters—there’s no way I want to do it for sport too.
“I see,” I murmur, watching our guys stop King from completing a quarterback sneak up the middle. “And what did he bring you?”
“Blue Gatorade,” he says, holding up the sports drink. “He brings me one before every game, and I’ll bring him a bag of dill pickle sunflower seeds during baseball season. Kinda been a ritual of ours since high school.”
The sentimentality of this little exchange makes me want to vomit nearly as much as the thought of eating sunflower seeds by choice. Then again, I’ll never understand the allure of playing baseball, let alone their mid-game snack selections.
“Adorable.”
Kason must hear the tiniest hint of sarcasm in my tone, because he knocks his shoulder pad against mine. “You’re telling me you don’t do anything nice for Oakley? Or the other way around?”
I doubt I could tell Kason his favorite color, to be honest. Then again, our friendship is more of the trolling, jabbing kind. The lighthearted fun rather than the heartfelt shit, even if he is one of the few people who knows the whole story about my parents.
“That would require him to stop thinking about hockey every waking moment.”
A lilt of laughter leaves him. “How did the two of you even become friends? You’re not from the same place, and you don’t play the same sport, so…” He trails off, but I’m easily able to follow his line of thinking, even if it is a bit unexpected.
“I answered an ad he’d posted about looking for a roommate near the end of my senior year, and I moved in the summer before starting at Leighton.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah,” I say with a nod. “He was living alone in the townhouse at that time of year, seeing as he’s the only one from Chicago. All our other roommates at the time weren’t due until closer to school starting.”
“So it was just the two of you.”
“Yeah, and it was awful,” I say with a laugh. “We butt heads constantly the first week, and I swear, I was this close to murdering him when he left one of his weird socks with red chili peppers printed on them in the washer. By the time I’d realized it, all my white clothes were fucking pink.”
He lets out a laugh. “Not a great way to kick things off.”
“Seriously. And he blamed it on me for washing my clothes in warm water.” I shake my head, recalling more of the fuck-ups we shared that summer before any of the other guys showed up.
Like the time I flooded the kitchen by putting dish soap in the dishwasher instead of the little pod thing, or the time we set all the smoke detectors off when we accidentally put a frozen pizza in the oven still on the cardboard.
“We spent a lot of time together, just the two of us. Made us bond, I guess, even if we don’t have a whole lot in common.”
The Hawks manage to get a first down on our guys thanks to King throwing one helluva pass to his tight end. He runs it a good twenty yards before one of our corners, Colson, takes him to the ground.
Standing on the sidelines watching our defense always makes me antsy to get out on the field to help the team. But I can’t do that if they don’t stop the damn ball.
Which is why I glance over at Kason, needing a distraction.
“What about you and Phoenix?” I ask, and I realize I’m intrigued as to how they ever became friends.
“We’ve been friends for as long as I can remember. I moved to his school around…sixth grade, maybe? Got thrown together on some class project, and it just kinda stuck.”
I blink at him, waiting for more of an answer, only for none to come tumbling from his mouth. “That’s it? That’s your great, grand story?”
“I take it you were expecting some great, epic saga?”
Yeah, kinda.
“Considering you talk about him like he hung the moon or something…” I point out, letting him fill in the details. Then a wicked smile curves my lips, and I add, “Besides, I gotta know what my competition is here.”
His focus leaves the game and flicks to me, his brows furrowing in noticeable confusion. “Competition?”
“For your love and affection, obviously.” I aim another winning smile his way. “Seems from what happened last week, he’s got one up on me.”
A smile cracks his composure before he lets out a soft laugh. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”
“Highly unlikely.”
He laughs some more, though it’s quickly drowned out by the cheers and screams of the Crown Point fans as King drives them further down the field with yet another first down—this time with a twenty-yard pass to their star receiver.
“Well, shit,” Kason mutters, and when I glance away from the field, I find him frowning. “Guess we have our work cut out for us on this one.”
I’ll say.
“But to answer your original question…” he says, rerouting our conversation, “I dunno how or why Phoe and I became friends in the beginning. We just clicked, even with us being so different. And over time, he became more like family. A brother. My person.”
