Chapter 8 Zachariah #2
And I am, but something calls to me. Something is pulling me in the direction of the stands and I know it’s only because I can sense she’s got her eyes on me. But I can’t look. I want to, but I have to avoid it because right now, I have to stay focused.
There are only ten seconds left in the game and we have the ball.
The score is close, but the Panthers are surprisingly up by a field goal.
This means that we have ten seconds to score a touchdown and we’re on our own ten-yard line.
Should be simple enough, but the urge to break my focus and find the only pair of eyes that I truly care about watching me right now is strong. I have to resist.
I set my position, making sure I’m watching the ball from my periphery, ready for the snap. The crowd seems to quiet down for a moment but right as the center snaps it, cheers erupt as I take off on my route, juking past the defender and running left.
Shouting and cheering reverberates as I turn my body toward where I know the throw is heading, timing it so that it’ll land perfectly in my hands, but then the crowd dies down with a loud sigh of defeat while the other side breaks out into a celebration.
I turn to see what happened. “Fuck!” I shout. Brayden got sacked. I turn to look at the time clock. Four seconds left and now, we’re moved back onto the twelve-yard line.
I watch as a few of our guys help our quarterback up off the ground and he looks out at me, shaking his head in disappointment. It’s too damn early in the season for him to be getting sacked like that, something he’s likely thinking as well.
I hurry back to the huddle, feeling a sense of urgency swim through me when I realize that this is our last chance. Bray shouts off the play, every single one of us feels the need to get this right.
“Protect your fucking quarterback,” I shout to the O-line before running off to my position.
I watch for Bray’s signal, a slight kick of his foot and I run over to the right side of him.
Right as I set my feet, he approves the snap and the ball flies back to him.
I take off, hitting a gap in the line before shooting out to the end zone.
No one is chasing me and the safety for the opposing team ran too far in.
But I feel him getting closer as he reroutes and I time the moment I have to turn for the ball.
I hit the two-yard line and swivel, seeing that the ball is falling right into position so I jump up and catch it beautifully between my gloved hands.
I feel my feet hit the ground right as I get hit in my gut, and I can feel the pressure as my back hits first and then my head.
And for a second, I worry that it wasn’t enough, that I didn’t make it in.
The ringing in my ears causes me to blink hard, trying to focus and when I right myself, I can see the design of the end zone underneath me and the sound of Harper High explodes into cheers.
I jump up and see my team running straight for me and that’s when I know . . . we fucking won!
High fives are thrown around. Brayden is jumping up and down in excitement. And while I’m eager to celebrate this win with the guys, I can only find myself doing one thing.
I look out, and it takes me no more than a second to find her eyes amongst the sea of people clapping and cheering.
And to my surprise, she’s already looking down at me.
I catch her grin, a shy gesture that she ducks her head to keep hidden.
She’s clapping her hands while her friends are jumping around next to her, and only when one of the guys slap me on my helmet do I permit myself to look away.
We all head out into the center field to shake hands and then we run off into the locker room.
I love the victory. I’m proud of the gameplay.
This game means everything to me and I can’t see my life without it.
But the more and more I pull attention to the one forbidden aspect of my life, the more I’m realizing that I truly only have football to be excited for, to look forward to.
What if I want more?
I head back into the locker room with the guys and we all start tearing the gear off our bodies as Coach comes in to talk up the win.
"Good fucking play fellas," he says to us as the guys clap.
"But that was far too close for comfort and we cannot be letting mediocre teams like the Panthers think that they have a chance to win.
And that sack, not okay. If you boys aren't going to be doing your job by blocking for Brayden, then I'll start moving guys to the sidelines.
That ball was going in if you would have protected him. "
The whole team focuses on the coach's words, knowing that what he's saying holds truth.
And even though a lot of it doesn't truly apply to me, I know that this team needs to buckle down and not make these rookie mistakes because if it continues, the scouts won't see the appeal to come to games and right now, I'm starting to feel like that is going to be my only option to get into college.
“Zach,” Coach says my name and I turn my head in his direction. “You did good out there, but you didn’t perform your best. Some of you are performing at a barely-almost level and I need you all to be on the this-is-my-fucking-play level. Got it?” He nods his head at me, and I nod back
His words should be encouraging, I get it’s his job to light the fire under us all but I feel defeated.
I play my heart out every single game. But the realization hits that if he can see something in me not being the best we all know I can be, then that likely means everyone else sees it too. But why can’t I see it?
"But good win, everyone. Bring it in." Coach waves Bray over. "Take us out."
I join the huddle with everyone else and we all throw our hands in, Brayden wrapping his arm around my shoulder as he begins to chant.
"Timber Wolves on three. One. Two, Three.
" And then the whole team joins in as we shout the team name. Everyone cheers and celebrates as we head back to our lockers and while the guys all join in on weekend chatter, something pulls my attention. I see that my phone has six unread texts and they’re all from the same person.
Cadence.
I check my surroundings to make sure no one is paying attention to me, and that Brayden is nowhere near, before I lower the brightness of my screen and open the texts.
“Holy shit,” I say out loud, but no one can hear me.
Cadence sent me the photos. The photos of her in the dresses.
I’m speechless as I sift through them, not sure where to look.
I mean, the girl has always been pretty.
Hell, the prettiest girl I’ve ever laid my eye on, but I’ve never seen her in anything like this.
It almost makes me feel jealous thinking about the fact that she’s going to be wearing one of these out in public.
This was a very bad idea, I think to myself as I rush to get my ass out of the locker room. Something tells me that this is the start to the part where I might actually get us in trouble if I keep this up, but something else is telling me that I don’t give a fuck.
But I know one thing is for sure and there’s no more denying it. I am definitely crushing hard on my best friend’s sister.