Chapter Sixteen Taryn
“N othing happened. But I had a weird sense that Danny wanted something to happen,” I said as Zoe and I met up in the Union between classes.
The semester had started in the usual way—massive syllabi filled with reading until my eyes crossed and projects and papers coming out the wazoo. Nothing about my last year was going to be easy, so I truly didn’t need the additional complication of Danny Chambers.
Zoe narrowed her eyes. “If he’s playing you, he’d better be making friends with the big guys on his team is all I’m saying.”
“Since classes started, he hasn’t been by the coffee shop, so maybe he was testing himself out on a friend.” I stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Union at the students passing on the sidewalk.
“As if he needs to practice flirting.” My friend snorted. “Danny is the king of flirts. He probably flirts in his sleep. You of all people know that.”
With a sigh I slumped back in my chair. I did know that. All that touching when we were playing mini-golf was about him being bad at losing and trying to distract me not about him having any romantic interest in me. I needed to shut down my fantasy life pronto, especially with the semester I was facing.
“You’re right. As usual I was convenient.” Sitting up, I said, “I still want to go to the game on Saturday. Wanna come with?”
She shrugged. “Sure. What the hell? It’s going to be warm and sunny. I can work on my tan and enjoy the halftime show.” The puckish smirk on her face drew an answering smile from me. “The band is doing a tribute to Ghost Busters . Should be entertaining.”
“I swear you’re the only person I know who pays to attend football games so you can watch the halftime show.”
“What can I say?” Her eyes twinkled over the rim of her Diet Dr.Pepper. “I’m a woman of refined taste.”
“Hmmph! You like football as much as I do. Don’t pretend you don’t.”
“Yet for someone who enjoys it as much as you do, you’ve seen far fewer Wildcats games since we’ve been at MSC than I have.” The tinge of accusation in her tone reminded me of how many Saturdays I’d spent studying or working rather than going to games with my friend.
“Yeah, well, it’s our senior year. I’m going to make an effort to enjoy college more, starting with going to a game this weekend.”
She put up her hand, and I smacked it in the air as we exchanged a grin.
Game day was glorious. Definite suntan weather. Zoe and I showed up in Wildcats tank tops and shorts. The blanket she insisted on bringing served both to cushion the hard metal seat and to save our legs from sizzling on it. Hidden in the folds of the blanket was a cowbell, which she rang vociferously whenever our guys did something good on either offense or defense. For someone more interested in the marching band’s halftime show, she sure cheered hard for the team.
The second the Wildcats burst onto the field behind a phalanx of riders mounted on horseback and the tumbling gymnastics of the cheer squad, I spotted Danny in his number 82 jersey. Up close and personal, he was a big man, but in his pads, he was massive—and so sexy. It wasn’t only his size but the way he moved, with the grace, purpose, and aggression of a wild tiger. He’d certainly walked on to the right team.
Throughout most of the first half, he stood on the sidelines always near the coaches. It was a trick he’d learned from bouncing from high school to high school. When it was time to put someone new onto the field, the coaches often called the name of the first guy they saw unless the scheme or the play demanded someone specific. Since this was a nonconference contest against a team from a lower division, it was an opportunity for the second and third-string players to show off their skills in a live game situation. Knowing Danny the way I did, I had no doubt he was going to snag as many chances to be on the field as he could.
Sure enough, with about a minute left in the first half, the coach called his number. A little thrill ran through me as I watched him race out to the huddle. When the huddle broke, he lined up in the slot. My entire focus was glued to him and his first opportunity to catch a pass in college. Instead, when the center hiked the ball to the quarterback, Danny sidestepped and blocked a linebacker while the quarterback handed the ball off to the star of the Wildcats run game: Tarvarius Johnson. For a second, I wondered if Hailey was even paying attention to the game on the radio at work to know her current love interest was burning up the field due to a hole Danny had created for him in the defense.
The defense tackled Tarvarius on the twenty-five-yard line, and Danny stayed on the field for another play. This time when he lined up in the slot, he slipped past the linebackers, and the quarterback arrowed a pass to him as he crossed the middle of the field. A defender met him at the ball, but he held on even as he absorbed a brutal hit. Though I tried to curb my reaction, I couldn’t help but cringe behind my hand covering my mouth. Beside me Zoe clanged her cowbell like a madwoman for Danny’s forward progress.
