Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
SAVVY
“Savvy?” Elle shouts as if she’s trying to blow the entire inn down.
“I’m packing,” I yell back. Freaking Grey is demanding we return to his house today. I’m not sure why I agreed to it other than I know Riley is lurking around town, and Grey, the giant pain in the ass, makes me feel safe.
“Save it for later.” Her feet pound on the stairs as she runs up two flights to find me. She barrels through the door as though she’s top-heavy and can’t quite stop the forward motion. “We have to go.”
Spikes of panic flare to life. They start in my gut and find their way into my veins before spreading to every limb. “Is it—did Riley do something?”
“Oh,” she pulls up short. “Crap. No. Sorry. We have to get to Happiness U’s practice field, pronto. Madi and Clover are meeting us there.”
She tugs on my hand and manages to get me to my feet.
“Why? What’s going on?”
“Grey is working with the football team again but cut conditioning short today and demanded the boys teach him how to line dance.”
An image of his face when he learned about Cupid cowboy sears itself on my retinas.
“No. There’s no… Are you serious?”
“Yes!” She’s so gleeful her cheeks are painful to look at. She’ll be sore later from all that smiling. “Come on. They’re about to start, and we cannot miss this—I got a babysitter and everything.”
“How’d you even know?” I ask, allowing her to drag me to the hallway and down the stairs.
“Sage texted Madi.” She laughs. “But if Grey finds out, you didn’t hear that from me.”
“Oh my God. It’s payback for the time they spied on Sage when he was trying out for the team.”
“It totally is.” She claps her hands together. You’d think she was seeing the ocean for the first time with how excited she is.
“If we get caught, Grey will be pissed.”
“Mm-hmm,” she hums. “Come on. Hurry up.”
We race out of the inn to her idling car. If Grey is seriously learning how to line dance, this is an opportunity I can’t pass up.
Ten minutes later, we’re parked on the far side of the football field and tiptoeing along the fence that will lead us to a break in the chain link and straight to the bleachers while Cole Swindel plays through the loudspeaker.
“Where are Madi and Clover?” I whisper.
Elle points to the backside of the bleachers, and sure enough, Madi, Clover, and Braxton are belly-down in the dirt, spying on something.
This is going to be a disaster, I can feel it.
With the entire team facing the visitors’ goalpost, we’re able to slide under the bleachers without being seen, but the idea of dropping to my belly where there’s 100 percent certainty that beer is the number one ingredient in the dirt is not something I’m super excited to do.
“Get down here,” Madi whispers. She tugs on my hand, and I drop to my knees.
The amount of germs and DNA under here is enough to make me dry heave.
“Look,” Clover whispers on Madi’s other side. At least she was smart and brought a blanket to sit on.
I don’t get as close as them because the last thing I want to do is lie face down in someone’s backwash, but I’m close enough to peer out between the metal slats.
I track line after line of white football pants before I finally land on a pair of gray slacks.
Greyson Reyes has never followed the rules. Not when Coach B. coerced him into helping out with the quarterbacks, not when the assistant coach roped him into working on special teams, and not now, when the boys should be running and pushing sleds across the field.
Instead, Grey stands in gray suit pants that cost more than my monthly mortgage and a white undershirt that clings to every muscle.
Ethan, a local kid and starting lineman, stands in front of them all, counting the beat like a maestro while demonstrating each move.
And holy hell. I think we just found the one thing Greyson Reyes isn’t the master of—the man has two left feet.
The team sways to the right, but Grey slides left and slams into a running back.
Then the team twirls with two stomps while Grey swings the wrong way and gets his foot clobbered by our center.
“Ow,” Braxton moans with sympathy pains. “That had to hurt.”
“H—how is he so bad at this?” My wide-eyed gaze can’t break away from poor Grey, who’s clearly agitated but refusing to give up.
“They’ve already been at it for an hour,” Clover whispers.
Five rows of football players move forward. The center lineman scoops up Grey so he doesn’t knock him over because Grey is the only one moving backward.
The snickers from under the bleachers grow louder, and although I’m smiling, I don’t like anyone else making fun of him.
“Shh.” I feel all eyes on me, but I don’t give them my attention.
Poor Grey.
Ethan blows a whistle, and all the football players look to Grey, presumably to see what he’ll do next. Grey is known for requiring perfection, and on more than one occasion has made the entire team run many miles after a less-than-stellar performance.
“Okay, let’s try this a different way.” Ethan is a giant kid, and his voice booms across the field. “Ever seen the movie Dirty Dancing?”
