The Cheerleader

Chapter Seven

Bryan

I grunt on impact. “Fuck.”

Holding the football to my chest, I barely make it to the sidelines with Mack Delaney diving after me. As he hits me, I crash into a couple of cheerleaders, then roll to a stop as they scatter. Fuck. I manage to keep that one under my breath as the girls’ shouts and screeches hit my ears.

“Sorry. You okay?”

Mack asks. He’s already on his feet because I cushioned the bastard’s fall. But he’s not talking to me.

Hefting myself off the ground, I frown. Coach Torino blows the whistle and sends some freshmen in for a rep in our places.

A couple of girls giggle as they reassure Mack that they're fine. They're all smiles. Eldridge comes off the field and heads for us instead of going to the bench. As I'm about to head back, he stops me.

“You ladies okay?“ he asks. Here we go. “Sorry about the throw. I didn’t mean to aim it so close to where you’re…”

He waves his hand like he’s not sure what they’re doing.

One of the girls, the new girl who was with Liz last night, says, “Practicing.”

I swear she looks familiar, like I know her from somewhere else, from before, but she wasn’t on the squad last year. I would know. You can’t spend any time with Liz McNeil and not know everything about the UConn cheerleaders whether you want to or not.

“What’s that contraption for?”

Eldy points to the mini tramp.

Mack laughs and takes off, heading for the bench. I should follow him, but I feel obligated to stick with Eldy, so I stand rooted to the spot even though I’m dying of thirst.

“It’s a mini tramp,”

I say. My parched voice sounds gruff, not that it matters. I turn to the new girl. “You should move it down toward the defensive end zone to stay out of the way.”

She gives me a surprised look.

“What my charming friend means,“ Eldy says, ”is that he’s concerned for your safety.”

He grins at her while a few other cheerleaders stand and watch. I glance over to see Liz with a couple of the guys, all business, working on a stunt.

“I’m Dane Eldridge, quarterback. This grump is Bryan.”

He tilts his head in my direction, and I frown to confirm his grump comment. “And you are?”

“Susie Bennett. Nice to meet you, Dane.”

She’s aiming her pretty face at Eldy and looking at him like he’s an interesting artifact. Susie Bennett… I swear I know her from somewhere besides UConn. She glances at me. “It’s nice to meet both of you.”

I’m glad she doesn’t mention our meeting last night. I’d just as soon keep that late-night visit quiet, especially from Eldy.

I grunt and push Eldy in the direction of the bench where we belong. He winks at Susie and says under his breath, “See you tonight at Husky’s,”

as if she’s a lip reader.

“Good luck with that,”

I mutter. For some reason, I don’t think she’s his type. She seems too serious.

“Did you hear that?”

Judy says loud enough for us all to hear. “The team’s lady killer wants to see you tonight at Huskies. Are you going to meet him?”

I want to shout at the ridiculous girl we’re right here, but I turn away, not wanting to listen anymore.

“Do you read lips or something?”

I hear Susie say in spite of myself as we walk away.

When Liz laughs, I don’t turn around and try not to start running. She says loudly, “We’ll all go. We deserve pizza tonight.”

Eldy grins at me, and I smack his head.

“You’re just jealous,” he says.

“Of what exactly?”

I say in my disinterested monotone to annoy him.

“Because the Great Dane has scored again.”

“You’re getting ahead of yourself, Eldy,”

I say. He may be known as Dane to all the girls on campus, but I can’t call him that without thinking of Scooby Doo, a Great Dane cartoon dog, or worse, some Nordic prince—which he’s not. The rest of the team, for whatever reason, followed my cue when I started calling him Eldy, and now he has to live with the nickname in the locker room. And everywhere else when I’m around.

He elbows me in my pads, but I feel it and squash the urge to wince at the sharp pain. The bruising on my ribs underneath the pads could be a fracture. I don’t know for sure because I declined the team doc’s suggestion to get an X-ray.

