Chapter Six Danny
Taryn came home for about a minute and a half over the Fourth of July. She stayed in town long enough to watch the parade with me, let me horn in on her family’s annual park picnic, and drive me to distraction with her pure delight at the fireworks. Good thing those shows take place in the dark so she didn’t catch me adjusting the front of my jeans more than once. Her sexy oohs and aahs made me wonder what she sounded like during other activities people liked doing in the dark...
The next day she left town again almost before I’d rolled out of bed. When I dropped by the house to discover her gone, Mrs.Hamilton’s unhappiness with T’s choices told me this behavior was new. I had to wonder if T’s need to return to campus was truly about a job and a class or possibly about something—or someone —else. The thought soured my stomach.
I’d had the idea of talking to her about arriving at fall football camp a day or two early, having her show me around campus, maybe casually easing her into a date or two. Instead, we’d spent the entire Fourth with her family. Her actions had implied she was deliberately making sure I didn’t have any one-on-one time with her. Then she’d skyed out of town without even saying goodbye. Something was off, but damned if I could figure out what.
When I arrived on campus the day before fall camp, I reported to the men’s dorm where freshmen and transfer players had been assigned until we found permanent living arrangements. With limited exceptions, freshmen were required to live in the dorms for at least the first semester.
As I dropped my gear in my assigned room—one I was sharing with a junior college transfer player, thank Christ—I wondered if there was any chance I’d connect with an upperclassman on the team who was living in a house or an apartment and open to taking in a roommate. The idea of spending even a semester in the cramped quarters of a shared bedroom, even with a Wildcats teammate, set my teeth on edge. Plus, Coach had said he’d help me with an exception to the living-in-the-dorms rule.
Of course the first thing I did after dropping my duffel on the bed next to the wall, staking a claim to it, was text Taryn.
Me: Got a minute to grab a coffee? Maybe show me around campus?
Crickets.
I mindlessly scrolled through social media, watched a couple of videos on YouTube, and—
Crickets.
I tried again.
Me: Hey, T? You around?
Stretching my legs, I stared out the window at the gorgeous summer day and wondered where she could be, who she could be doing.
“Fuck!” I hissed. This was Taryn I was thinking about. Beautiful, sweet, innocent Taryn. The fact my mind kept straying to thoughts of her with someone else only proved how much I wanted her. How much I had always wanted her.
We weren’t in high school anymore. When I left the Air Force, I’d seen to it that the two of us would not only be in the same time zone but on the same campus. Both of us were single—I hoped. If she was seeing someone else, I wasn’t making the mistake of being supportive again. Not after what went down this past spring. No way was I taking a chance on losing her again.
After an hour without a response to my texts, I gave in to my growling stomach. Along with my room key, the desk clerk had given me a campus map and pointed out the cafeteria directly across the quad from the dorm. With it being summer, not too many people were enjoying dinner in the sprawling space. While the selection was decent, I knew from experience the test was their hamburgers. If they could make a decent burger, the rest of the food would probably be passable. Admittedly, Air Force chow halls had spoiled me. Tina wasn’t wrong when she said my branch of the military had the best reputation for taking care of its service members.
I ordered a burger and slid my tray over to the condiments station where I loaded it how I liked it with jalapenos, tomatoes, bacon, lettuce, and aioli. The fact the cook had fried up my burger fresh in front of me with a thick slice of Swiss on top gave me confidence the food on campus would be good at least. It needed to be to make up for the three-inch piece of foam masquerading as a mattress I was expected to sleep on in the dorm.
As I glanced around the space, none of the few people seated at the wood-grained tables struck me as a football player. A tall, rangy guy in a corner booth caught my eye and nodded toward the open seat across from him.
What the hell? I thought. Might as well make a friend—or at least not look like a complete newbie by eating my dinner alone.
“You joining the team?” he asked as I slid into the booth.
“Hope so. You?” I took a pull from my ice water.
“Scholarship. But I’m redshirting this year. My friends say I’m a cocky bastard.” He grinned. “But even I’m not stupid enough to try to compete head-on with Wyatt Baxter.”
