Chapter Nineteen Cash
Chapter Nineteen
Cash
The home opener, the ’Cat Tracks game, was as big of a deal for the fans as anything I’d ever seen.
Compared to the home opener at my old school, it was like playing a state championship versus practice.
Even though our opponents were a decent D-II school who’d won their division last season, the outcome of the game was a foregone conclusion.
Not that we prepared for it that way or that the fans saw it that way.
On paper the home opener would be a blowout, yet the crowd was as fired up as if we were playing our cross-state rivals, the Golden Bears.
In fact while we waited in the tunnel, we could hear the crowd chanting their favorite anti-Golden Bears chant.
Having never experienced so much excitement for a game before, my adrenaline was through the roof.
More than anything, I wished I were starting the game, but Coach Wiley had assured me I’d have my chance in the third quarter, so I had to content myself with that.
After we ran out onto the field, I noticed Bax and Finn’s attention zeroing in on a certain area of the student section.
When I glanced over to where they were staring, I grinned.
Standing in a row, waving their arms over their heads and cheering, were Saylor and her friends Chessly and Piper.
The purple highlights in Piper’s hair made her easy to spot, but it was the hot tank top Saylor was wearing, with a massive Wildcat logo covering her gorgeous rack, that had all my attention.
With her flowing mane of blonde hair and that hot shirt, she stood out in the crowd like a supermodel.
With my helmet on, I knew she couldn’t see my eyes, but I hoped she could sense my stare enough to figure out I’d spotted her. When she stopped jumping up and down for a second and looked in my direction, I grinned. Mission accomplished.
Then it was time to dial my entire focus onto the field, where for the first two quarters of the game, Patty and the first team tore it up.
I swear they couldn’t make a bad play on either side of the ball if they tried.
Patty connected with Danny Chambers on a skinny post Danny turned into a touchdown to start the party rolling.
Then Bax and Finn held a team meeting at the quarterback in the backfield, stripping him of the ball and setting up an easy touchdown run for Tarvi, whose antics in the end zone cracked me up.
That he didn’t earn an unsportsmanlike conduct flag for excessive celebration was a minor miracle.
In the second quarter, Callahan O’Reilly joined the fun, running a beautiful fake block on the outside linebacker, who bit on the run in the run-pass option, while Patty’s pass landed right in Callahan’s breadbasket as he streaked down the sideline.
At halftime we were up 24-0 on the Husker State Blue Dogs, and everyone raced into the locker room on a high.
“Men, that was one fine half of football you played out there,” Coach Ellis began.
“You executed the game plan exactly as we drew it up.” He took a second to stare down all of the starters.
“Which was the expectation and what we want out of you during every quarter we play this season.” Turning his attention to the rest of us, he said, “Now it’s your turn to show us what you’ve got.
We need to know beyond a doubt that the next man up can seamlessly fill his role. Go! ’Cats!”
A chorus of, “Go! ’Cats! Go!” followed his pep talk before we broke out into our respective groups—offense, defense, and special teams—for some last-minute adjustments from our position coaches for the second half.
When we ran back out onto the field, the crowd noise was at a considerably lower volume since so many fans had remained outside the stadium to enjoy the late summer weather while imbibing beverages at the tailgates.
Between the late afternoon heat and our big first-half lead, I should have expected the drop-off, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t it bug me.
Feeling the rush of the crowd’s love as a starter was what every player lived for, and more than anything I wished my circumstances had turned out different.
Then I glanced up to the student section where Saylor and her girls were, and my whole attitude shifted.
Both she and Chessly clanged cowbells as Piper saluted Bax with a cup. His chuckle beside me only confirmed my observation.
“Looks like we’re giving the girls a good show. Hope that means they’re not going to make us work too hard tonight.” His self-deprecating laughter said he expected Piper to make him work no matter what.
No wonder he wanted her.
“You got a hot date lined up?” I asked.
“The afterparty is at our place,” he said as if I should know better.
Since the Blue Dogs had won the toss at the beginning of the game—the only thing they’d won so far since we’d owned the line of scrimmage—Dalton kicked off to start the second half.