“Didn’t you hear Liz?”

he says, oblivious as usual, in his own self-absorbed world. “We’re on for Huskies tonight with the cheerleaders.”

“I’m not deaf.”

I put my helmet on the bench, glad to be away from the mini tramp, the cheerleaders, and their incessant talking and giggling. Liz is the only person on the squad I know or care to know.

With the possible exception of Susie Bennett because I can't get rid of the idea that I know her from some fucking place.

Not that it matters.

Dane follows me, his helmet still on his head. “You have to come out with us to Huskies tonight.”

“Are you going to bug me to go out every night until I do?”

He grins and nods. “I know you want to. Pizza?—”

“Fuck you.”

In truth, I like the food at Huskies enough to tolerate a short stint of giggling girls for it—not that I make a steady diet of pizza. I’m working on staying lean, and I’ve noticed too much pizza doesn’t work for that.

He slaps my back. “Don’t worry. The girls will leave you alone. I’ll grab all the attention. Except for Liz, of course.”

“You can have her attention too. She’s not mine. I told you we’re not a thing. We broke up last winter.”

“Are you sure? Because I heard her stop by last night?—”

I whip my head around and look at him as we reach the water barrel. Grabbing a cup, I look away and get some water, which I pour half in my mouth and half over my head.

“It was nothing. She was drunk. She didn’t stay.”

“I know.”

He pauses, and I can feel him watching me.

“What?”

I grumble, waiting for his usual accusation.

“You need to get over her, man. Move on. Try someone new?—”

“Nothing to get over, and I don’t need anyone new. Haven’t you been listening? This is our year, Eldy. We’re going to win the conference.”

He laughs. “And you’re going to get a fat NFL contract.”

I frown and raise my hand to scratch my face, disguising the middle finger I give him. Coach is a stickler about sportsmanship and team unity, and he’s called me out on my so-called lewdness before.

Eldy leans in, his smile gone. “I hear there’ll be scouts at the Navy game.”

I scoff. “You’re listening to gossip again.”

I shake my head. I’d heard the same thing from a local reporter—Hartford guy, not one from here in Storrs—and not unreliable. Still, I’ll believe it when I see it.

“None of that shit matters,”

I say. “I’m going to stay focused on training and the game and improving my speed.”

I stare him down in challenge.

“Don’t give me that look. I train hard.”

My smirk escapes because I know he puts in his time. Not as much as I do, but I know I’m an unusually driven bastard. I shake my head. I have no choice. I was born this way. At least that’s what my mother says, and that I get it from my dad. Hard work and a charming personality is all from him, she always tells me. She’s kidding about Dad being a charmer. He’s a man of few words and fewer smiles, and although I’m okay with that—most of the time.

The guys on the field finish the drill. It’s our turn again.

Eldy turns to me, as serious as he gets. “So you put in extra time with the weights for speed?”

He’s asking my advice because he’s a competitive fucker. I admire that about him. He may joke, but he doesn’t like being outdone by me, not even in the hard work department—the only one where I outshine him, in my opinion.

“No,”

I lift my helmet to put the smelly thing back on my head. “The time with weights is so the defensive linemen will bounce off me when they try to take me down.”

He laughs. Coach Torino blows a whistle and motions for us to go back out there.

“Let’s see if they bounce off you today, Granger,”

my friend says as we trot onto the field.

“You just pay attention to the pass off, and I’ll do the rest.”

I can already taste the salty sweat on my lips as we line up under the relentless afternoon sun.

We line up with Eldy under center. I’m on the line as if I’m going to run out for a short pass or block for Lenny Dobbins, our wide receiver, to my right.

Eldy calls out the play, and we all know what it is, including the defense. It’s a run play where Eldy drops back, fakes the pass, and tosses the ball off to me. The sequence requires the line to hold up the defense and split-second timing on the toss. It requires me to catch the short toss as I step back and then take off through the gap the right guard and tight end are supposed to open up.