My brow went up. Clearly, this guy knew a lot more about the team than I did. Seemed like a good opportunity to do some scouting I hadn’t been able to do solely by watching film.
Extending my hand across the table, I said, “Danny Chambers.”
“Grant Stratton.” We shook. “Nice to meet you.”
“Tell me about Baxter.” I bit into the succulent burger and tried not to groan. It had been more than a minute since I last ate.
“He’ll probably go in the third round in the draft to some team whose defense sucks next season.” He forked in mashed potatoes drowning in gravy. “Best damn middle linebacker at this level. Probably could have played D-I.”
“He a senior?”
Grant stared at me for a second as if I’d grown an extra head.
“I honorably discharged from the military a couple of weeks ago, so I’m not quite up to speed with the individuals on the team yet.”
With a nod, he gave me a pass. “Nah, he’s a junior. You’re walking on, huh?”
Shoving in a mouthful of fries, I nodded.
“What position?”
I chased that mouthful with a long draw on my water, swallowed, and said, “Receiver.”
As he eyed my shoulders and chest, his brows pulled together. “You sure? You look like you could play tight end.” He cleared his throat. “Which I wouldn’t recommend pushing for if you’re walking on.”
“Why’s that?” I swirled several fries through the lake of ketchup on my plate and popped them into my mouth.
“Because Callahan O’Reilly is likely to go second round in next year’s draft. The man is a beast. Best blocker and best hands on the team.”
I grinned. “Sounds like you’re kind of a fan.”
Color rode high on Grant’s cheeks, and he ducked his head. “Grew up down the street from the stadium. I’ve been going to Wildcats games since before I could walk.”
“Good on you to earn a scholarship to play for them.” I reached a fist across the table, which he bumped, my move relaxing him.
I had this kid by four years, but as far as the team went, we were both freshmen and new. We’d probably be playing together throughout our college careers, so it seemed a good move to be buddies rather than to emphasize the differences in our age and experience. Besides, he had all the deets on the team—details I could use.
“Baxter and O’Reilly redshirted their freshman year, and it’s worked out pretty good for them, so I thought I’d follow their example.” He shoved more food into his mouth, chewed, swallowed. “I can’t wait to get out there and start learning from them.”
“Out of curiosity, what were your high-school stats?”
His cheeks fired up again, and he mumbled into his plate, “Defensive Player of the Year.”
“For your high school?”
“For the state.”
I sat back against the cushion of the booth and let a long whistle go. “Damn, Grant. That’s rock star shit. And you don’t think you can compete against the big dogs?”
“My older brother played O-line for the ’Cats. He drilled it into me that the guys who have the most success are the ones who pay their dues.” He finished a glass of milk. “He said I earned my cockiness my senior year. But when the season was over, he told me to tuck that shit away because I’d be starting over.” With a shrug, he added, “Tristan always has my back, so when he tells me something, I listen.”
My initial reaction was to flip him some shit about being a good little brother, but the truth was I envied Grant’s closeness with his brother. What I wouldn’t give to have had a brother—someone to watch out for and who’d watch out for me. Though I’d hoped to build those kinds of relationships in the military, my deployment didn’t work out that way. But from what I was hearing from Grant, and from what Coach Ellis had implied on the phone when I contacted him about walking on to the team, I might find that brotherly camaraderie on the Wildcats. Grant inviting me to share a meal with him was definitely a good start.
When I returned to the dorm, I discovered my roommate for camp had arrived. In general, football players were big men, but Tamatoa Hall took up all the space. He stood 6’7” at least and clocked in somewhere north of three bills. If our offensive coordinator drew up jet sweeps for me, I hoped he’d set me up to run behind this guy. No doubt he could open up holes in the line big enough to drive a semi through.
“You Danny?” he boomed with a voice that could fill a stadium without a PA system.
I extended my hand, which disappeared in his meaty one. “Yeah. You must be Tamatoa.”
“All day every day.” The guy’s grin was infectious, and I grinned back at him. “Nice work there getting the pronunciation right the first time. Didja eat already?”
A laugh slipped out before I could stop it. “Sorry. Yeah. Just left the mess hall.”