With seconds left on the clock, the coach called a time-out. When the team ran back onto the field, Danny was on the sidelines while Callahan O’Reilly, the Wildcats’ star tight end, won the glory of catching a pass in the end zone for a touchdown. I was sure Danny had to feel good about his contribution.
The team went into the locker room at halftime with a substantial lead.
I had an urgent need to use the ladies’ room, but Zoe told me I could hold it until the end of the marching band’s routine. “You’re going to stand in line for as long as it takes these guys to wow those of us left in the stands who know entertainment isn’t limited to tanking up on alcohol at the halftime tailgates in the parking lot,” she intoned as she linked her arm through mine.
“Sadist. If I wet myself, your blanket will pay the price.”
“I’m willing to take that chance.” The dare in her eyes was only marginally more wicked than the smirk on her lips.
As advertised, the band entertained the hell out of us. By the end of their show, I’d forgotten my bladder emergency as Zoe and I danced to the upbeat sounds of one hundred musicians having way too much fun on the field. By the time they’d marched off, we’d laughed as we asked each other, “Who ya gonna call?” over and over again.
At last we made our way to the concession area where my friend’s prediction proved true. The line to the ladies’ room had thinned down to the point I only had to wait behind two other people to take care of business. We grabbed a Coke from the concession stand and returned to our seats in time to see the other team punt to us. This time when the offense took the field, Danny was part of it.
He lined up in his usual place and beat the linebacker to his spot. But this time when the ball landed in his arms, O’Reilly was there to block the defender. Instead of some defender pancaking my friend to the turf, Danny turned upfield and kicked in the afterburners. In a split second it seemed, he’d put fifteen yards between him and the nearest defensive player. But the safety had a good angle on him and ran him down after he gained about thirty-five yards.
In my excitement, I grabbed Zoe’s wrist—the one she was using to clang her cowbell—and doubled her efforts. “Way to play, Danny!” I screamed.
When the offense lined up again, Zoe tugged her arm from my hold and with a rueful expression rubbed her wrist. “Next time, you should bring your own cowbell.” A thought struck her, and she said, “Matter of fact, they sell them in the concession stand. You should go buy your own right now.”
“Can’t.”
She lifted a sardonic brow.
“The offense is still on the field.”
As if to emphasize my point, the center hiked the ball, and the entire backfield erupted into chaos. The quarterback tossed the ball to Tarvarius who ran toward the opposite sideline. On the way, he tossed the ball to Danny who ran toward our sideline. Then Danny tossed the ball back to the quarterback who threw it to O’Reilly streaking down the sideline toward the end zone. As designed, the play confused the defense to the point a lumbering end, rather than a speedy cornerback or safety, tried to chase down our tight end who had surprising hustle for such a big man. When he crossed into the end zone for the second time during the game, the rest of the team swarmed him while I helped Zoe clang her cowbell again.
When the Wildcats lined up to kick the point after, she shoved her noisy toy into my middle. “Fine. You take this,” she groused. “I’ll go downstairs and buy one for myself.”
“Sorry, Zoe. Sometimes the cheerleader in me makes a rowdy appearance. Here.” I handed the cowbell back to her. “The defense will be on the field again for a few minutes. I’ll go buy my own.”
Without giving her a chance to respond, I turned and excused myself past the other fans in our row and headed down to the concessions beneath the bleachers. When I returned with my own noise-maker, the offense was back on the field—minus Danny and all the starters. We were up by four touchdowns with a quarter and a half to go. Guess the coaching staff felt comfortable in letting the backups play. But what did it mean that Danny wasn’t with them?
I tamped down the giddy flame of hope that tried to light up inside of me for him. This was only the first game in a long season. Plus, it was against an inferior opponent. D-II schools didn’t draw the same caliber of talent that played for D-I or even D-IA programs. If Danny wanted to move into a starting role on the Wildcats, he’d better look stellar against this D-II team.