“Sixteen-twenty-four-ready-set-hut,”

Eldy shouts.

The center snaps the ball, and we all move, including the big beefy defensive lineman—right at me.

But I’m quicker because my life depends on it, or at least the health of my limbs, not to mention my ribs. I’m first off the line and move past the lineman, whose beef makes him a fraction of a second slower than me, and that’s all I need.

The inside linebacker is another matter. He’s leaner and faster and coming at me, diving for my knees. I jump over the linebacker like a champion hurdler. When my feet hit the ground, I turn the switch on and flat-out sprint for the end zone.

Twenty yards out, I see in my peripheral vision our fastest safety, Fletcher, chasing me down. I know he’s going to catch me before I get to the end zone in spite of me willing my legs to churn faster.

Preparing for impact, I squeeze the football almost hard enough to burst it. When Fletcher’s close, I turn away from him to protect the ball as he flies at me from two o’clock. I dive forward in an automatic move to gain extra yards as we collide.

“Where do you think you’re going, Granger?”

Fletcher says as he rolls over me and pops up to a stand. He has a nasty grin on his face and his hands on his hips as he towers over me, blocking the sun from my eyes. He doesn’t bother to extend a hand to help me up from where I lie flat on my back, still clutching the ball.

Catching my breath, I grin up at him. “Thanks for blocking the sun while I rest a minute.”

I’m not one to back down from challenge. It’s always best to taunt a taunter, even when it’s my own teammate, though I’m smart enough to keep my voice low so that only he can hear me.

He doesn’t say a thing as I stare up at him, wondering what the fuck his problem is before I remember I don’t care.

Mack Delaney, the linebacker I used as a hurdle, trots up, winded and laughing. “You shitting me, Granger? You fucking hurdled me. You practicing with the track team in the off-season? That was crazy.”

He stretches out a hand, and I take it, pulling myself off the grass.

Suppressing a grunt, I think I manage to hide the fact that my ribs are on fire behind my normal badass game face.

“You practice that expression in the mirror?”

Fletcher says.

I don’t bother acknowledging his wiseass comment. He’s already gotten as much attention from me as he’s getting. Trotting back to the line, I ignore the pain, telling myself it’s just another in a long line of bruises.

The heat reaches some ungodly high at about four p.m. I hand a cup of water to Mack, who’s just finished losing his lunch. He grunts his thanks and rinses his mouth. A few other guys are retching on the sidelines, including Fletcher. Scooping another cup of water, I hand it to him when he approaches. He takes it without looking at me and turns away.

He has a right to be embarrassed, so I don’t fault him for not thanking me.

“How’d you manage to keep your lunch?”

Al Preconi, the athletic trainer, comes to my side, shaking his head as he glances over at the fallen warriors.

I shrug. I’d bet my iron stomach that Al’s the one who told Coach to call practice.

“Never mind. I know it’s your ridiculous training regimen that’s saving you from heat stroke right now.”

I notice the admiration in his voice and nod.

“Could be.”

More likely it’s the ridiculous farm work regimen that does it, but the less said about the farm, the better.

He laughs. A whistle blows down at the end of the field. The cheerleaders are sitting on the grass in the shade and then slowly rising to their feet. My eyes automatically find Liz, which isn’t hard since she’s the one with the whistle.

My gaze turns to Susie, and I watch her stretch her long limbs like she’s a ballerina. Those short shorts she’s wearing don’t cover much.

Al nudges my arm. “Not bad. Who’s the new girl, the tall one with the long dark hair?”

He asks me like I should know—which I do because he’s looking at Susie. And why wouldn’t he be? She’s easily the prettiest girl on the squad.

“How would I know?”

He laughs. “You want to play it cool? That’s fine. It’s not like I’m doing more than looking myself.”

He raises his left hand and wiggles his fingers. “Got married over the summer.”

He grins like he’s happy.