“Huh. Well then, you can have a beer while I eat pizza. Let’s go.”
I blinked. “Hello, what?”
He held open the door to the room. “I’ve been texting a couple of the guys on the line. We’re meeting up at a place called Stromboli’s. You have anything better to do?”
I thought about texting Taryn again, maybe hanging out with her, but when I pulled out my phone to check my messages, she still hadn’t replied to my previous texts.
Damn .
“Nope. Lead the way.”
“Like you hope I do every game this season?” He laughed at his joke, and I nodded.
“Exactly that.”
The pizzeria was handily located between the dorm and the stadium, so we ambled to it. One thing about linemen that hadn’t changed since I’d played in high school: they didn’t expend unnecessary energy by moving faster than needed.
I shoved my hands into the pockets of my jeans and settled in for a stroll. “Tamatoa. That’s an interesting name.”
His chest puffed up. “It’s Samoan for ‘warrior child.’”
“Nothing ‘child’ about you.” I laughed. “Until I see you on the field, the jury’s still out about warrior.”
“Watch who you’re dissin’, boy,” he said in his booming voice. “You’re sharin’ a room with me for at least the next couple ’a weeks.”
A couple walking toward us on the wide sidewalk stopped to stare, and he grinned.
I tipped my chin up at them as we passed by. “Not too worried, warrior child . You have no idea about my speed—yet.”
He clapped a massive hand on my shoulder, and I had to work not to stagger under the force and weight of his gesture. “I like you, Danny Chambers. You got guts.” Dropping his hand back to his side, he said, “Where did you play ball last?”
“Central Valley High School.”
Stopping in his tracks, he asked, “You’re a freshman?” Shaking his head, he added, “Day-um. From your size and the way you carry yourself, I pegged you as my age at least.”
“Probably older.”
His dark brows knitted together. “Come again?”
“I did four years in the Air Force, so technically, I’m a freshman, but I’m on the far side of twenty-two.”
“That explains why I didn’t intimidate you back at the room.”
I snorted. “You were trying to intimidate me?”
“Testin’ you out more like.” He smirked.
The corner of my mouth tugged up. “We play on the same side of the ball. The only testing we need to do is to see if you can keep the defense away from the QB long enough for him to find me streaking downfield.”
“Don’t you worry about that, soldier.”
When we walked through the doors of Stromboli’s, the heavenly aromas of baked bread, melty cheese, and beer assailed my nostrils. Though it had only been half an hour since I powered through a burger, fries, salad, and a big-ass chocolate brownie in the cafeteria, my mouth watered for a slice or two of pizza and a brew.
Scanning for a table, I took in how the place was one long room with a few round tables in the front by the door, a few more in the back past the long bar, and a row of booths lining the wall across from the bar, ending near a doorway in the back. The place was fairly busy for a Sunday evening, but a booth near the back opened up, so we wandered over and slid into it as a pretty blonde server wiped the table.
“What can I get you to drink?” she asked.
I shot a glance across the table at Tamatoa. “We’re new here. What’s good?”
“Our summer specialty is a Belgian wheat. We also have lager, IPA, hefeweizen. Whatever you’re in the mood for.”
“I’ll take the Belgian wheat,” I said.
My roommate said, “Make it a pitcher. I’m thirsty.”
Though the server had come off as a bit tired while she listed off the available beers on tap, she perked right up when he unleashed that grin of his. I shook my head and stifled a laugh.
“Menus are on the table.” She indicated four or five laminated folders tucked in a holder against the wall of the booth. “I’ll be back in a minute with your beer.”
“How much privacy are you going to need during camp?” I asked, noticing Tamatoa’s eyes were following the server’s ass as she walked over to the bar.
A laugh barked out of him. “You’re safe. I like to go to the girl’s place.”
My brows went up.
“Makes it easier to slip away afterward.” He dropped that grin again, and I shook my head.
As we perused the menu, a large body at the front of our booth blocked some of the light.
“Couldn’t help overhearing the two of you talking. You two joining the Wildcats?”
“That’s the plan,” I said.
The guy—who wasn’t much smaller than the warrior child—sized us up, his focus on Tamatoa. “Which side of the line do you play on?” he asked.