My brows collide and I turn to look at him, cocking my head to the side. “Your person?”
“You know, Grey’s Anatomy? ”
I bark out a laugh and shake my head. “Nah, Kase. Can’t say I do know.”
“Well, for one, you’re missing out because of McSteamy alone.” He offers me a sheepish grin when I look at him like he’s lost all his marbles. “But essentially, it means Phoenix is the person I’d do anything for. Cross oceans, bury bodies, you name it. He calls me for anything, and I’m there.”
Yeah, that’s a little much to do for a best friend. For anyone, really. And if those are the general requirements, then…shit, I feel sorry for Oak. Guess he’s gonna be rotting in jail or stuck in Europe, because I don’t think there’s anyone I’d do those things for.
“And vice versa, I’m assuming?”
“He’s more like family to me than my own, so I’d like to think so,” he says with a laugh. “And he did come here with me for college, so I think it’s safe to say he’d do anything for me too.”
My mind catches on his words, and I frown. “What do you mean came here with you? He’s on the baseball team, so he’s gotta be here on an athletic scholarship just like we are?”
“Oh, he is.” Kason’s green eyes flash from the game back to me. “But he also got one to Foltyn College over in Oregon, which was originally his first choice.”
As it should have been. Besides Vanderbilt and LSU, Foltyn’s baseball program has been on the rise for the past few years. At least, according to Theo, it is.
“But he willingly came here instead?”
He nods. “Yeah, though it took a little convincing.”
Interesting.
Phoenix choosing to follow Kason here over heading to one of the top baseball programs in the country only adds to my assumption that there’s a little more than friendship on his mind. Something he’s been adamant about not being the case, yet all signs point otherwise.
Very interesting, indeed.
Our focus is again brought back to the game when Crown Point’s kicker takes the field.
They’re fourth and long now but are in easy field goal range at this point.
Not ideal, but I’ll take them scoring three points over six or seven.
Our guys line up for the kick, and a rush of adrenaline spikes through me the way it does every time I’m about to take the field.
But my focus wavers momentarily along with my resolve, and my eyes slide back to where Kason said Phoenix was sitting. He’s easy to spot, seeing as no one would be texting away on their phone from the first row at the fifty-yard line.
Or wearing Kason’s away jersey.
For whatever reason, the sight fills me with annoyance and jealousy. The latter is misplaced, I’ll admit, but the feeling is there regardless.
As if feeling his eyes on me, Phoenix’s gaze lifts from his screen to collide with mine.
There’s a niggling feeling in the back of my mind as we lock eyes, and it’s got nothing to do with the pure hatred radiating from him all the way to where I’m standing on the sideline. It’s something else entirely, but I can’t put my finger on what, and it’s driving me mad.
Almost like there’s a piece of the puzzle I’m missing. Some memory I’ve lost or interaction I’ve locked away in the recesses of my mind, yet I can’t quite figure out why I’m getting that feeling in the first place.
All I know is there’s gotta be some reason for the animosity he holds for me. A reason not at all related to Kason—who was no help in figuring out what it might be. But when the whistle blows, signaling the change of possession, I realize right now is certainly not the time to dwell on it.
Our offensive line begins rushing out to the field, and a mixture of anticipation and adrenaline churns in my gut.
“Show time,” Kason says, and I catch him bouncing out of my peripheral, clearly trying to hype himself up to take the field.
Phoenix’s gaze still bores into me, even after I break away to give Kason my full attention. I’m not one for words of encouragement—giving or receiving them—so I just give him a grin. “Damn straight, man. Let’s do this shit.”
And then, because I can still feel Phoenix’s attention burning me like a blow torch, I give him a nice little smack on the ass. For extra luck.
Kason doesn’t even notice as he takes the field, but when I glance back over to his bestie in the stands, I know he saw. At least, if the steam billowing from his ears like in those cartoons is any indication.
A smirk curls the corner of my mouth before I blow Phoenix a kiss, knowing it’s all that’s needed to get under his skin before I head out on the field for our first drive of the day.