For once, I don’t bother hiding my reaction as my eyes widen in surprise. I blow out a whistle. “That beats the hell out of my summer. Congratulations—I guess.”

He shakes his head, smirking.

“No wonder you’ve been in a good mood. You’re a fucking newlywed.”

He gives me the finger. “You’re lucky I like you, Granger.”

“Liar.”

He chuckles. “Let’s get you inside and take care of those ribs.”

Trying hard not to grimace, I follow him across the turf back to the fieldhouse. It aggravates me that he knows my ribs need attention. I head first to the locker room and shed my practice pads fast. I drop the sweat-soaked uniform and pads at the cage with the equipment manager and make it into the training room ahead of everyone except Eldy.

He jumps into the whirlpool tub and closes his eyes like he’s going to take a nap. I don’t get why he likes it. The big metal tub is about as comfortable as a watering trough—and looks a lot like one—and the hot churning water offers no relief on a steamy day.

Al has me lift my arms, and I manage not to flinch as he taps my ribs. He shakes his head as he examines the large dark purple bruise on my left side.

“Let’s get some ice on that.”

He goes to the chest freezer and pulls out a couple of packs of ice and proceeds to ace bandage them against my ribs with no concern for how fucking cold they are next to my skin.

“Shouldn’t we put a towel under the ice so I don’t end up with frostbite?”

I say in between my gritted teeth.

“Sure, but if you ask me, what you really need is an X-ray because I think one or two of these ribs could be fractured.”

“He’s right, you know,”

Eldy pipes up.

“What good is an X-ray?”

I say under my breath. “It’s not going to magically cure a cracked rib.”

That comment shuts down the conversation, and Al removes the ice and puts a layer of gauze against my skin before replacing the ice and bandaging my rib cage.

I glance at the door to the locker room across the hall to make sure no one’s paying attention. They’re not. They all have their own bumps and bruises and worse to deal with.

There’s not a single fucking guy in the locker room who doesn’t have something wrong. Not even the field goal kicker is exempt from injury. I bet he’s sorry he came over from the soccer team to try out. Because I’m a mean bastard—I get that from my dad too—I grin on the inside.

Eldy gets away with parking his new Cutlass Supreme coupe right out front of the field house in a spot that’s supposed to be reserved for coaches. Shaking my head, I’d say I don’t know how he gets away with it, but he’s the QB, and even though UConn’s football program isn’t much in the scheme of things, Coach Torino, who has more ambition than sense, likes him.

“I ride shotgun.”

It should be unnecessary to stake my claim every time, but Mack, and especially Chuck Wayne, need the reminder to cool their competitive asses.

Chuck Wayne and Mack Delaney, our third and fourth roommates, get stuck sitting in the back of Eldy’s car.

“New ride?”

Chuck says. “I dig it.”

He runs his hand over the white leather passenger seat as he pushes it forward and climbs in the back.

“Hey, watch the fingerprints,”

Eldy says with irritation in his voice.

“Don’t blame him for your stupidity,”

I say. “Who gets white seats with a red dashboard?”

“I had no choice. I wanted the white exterior with the red landau roof.”

I level a quick stare at him so he gets what I think of his priorities, then push the seat back to let Mack and Wayne squeeze into the back seat. Then I slide into my spot up front.

“It’s a cool car, Eldy,”

Mack says. “Don’t let Granger bully you.”

Eldy snorts. “Way too late to worry about that.”

I cut my eyes to meet Mack’s in the rearview. He grins back at me, and I turn away because, I need to remind myself, it’s all harmless shit. They don’t really think I’m a bully. And if they do, fuck them. It doesn’t matter. Because either way, they respect me, and that’s what matters most.

According to Dad’s words of wisdom—which have been few and far between, so when he speaks up, I pay attention—respect is the most important thing, beginning with self-respect. He’s always had my respect in spite of being a hardass and in spite of our current rift. Not because he’s my dad. I don’t give automatic respect to anyone just because they’re in charge.