“Offense,” Tamatoa boomed, and I hid a smile.
In a short time, I’d already started figuring out his tells.
The new guy beamed at him. “Good to know. The O-line needs some guys your size.” Turning his attention to me, he asked, “How ’bout you?”
“Receiver.”
If anything his smile grew even broader. “We need someone with hands to take the pressure off Callahan.” Extending his hand to Tamatoa first, he said, “Finn McCabe, D-end.”
“Tamatoa Hall. Left guard.”
“Danny Chambers.”
We shook.
“Mind if I join you?” Finn asked.
Before either of us could answer, he was sliding into the booth beside Tamatoa.
I chuckled. “Linemen always stick together, don’t you?”
“Keeps you skill guys honest,” Finn shot back. He held up his fist for Tamatoa to bump as though the two of them had been playing together for years.
As had been the case in every new school in every new town the captain had dragged me to as I was growing up, I was starting as the odd man out. It took a hell of a lot of restraint not to sigh in resignation as I shook my head at my new teammates.
Right then, another guy showed up.
“Hey, Finn, why aren’t you in our usual booth?”
“Making friends with the new guys.” Indicating the open space beside me, Finn said, “Have a seat, ’Han. This is Danny”—he pointed to me—and “Tamatoa, our new teammates.”
“Callahan O’Reilly,” the new guy said as he shook our hands.
“I heard about you,” I said.
“Of course you did. ’Han’s got the best hands on the team.” Finn grinned at Callahan.
Callahan picked his hat up off his head, ran a hand over his hair, and set it back down backward. “We need some receivers bad.”
“We’re in luck. Danny is a receiver,” Finn said with a meaningful look at Callahan—one I couldn’t quite decipher.
I chuckled. “Second-best hands on the team.”
Callahan’s brows shot up. “Cocky too, huh?”
“Nah,” I said. “Cocky would have been me saying ‘until now’ when Finn announced you were the best.”
Across the table, Tamatoa cracked up. “Yep. I do like you, Danny Chambers. I haven’t seen you play yet, but I think I’m going to enjoy lead blocking for you if the coach draws up some of them trick plays I watched on film.”
“If you can pull the way your size says you can, every skill player on the team is gonna wanna run behind you.” Finn smirked.
Right then, our server arrived with our beer and two glasses. Her eyes rounded at seeing the new additions to our table.
“How did I miss seeing you two come in?”
“We used the back door.” Finn laughed. “Grab us a pitcher of IPA and a basket of wings, please.” Turning to Tamatoa and me, he asked, “You two here to eat?”
My new roommate grabbed a menu, barely glanced at it, and said, “I’ll have a large everything pizza. You joining me, Danny?”
“I could eat a slice or two.”
“Make that an extra-large.”
“Make it two extra-large pies,” Callahan chimed in.
I poured a beer and slid it across the table to my roommate before pouring my own.
“Tamatoa. Interesting name. Is that like Krakatoa?” Finn asked, his eyes dancing. Then he let out a yelp and reached down, obviously to rub his shin where Callahan had kicked him. “What was that for?” he said with a pout.
Callahan rolled his eyes. “For being a dumbass to our new teammate.”
Tamatoa trained a good-natured smile on Finn. “I don’t mind being compared to a volcano. Krakatoa blew the roof off the world. Kinda like how I blow up defensive linemen.”
“See, Callahan? I gave him a compliment.”
I tipped back some beer and let the humor shine in my voice as I asked, “You gonna tell ’em what your name means?”
Like before when he’d shared the meaning with me, Tamatoa’s chest puffed up as he said, “It means ‘warrior child.’”
The server arrived with their beer, and Callahan poured each of them a glass. Then he raised his—a signal for all of us to join him.
“Welcome to the team, Danny and W.C.”
I used the distraction of the basket of wings arriving to discreetly slide my phone from my pocket to check my messages, doing my best to tamp down my disappointment at seeing nothing in my inbox. Worry nagged at me even though I knew I didn’t have a right to it.
My love life was off to a nonexistent start, but at least I’d started some friendships on the team.