Even though they allowed two first downs on the Blue Dogs’ opening drive, our second-team defense did their job and sent our opponents off the field empty-handed.
Then it was my turn to run out to the huddle—finally.
Coach Wiley’s last name was certainly apt, wily strategist that he was.
On our first play from scrimmage, he called Josh Mitchell’s number, giving him a chance to show off the deep routes he loved to run, and giving me a chance to show off my arm.
We caught our opponents flat-footed, so when I dropped a dime on Mitchell streaking downfield forty yards on a post route, it was all over but the shouting.
One thing about that play: it padded the hell out of both our stats as he raced into the end zone.
After that I spent the rest of the third quarter handing off or tossing short slants on RPOs. We still ended the quarter up 38-0, so I had no doubt the coaching staff was happy with our play.
LeSean started the fourth quarter at QB, and the chip on his shoulder was big enough to see from space.
For the first time all game, the offense went three-and-out in his first series, and judging by Coach Wiley’s tone when LeSean came off the field, his patience for LeSean’s attitude was nonexistent.
LeSean deliberately bumped my throwing shoulder when he blew past me on his way to the bench, which pissed Patty off.
A few seconds later, Patty was sitting beside LeSean, and from the expressions on both their faces, they weren’t exchanging pleasantries.
Not my problem.
I’d been inviting LeSean to our impromptu practices since the first week after my arrival at Mountain State.
It was his choice not to join us. It wasn’t my fault I’d come to the team with a better skill set than his.
But his attitude wasn’t doing him any favors.
On his next turn on the field, he coughed up the ball when he misread the defense and tried to run it, resulting in the Blue Dogs’ only touchdown of the day.
When he threw his helmet onto the bench after he came off the field, Coach Wiley called me over.
“Put your helmet on, Donovan. You’re finishing out the game.”
I exchanged a quick look with Patty, who nodded at me to go out and do my job—which I did and then some.
With about five minutes left in the game, the defense bit on the pass—I couldn’t blame them after I tore them up earlier—leaving a wide-open lane for me right up the middle.
When I saw daylight between me and the end zone, I turned on the jets and nearly scorched the turf with my speed.
The roar of the crowd when I crossed the goal line gave me a high I hadn’t experienced since winning the state championship in high school.
After I flipped the ball to the ref, my teammates swarmed me, thumping me on the pads and on the top of my helmet with Mitchell running over to do the crazy hand jive we’d made up as a touchdown celebration.
When I returned to the sidelines, I overheard Coach Wiley say to Coach Ainsworth, “That satisfy your concerns about his knee?”
Ainsworth answered by pulling me next to him. “Fucking good work out there.”
As I started to say thanks, he smacked me on the ass, sending me over to the bench for a much-needed shot of electrolytes from one of the trainers.
The Blue Dogs’ longest drive of the game came on their next series.
It didn’t end up in a score, but it did end my time on the field as they ran out the clock.
We finished with a 45-7 win to open the season—something Coach Ellis let us celebrate in the locker room.
After the coaches left us to shower and change, the team leaders reminded us that the celebration would be over in the morning when we came in to watch film—but for tonight, the party was at the Victorian on Jock Street: Bax, Finn, Callahan, and Danny’s house.
After we arrived home, my roommates and I devoured two full Pickle Barrel subs each before heading across the alley to the party.
When we stepped into the back yard, the cornhole games were in full swing.
Loud laughter and music filtered through the back door into the yard, and I headed inside.
While I was all about celebrating our win with my teammates, I was even more interested in finding a certain hot blonde.
Though we’d left our place together, somehow Dally was already running the keg when I stepped into the kitchen.
He poured a Solo cup full of beer and handed it to me.
I’d just raised it to my lips when I felt a pair of eyes boring into my back.
Turning toward the doorway leading to the dining room, I locked eyes with Saylor.
It took a second to weave through the throng of people lined up for beer, but then I was standing directly in front of her, admiring how good her Wildcats T-shirt looked on her.