People need to prove themselves to me. That’s gotten me in some trouble over the years, but I’ve learned to keep my lack of esteem for those in authority to myself. My old man has my respect because he works harder than anyone I know, even harder than me, though I can sense the tables being turned soon. He’s aging fast now.

He’s the reason I need to prove myself every single day. He matters, though not as much lately. I can feel myself pulling away, feel him pushing. And neither of us can do a thing about it.

To me, earning respect means no playing games. No lies. Always upfront and straightforward. If that means I’m blunt—or seen as a bully—then tough fucking shit. It’s the reason I’m not popular on the team. Or anywhere.

“I originally wanted the T-top, but even Dad’s generosity has its limits,”

Eldy admits without shame.

I shake my head, sink into the unnecessarily plush seat, and close my eyes. Eldy starts the car and pulls out of the lot.

“So what’s the deal about going to Huskies for pizza?”

Chuck asks. I can feel him leaning forward behind me.

“We’re meeting the cheerleaders.”

I can hear the grin in Eldy’s voice. He’s incorrigible.

Mack blows out a whistle. “Leave it to you to set us up?—”

“No one’s getting set up,”

I say. My voice is sharp, and my eyes are still closed, but I can feel them all staring at me in the beat of silence that follows.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

Eldy breaks the silence. “We’re only out to have some innocent fun, flirt a little, and then… you never know. We’ll let things happen naturally?—”

“Nothing is going to happen. The cheerleaders are off-limits.”

I’m making that up, but I’m pretty sure Coach and the athletic director would side with me on this if push came to shove—metaphorically speaking. Though you never know. I may have to do some pushing and shoving with my teammates, and I’m definitely up for it.

They all snort and swear at me.

“Who made you fucking boss?”

“Since when did you turn into a monk?”

“You’re fucking kidding, right?”

I ignore them all, and they continue their self-righteous complaints liberally peppered with insults and profanity aimed at me. I could almost fall asleep to the tirade like it’s a lullaby. I’ve had practice all my life, though Dad isn’t as colorful as my friends.

We grind to a halt, and Eldy revs the engine before shutting it down. I open my eyes to find him staring at me.

“Something wrong with you?”

I think he’s serious, and I’m almost touched.

“No. But this is an important year for the team. We can win the conference. None of us can afford to mess up.”

I look at each of them, turning to stare at Mac and Chuck to make sure I’m getting my point across and gauge whether or not they need more convincing.

“You’re right,”

Eldy says, “but that doesn’t mean we need to be monks.”

“No, it doesn’t,”

I agree reasonably. His tension dispels, and he grins, and I can see his head spinning back to the idea of scoring tonight with at least one cheerleader—and I know which one he has in mind.

“But you would be a fucking idiot to fuck around with a cheerleader. They’re part of the team; we need to respect them and treat them like teammates, take care of them.”

“You’re crazy—and you’re a fucking hypocrite.”

Eldy’s voice is loud, bordering on belligerent, and I know where he’s going with this. He’s talking about my short-lived girlfriend-boyfriend relationship with Liz.

“There’s a difference between fooling around for a night and having a relationship with a girl. Are you planning to have a legitimate relationship with one of the girls?”

That shuts him up, and they all contemplate my words for a second. “A lot can go wrong if you’re fooling around with girls you shouldn’t be fooling around with. Take it from me. Learn from my mistake.”

“Shit. Should we start calling you Father Granger now?”

Eldy says as he opens his door.

“We need to focus, and the cheerleaders are a distraction,”

I add for good measure.

“You’re a real downer, you know that, man?”

Chuck says.

I wait for Mack to express his dissatisfaction as I close the car door behind him. He just looks at me and shakes his head.

We parade into the apartment. The ride was short because we’re in the complex with the distinction of being closest to campus. That and the fact that it’s the cheapest place around are the only positives about it.