Braxton rolls over and bites his arm to keep from howling.
Greyson must voice some kind of opinion because the players around him all take a step back.
“Well, do you want to figure this out or not?” Ethan fires back.
“Uncle Grey,” Sage says, pushing his way to the front.
“Coach,” Greyson demands like an asshole.
“Coach.” Sage’s smirk could light up the entire town on Christmas morning. “You’re the king of unorthodox methods, and you’re running out of time to figure this out. I’ve been to the Firefly with Ethan. He’s the best line dancer we’ve got.”
“How are you getting into Firefly? You’re only eighteen.” Of course that’s what Grey would focus on.
“Wednesday and Sunday are eighteen and over. Now focus, please?” Sage is loving this a little too much.
“Fine.” That word holds all his frustration. “What do you suggest? But keep in mind, Ethan, if you make a fool out of me, you’ll be running doubles during hell week.”
I’m pretty sure Ethan rolls his eyes. At least, I would’ve.
“Here.” Madi nudges my leg, and I glance down to find her offering me a tiny pair of binoculars.
“Where the hell did these come from?”
“They come in handy around here, so now I keep a pair in my car.” She shrugs as if it’s normal.
It’s not normal, but since I really want to see Grey’s face, I don’t say anything. It takes me a moment to bring his features into focus, but when I do, I gasp.
“See?” Madi says smugly.
Determination lines Grey’s face—his bright red and slightly angry face—while Ethan stands facing him. Behind him, Trevon places his hands on Grey’s hips—his movements slow and jerky, as if he’s waiting for Grey to lash out at him.
“They’re not—”
“Remaking the dance tutorial scene?” Madi is gasping for air. “They are. They really, really are.”
“Okay,” Ethan says over the music. “Tre is going to make sure your body moves in step with mine. Relax, Coach. If you’re all tight, you’ll never move correctly.”
“Just do it.” I can almost feel the rumble of Grey’s words.
“No. Way.” Clover gasps while Braxton slides his phone into position to record.
I lean over and snatch his phone away.
“Hey.” Brax stares at me, and whatever he sees has him holding up his hands in surrender. “This is gold. I’ll never get this type of chance again. You don’t understand. Grey doesn’t make a fool of himself. Ever.”
I slip his phone into my back pocket.
“Anyone else want to try me?” I whisper-yell.
Madi, Clover, and Elle all shake their heads but give me shit-eating grins, and I return my attention to Grey.
Oh. My. God. Trevon is moving Grey’s body with his own. When they step forward, Trevon uses his left leg to push Grey’s left leg forward. When they slide to the right, he moves Grey with his hands that are still on his hips.
They make it through four rounds before Grey finally starts to catch on, and Trevon gives him a little more space.
By the time they’ve done the same four moves thirty-six times, Grey has almost got it.
When the next song comes on, Ethan instructs all the guys to get back in line and start over.
Grey immediately bumbles and stumbles through every move.
Oh, Grey.
“Fuck.” Grey curses before kicking at the ground. “Go again.” He makes a circular motion with his pointer finger, and everyone awkwardly steps back into lines.
He misses the second step, and Trevon slides in behind him again.
“Why is he putting himself through this humiliation?” I mutter. “It’s so hard to watch.”
“I thought you knew Grey better than that, Sav.” Braxton’s tone catches me off guard, but when I look at him, a giant lump forms in my throat. “He’d do anything and everything for those he loves. He’s doing this for you.”
His words blow me over, literally. My ass hits the dirt so fast I can’t catch myself, and my foot shoots upward, kicking him in the chin.
Braxton howls, and chaos ensues.
Madi rolls over my legs to check on Braxton.
Elle tugs on my shoulders to pull me into a sitting position, which only results in me whacking my head on a metal support beam.
Clover jumps at the sound of my head meeting metal, and her limbs tangle with mine until Clover, Elle, and I are flailing like the arms of an octopus, but no one is in control of our extremities.
“What the hell are you doing?” Grey’s voice rattles around in my brain.
It must hit the others too because we all freeze.
Laughter drowns out any thoughts I might be trying to formulate.
“Have we got to give you kids a name now?” Coach B. asks from somewhere behind me. “Y’all obviously didn’t learn your lesson the last time I caught y’all under here.”
“How about the Bleacher Creatures,” someone suggests, and I groan.
Grey is going to be so pissed.
“Pigskin Peepers.” Oh, God. The whole team is getting in on this.
“The Sideline Sleuths.”