In the fourth quarter, he went back out on the field. Without the starters in the game, it became more of a slugfest, but the Wildcats’ backups were holding their own. This time instead of lining up in the slot, he lined up wide, and I couldn’t contain my excitement for him having the chance to show off his skills in his preferred position. The center hiked the ball, the quarterback dropped back, and Danny ran his route, completely faking out the defense. But the quarterback threw the ball short. Though Danny came back for it, he couldn’t get there. Luckily, the cornerback whiffed the interception, and the ball landed without incident on the turf.
Danny jogged back to the huddle, but when they broke, he was back in the slot blocking for the running back. The way he imitated the Hulk after he knocked the defender to the turf cracked me up. He was so into the game—and so was I.
In high school I’d been on the sidelines up close and personal with the action—except all the backups and subs had stood between the cheer squad and the players on the field. Kaitlyn Frost, our cheer captain, held the prime position for seeing who was on the field—offense or defense—so she could call out the right cheers. While several times I’d seen Danny streaking into the end zone after he caught a pass from the Darth Vader of quarterbacks, Derek Watson, I’d never actually seen him play. Watching him from the stands was a whole other experience. No wonder he was so popular with the team. No wonder so many girls swooned over him.
Judging by his play in the season opener, he was headed for that same adulation at Mountain State. The thought took some of the fun out of watching him play. In the end, we won though he didn’t make any touchdowns. Still, he did exactly what he said he’d do: run routes and catch passes. Admittedly, I was biased and not a coach, but from where I was watching, he’d played well. The team definitely benefitted from having him on it.
“What do you say we grab a burger?” Zoe asked as we joined the flow of fans leaving the stadium.
At her suggestion my stomach rumbled—loudly—and she shot me a side-eye. Laughing, I said, “Sounds like a plan.”
Hopping in my car, we waited in line in the parking garage for twenty minutes before we could hit the road at last.
“I swear, we’d have been better off walking to the game,” she sighed.
“If we lived on the south side of town, maybe. On the plus side, most of these people are probably headed to the bars, so we should be able to find a table at Burger Bill’s.”
“I hope so,” she said as I wheeled us into the flow of traffic.
Unfortunately, parking on or near Main was nonexistent. By the time we’d walked the two blocks from my parking spot to the café, we found ourselves on a wait list. Grabbing our beeper from the hostess, we went back outside to sit on one of the benches in front of the place.
“From what I saw today, you didn’t take my advice,” Zoe said as she spun the beeper between her hands.
“What do you mean I didn’t take your advice?”
I knew damn well what she was talking about. From the sardonic expression on her face, she knew I knew too.
“Are you going to the football party that player invited you to?” she asked.
Rearing back as though she’d slapped me, I said, “Not only no, but hell no.” Striving for some semblance of calm. I forced my shoulders away from my ears. “Zo-Zo, those parties are not my scene, which you’re well aware of. But if you want to go, we can swing by the coffee shop after burgers. I’m sure Hailey has all the deets. She might even welcome a wingwoman.”
My friend shook her head. “Stop trying to change the subject. You’ve been hanging out with Danny a lot since he landed here. From the way you cheered for him this afternoon, it’s junior year of high school all over again.” She patted me on the knee for emphasis.
“I haven’t seen him at all since classes started, so I think it’s safe to say he was only hanging out with me until he met some people.”
Right then my phone vibrated in the pocket of my shorts. As though he sensed we were talking about him, the devil himself sent a text.
Danny: Hey, T. Some of the guys are headed to Stromboli’s to celebrate our win. Wanna join us?
Me: Zoe and I already have a table at Burger Bill’s. Have a good time.
“See?” Zoe said, her tone making it clear what a sap she thought I was.
“I just turned down his invitation to join him and his boys at Stromboli’s.” It took superhuman effort to avoid sticking my out my tongue and adding “so there.”
My phone lit up with another text.
Danny: Make room for a third. See you in ten.
Wait, what ? He was ditching his teammates to have dinner with us? Why?
The beeper in Zoe’s hand did its thing telling us our table was ready.
When we headed inside, I said to the server, “Is there a chance we can have a table for three? A friend texted and wants to join us.”