The rooms are small and shabby. The living room, which I pass through in four strides across the universally scuffed floors, hasn’t been painted in twenty years. They’re the color of dirty bathtub water, and I’m pretty sure they were originally white.

I head into the kitchen, where half the cabinet doors are missing or unhinged, and start cleaning up. It’s my normal routine to do the dishes after practice. Sometimes Mack will wipe them and put them away. I squirt some dish liquid into the sink and turn on the water. Grabbing the sponge, I get to work.

I do my best thinking with my hands elbow-deep in dish suds—or back home at the water trough where we wash the dogs. But not today. Eldy leans against the counter next to me with his arms folded.

“I get your point, but it pisses me off. There aren’t any girls on campus who aren’t on some kind of athletic team. So what are we supposed to do?”

“Wait a fucking week?”

I tilt half my mouth in a derisive smirk.

He punches my shoulder—and it’s not one of those friendly punches. I suck in a breath and hold onto the dish in my hand, controlling my urge to drop it and punch him back.

“I’m still flirting. You can’t stop me from flirting. And maybe I will start up a relationship with a girl tonight.”

He gives me an evil leer.

“Suit yourself.”

He’s right. I really can’t stop him. “You realize you sound like a fourteen-year-old, don’t you?”

He flips me the finger. And then he grins. “Are you coming with us to Huskies?”

“Someone has to keep you out of trouble.”

He snorts. “Don’t do me any favors. And since when are you worried about trouble?”

My eyes are closed and I’m on top of my bed fully clothed in Levi's and a gray T-shirt, drifting off to sleep until Eldy bangs on my door and opens it without waiting for permission.

“Shit, Dane. What do you want?”

I keep my eyes closed and throw an arm across my face as if looking at Eldy will hurt.

“Time to go, Bry. You promised.”

“You sound like my kid sister.”

“You don’t have a kid sister.”

“That’s my point. You are my kid sister.”

He yanks on my leg and pulls me from the bed—or tries to. I stop him, jump up on one foot, and my forward momentum carries us until we slam into the door.

“All this because you’re desperate for me to go out? To a pizza?—”

“All this for you to avoid going to Huskies? What the fuck are you afraid of? You really did become a monk over the summer, didn’t you?”

I really did, but there’s no need to admit that to him. He pushes me away, and I flop back on my bed as he sits in my desk chair. “I’m worried about you, Granger. As a teammate and a friend.”

I laugh because I can’t help it, though he may have a point. He’s the only one who knows anything about my life at home.

“And you think going to Huskies tonight will solve my problems?”

“No. But you can let loose, forget about them for a while, and relieve your tension—if you know what I mean.”

I snort, and then I sit up because I can’t ignore his effort. “Going out to relieve my tension is just as likely to cause more problems than solve them. The only thing I can do is play the best damn football I’ve ever played and …”

I swipe a hand through my hair and stand. I’m not going to say out loud what we both know is wishful thinking.

“And what? Get the notice of an NFL scout?—”

“Don’t even say it. Whether a scout notices me or not is out of my control. All I can do is work hard. At football and school. And for that, I need a distraction-free life.”

“You’re not a machine, Granger, no matter how much your dear dad has convinced you that you?—”

“Leave him out of it. He’s not here.”

I take a deep shuddering breath because that’s a fucking lie. I carry my old man around with me in my head and in my bones. “I’m a machine because that’s who I am.”

“A farming machine or a football machine?”

He stands and faces me, his hands on his hips in a rare challenge. He usually soft-plays me, cajoling rather than challenging, and I don’t like this serious shit from him.

“It doesn’t matter what I do. I’m a machine all the same.”

“Except tonight.”

Getting up, I go to the door and put a hand on the doorknob, pulling it open because I’m letting him win this battle. “You’re wrong. Tonight I’ll be a pizza-eating machine.”

He laughs, and all the tension disappears. I don’t join his laughing, but I almost smile, feeling the unfamiliar lift to one side of my mouth.