“Enjoy the game?” I asked as I crowded her through the doorway and into a corner of the dining room.
Though she played coy with her little shrug, the twinkle in her eyes gave her away. “You seem to know what you’re doing on the field.”
With my back to the room, I placed my hand on the wall beside her head, cocooning us in our own little bubble.
“If that touchdown had been in the correct end zone, I would have pulled an O’Reilly and pointed the ball at you like he does to Jamaica.
” Grinning, I tipped back a drink of beer and waited for the fireworks.
On cue she straightened to her full 5’8” in her wedge heels, her eyes blazing into mine. “I’m not—we’re not—it’s not like that with us.”
It was my turn to shrug. “Whatever you say, princess. But I bet the two of us end up at my place tonight.”
The fire in those changeable amber eyes blazed brighter. “You are so full of yourself.”
“Yet you can’t stop yourself from sneaking peeks at my mouth.
Doesn’t take a clairvoyent to know what you’re thinking about.
” I winked. “Seriously, babe, I’m not like those guys who think with their dick first. But when I’m around you, my dick is always paying close attention.
” I moved a fraction closer, letting my body heat warm her already smoking-hot body.
A loud cheer went up from the flip-cup game being played on the dining-room table behind us, so I couldn’t be completely certain about the foot stomp I think she indulged in. Still, I didn’t hide my smirk at her response.
Then I leaned down and whispered, “For the record, kissing you—and doing other things with you—has been on my mind ever since you stopped by to see me after you came home from Denver.”
I covered her exasperated gasp with my mouth.
The barely-there pressure of my lips on hers gave her the chance to pull away easily if that was what she wanted.
Instead, she fisted her hands in my T-shirt and tugged me close as she took over the kiss.
Sliding her tongue into my mouth, she teased and plundered me to the point of losing my mind.
Somewhere in there, I dropped my hand to the small of her back and hauled her up flush against my front, while our mouths vied for supremacy as the kiss deepened and heated to a conflagration determinedly burning all my common sense to the ground.
Loud laughter in my ear penetrated my lust-filled, Saylor-induced fog. “Hey! Get a room!”
Slowly, with several little nibbles on her lush lips, I pulled out of the kiss.
“Damn, man! That kiss should be in a porno,” some other asshole shouted in my other ear.
The way the air was sawing in and out of my lungs, anyone would think I’d run half the length of the field with eleven hostile defensemen on my heels. I dropped my forehead onto Saylor’s and worked to rein in my breathing.
“Sorry, babe. When it comes to you, I have trouble holding back.”
A breathy little giggle slipped from her. “Same, Mr. Football. Same.”
“Maybe we should go dance or something.” I nodded in the direction of the living room where the thumping hip-hop beat vibrated the floorboards.
“Or we could watch cornhole for a minute on our way through the back yard…” She let her voice drop off, telling me everything I wanted to hear.
I let the corner of my mouth turn up. “Or we could do that.”
Sliding my fingers through hers, I led us out of the dining room, through the kitchen and the laundry room, and into the back yard.
I finished what little beer was left in my cup as we watched a few of my teammates razz each other over their cornhole-playing prowess.
When a group of basketball players tumbled down the back steps into the yard, Saylor tightened her fingers around mine, a silent cue for us to wander off while everyone’s attention was elsewhere.
After hanging out at the loud party across the alley, the silence of my house when I let us inside echoed around us. A shiver rippled over her, and she let go of me to rub her hands over her arms.
“Hey, if you’ve changed your mind, no worries. We can hang out, catch a movie, play video games—”
She cut me off by slipping her arms around my waist and burying her face in my chest. “I haven’t changed my mind—which is what worries me.”
Though she mumbled that last part under her breath, I caught it anyway—and smiled as I wrapped my arms around her.
While she could keep telling herself this thing that had started between us last spring was temporary and only for fun, somewhere deep inside she knew as well as I did that we’d crossed a threshold the first time we made love.
She may not be ready to admit it yet, but from tonight on, I was determined that every time she let me come inside her, I’d be binding her closer to me.