“Sure, no problem.” She led us to a table with four chairs situated near the back of the café.
Clearing her throat as we sat, Zoe said, “Table for three? Someone’s joining us?” The naughty gleam in her eyes hollowed out my stomach almost as much as Danny’s text inviting himself to dinner.
Holding out my phone to her, I said, “I did not invite him.”
As she read our texts, the look in her eyes turned speculative. “This might be a little different from high school. Maybe giving four years of his life to the government changed his priorities.”
Shaking my head, I tamped down the tiny flutter shifting through my body at her words. Danny was still Danny. I was still me. Nothing had changed.
We were in the middle of deciding our meals from the ridiculous array of burgers when I sensed Danny’s presence. Pulling out the chair beside mine, he sat down and made himself at home.
“Hey, T.” As always his smile lit me up. “Hi, Zoe. Long time no see. How have you been?”
“Just ducky.” She grinned. “Seems like you didn’t miss a step in your four years away from the game.”
Our server showed up with our drinks and asked Danny what he wanted. After putting in his order for iced tea, he replied to Zoe’s unspoken question. “I found time to toss around the old pigskin.” Tilting his head, he shot her a suave grin. “My unit had the best flag football team in our division.”
“No doubt because your team had a receiver who doesn’t drop balls.”
He touched his fingers to his forehead in a salute. “Exactly.” Turning to me, he asked, “What did you think of the game?”
Tapping my index finger to my lips, I pretended to consider my answer. “It’s kind of mean to beat up on a lower-division team, isn’t it?”
“No one twisted their arm to play against the big boys.” He smirked.
“Mmm, their AD might have, what with our AD offering them the big bucks to take you guys on,” Zoe added sagely.
“Do not harsh my buzz, Lampee,” Danny warned, but the corner of his mouth hitched up. Sliding his arm across the back of my chair, he said, “Seriously, T. What did you think of the game?”
I knew he meant his game, but his arm across the back of my chair distracted me.
“I can tell you what she thought,” Zoe chimed in. I shot daggers at her with my eyes, but she blithely ignored me. “She thought she needed to take my arm off helping me ring my cowbell when you made a catch.” Her unapologetic smirk warranted the kick I landed on her shin beneath the table. She didn’t even flinch. Traitor.
The server arrived with Danny’s drink and to take our orders. I ordered the Burger Bill’s special with fried onions and huckleberry sauce. Danny, who hadn’t even glanced at the menu, copied my order right down to the truffle fries. Zoe asked for her usual mushroom Swiss with extra jalapenos.
Leaning back in his chair, he regarded me. “So you enjoyed the game. Enough to try to take more Saturdays off?” The hope hiding behind his cocky tone surprised me.
“I’m working fewer weeknights, so I’m going to need those Saturdays to pay bills.”
It was Zoe’s turn to kick me under the table. Unlike her, I wasn’t stoic.
“Ouch! What was that for?”
An eye roll was my answer, which made zero sense. Wasn’t she just berating me about succumbing to my old crush on him before he arrived?
“We’ll figure something out,” he said as though he had a say in my schedule.
I blinked.
“Why aren’t you at Stromboli’s with your teammates? Isn’t that the Wildcats’ hangout?” I asked. “I’ve seen several of their commercials for it.”
“A couple of my roommates have NIL contracts with them, so I’ve been there a few times.”
Zoe wrinkled her nose. “NIL?”
“Name. Image. Likeness. People like to go where the team is, so businesses pay players now to advertise for them.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted an answer, but the weird way Danny was acting what with his arm still draped over the back of my chair and ordering the same meal I’d ordered threw me. The fond way he looked at me threw me too.
“You said you already had a table here, and I haven’t seen you since classes started, so I decided to celebrate our win with a burger rather than a pizza.”
Our dinner arrived, and we all tucked in as though we hadn’t eaten in a week. Yet when it was all said and done, fortunately for Danny, neither Zoe nor I could finish our fries.
As he swirled the last of Zoe’s fries through the ketchup left on his plate, she asked, “Are you joining your teammates at the celebration party tonight?”
He shot me a side-eye and said, “Depends. Do you want to go?”
“No, thanks. But Zoe’s interested.”