Eldy leads the team into Huskies. It’s more than half empty, still waiting for the onslaught of students. I’m last to file inside, but Eldy saves me a seat next to him along the wall at the end. The guys shoved three tables together, and it’s more than enough to hold the group of us from the team, mostly offense, who still have enough energy to show up.

I bet if he’d told the guys he was buying, they’d have all showed up except the ones too hurt to move. Or maybe that’s my penniless-ass way of thinking.

The pitchers of beer arrive, and the volume of the dozen or so guys at the table rises with every glass poured. I mostly listen, draining my glass of water, while the mug of beer Eldy put in front of me remains full. I listen to the guys and conserve my energy while I wait for the pizza.

Something about being around a group of boisterous people zaps my energy, draining it from me like they’re a bunch of blood-sucking vampires. Or it could just be that I need more sleep.

The pizza finally arrives, and I occupy my mouth with eating rather than talking. But I still listen. Mack, who sits on the other side of me, is asking me something about the cheerleaders while I chew and nod.

“It would be cool if they showed up. There are no girls here.”

He looks around.

That’s when, as if he conjured them, the cheerleaders walk in—all dozen of them, eight girls and four guys. Liz is front and center, of course, holding Susie’s hand, which is odd, as she leads the lineup. Susie’s eyes meet mine immediately.

There’s something about her that affects me. It’s not that she’s beautiful—which she is in a very classic way with the kind of looks that would stop a Hollywood producer on the street—it’s something more than that. Something familiar about her, maybe her kind eyes.

Liz’s loud voice breaks my mesmerized state, and I look away, choosing at this moment to pick up my glass of beer and take a healthy gulp.

“Bryan, I’m surprised to see you here,”

Liz calls out, and I hate myself for wishing she didn’t see me here. Right now, I don’t want to deal with her throwing herself at me. I know if she drinks, that’s exactly what she’ll do. In private, I can handle it. But in public… I’d rather not have to.

Barely nodding at Liz as she weaves through the tables toward us, I lean toward Eldy and tell him in a low voice, “I’m going to take off early. This was a bad idea.”

He looks between me and Liz and nods, for once, getting it and not giving me shit.

“Look who’s here,”

Mack says, undisguised delight in his voice. “I was just telling the guys it would be great to see you all. Join us.”

He stands and starts grabbing chairs from nearby tables without asking and shoving them in between our chairs wherever he can squeeze them. Liz joins in the challenge and shoves a chair between me and Eldy and then another one on my other side. She surprises me when she practically pushes Susie into the seat between me and Eldy.

They’re bunched around us with the waitress behind them holding menus as she directs the busboy to slide another table together with ours. By the time everyone’s settled, we’ve taken over the place because it’s only so big.

Liz winks at me as she sits in the chair wedged in on my other side between me and Chuck.

“You’re not drinking this, are you?”

Liz lifts my half-full glass of beer, confident about my answer, and empties it in one quick chug, drawing the table’s attention. Typical Liz. Shit.

“I didn’t know you were a beer chugger,”

Susie says. I hear the disappointment in her voice even as she covers it with a smile.

“Liz is always up for a beer,”

Eldy says. “Work hard, play hard.”

He grabs an empty glass from the table and fills it from a fresh pitcher, placing it in front of Susie.

“For me? You shouldn’t have,”

she says, attempting playfulness when I can tell there’s no way she wants it.

“Of course I should. I’m a gentleman, and you’re a beautiful lady who worked hard all day and deserves a cold one.”

He pauses while she fingers the glass without exactly accepting it. He lowers his voice, but not enough so I can’t hear him. “Make that a goddamn fucking beautiful lady.”

I snort. He’s not much with vocabulary. I would have told her she was like a magnificent sculpture, breathtaking and untouchable with otherworldly beauty. But I keep my mouth zipped.

Liz laughs at Eldy, who’s half-glowering at me—because his good nature doesn’t allow for a full glower. “What’s wrong with that?”

He talks over Susie’s head, and I can see her trying to stifle her laugh.

“Nothing, Dane,”

she answers for me. “Thank you for the compliment.”

Susie puts a hand on his arm, and I wish to hell she hadn’t touched him. To her, it might be an innocent gesture, but to Eldy, it’s like a gold-plated invitation to—never mind. Mind your own business, Granger.

He flashes Susie his lady killer smile, and I roll my eyes, though I’d actually prefer to punch that smile off his face. I’m not sure why I’m so determined to protect Susie from him, but I most definitely fucking am.

“What’s your major, Dane?”

“I like that you call me Dane.”

She almost looks puzzled and shrugs. “You’re easy to please, aren’t you?”

She keeps playing with her glass, running her fingers up and down the sides with no intentions of drinking the beer and with no idea how sensually provocative the gesture is. And I keep watching, becoming mesmerized all over again.

Turning away toward Liz to distract myself, I find she’s engaged in a discussion about football with Chuck on the relative merits of fullbacks versus wide receivers. At least she’s paused her drinking. I slide a slice of pizza in front of her and hope she’ll eat it.

Grabbing another slice for myself, I back my chair away from the crowded table and wonder if I can get away with ordering a pizza to go and getting out of here.

When I see Eldy handing a slice to Susie, I know he’s serious about flirting. I also know he has a one-track mind, that flirting for him doesn’t end until the object of his flirtation ends up in his bed. He plays to win that game every single fucking time. Fuck.

He and Susie are talking with their heads huddled close, voices low enough so that I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I hear her laugh. The sound sends a zip of something like adrenaline skittering along my nerves, confusing me. I don’t know if I’m worried about Eldy taking her home or… feeling things I have no business feeling.

What makes her so special? Why do I feel this way about her? I’m no kind of romantic and don’t believe in the cliché love at first sight or Cupid’s arrow. That’s all bullshit.

When Eldy snakes an arm around the back of her chair, I reach over and grab it, tight.

Leaning in, I tell him in a low growl, “Stop it.”

Susie looks at me, surprised, and then she flushes, probably with embarrassment because I’m way out of line. Shit. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Eldy laughs, of course. “I thought you were off girls?”

I mouth fuck you behind Susie’s back before she turns to see my response, looking curious.

“You’re off girls?” she asks.

“Training. This is an important season for the team.”

Why the fuck am I explaining to her when I almost never feel compelled to explain myself? Except to people who matter.

Eldy returns his arm around her shoulders, stealing her attention back. “He means we have NFL scouts watching our team after our winning record last season, and some of us—the ones named Bryan Granger—could have a chance at the NFL draft.”

She shoots her head around to look at me, dislodging Eldy’s arm, thank god. “Is that right?”

I take her question as rhetorical.

“Never mind him. He’s a lost cause,”

Eldy says, turning her head, literally, to face him again. “On the other hand, I’m very much interested in girls.”

“I bet you are. I hear you’re the team’s star player—off the field.”

I like her sense of humor as she essentially shuts him down. Because even Eldy can see that she’s not into players.

Leaning in, I grab a fresh glass from the middle of the table and pour myself another beer like I’m getting ready to watch round two of the bout between Eldy and Susie. But before I finish pouring, Eldy blows out a loud whistle, getting everyone’s attention.

“Hell has just frozen over, guys. Bryan fucking Granger is having a second beer.”

He starts clapping. The guys join in with the clapping, adding whistles, shouts, and hoots of laughter like they’re celebrating my supposed lapse in self-discipline.

I flip Eldy my middle finger and don’t bother explaining to him that Liz drank half my first beer. I take a long sip as if I don’t care what he thinks. Because I don’t.

“I take it you don’t drink much?”

Susie shifts closer to me in her chair, sandwiched between me and Dane. I remain silent while the guys give me shit, raising their glasses and congratulating me like I’ve won the Heisman.

She watches me, apparently waiting for an answer.