Lavender and Linebackers (Tampa Tarpons Football #3)

Prologue

Alice

“Can you believe graduation is this weekend?” I ask Ryder, reaching into my backpack and pulling out a bottle of bug spray.

He lets out the deepest of sighs. “Yes, I’m so ready. If I never have to hear about limits, derivatives, and integrals again, it’ll be way too soon.”

I can’t help but laugh. Ryder has always hated math, even though he’s very good at it.

Knowing we were going to be sitting outside, I should have worn leggings or something that covers my skin more, but I felt like being a little bold, so I’m wearing the shortest denim shorts I own.

I spray bug repellent on my arms and legs, and catch him discreetly watching me out of the corner of his eye.

My heart jumps. This has to be a good thing, right?

I offer him the spray, which he declines, then toss it to the side, and settle in next to him.

We’re sitting in the bed of his truck. His back is against the truck cab, and his legs are stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. I mimic him and do the same.

Ryder picked me up after leaving the school gym.

It’s just after dinnertime, and he’s still in workout clothes.

Workout clothes that always look ridiculously good on him, with his T-shirt form-fitting to his chest and arms, his shorts leaving little to the imagination, and he’s completed the look with a familiar pair of ratty old sneakers.

And when I say ratty, there are holes in them, but it doesn’t matter. He refuses to get rid of them.

But that’s Ryder for you. He’s not flashy.

He doesn’t crave the latest trends like most of his friends do, and he hangs on to things that are sentimental to him.

My mom once described him as an old soul, and it fits him perfectly.

He’s grounded, observant, and thoughtful.

And I bought these shoes a year and a half ago when the first college recruiter came to speak to him.

He got an offer on the spot, since then, these have been his good-luck shoes. He always wears them.

“Come on.” I bump his shoulder with mine. “Mrs. Ide’s classes weren’t that bad, and you said it yourself. You aced that final.” I grin at him, whereas he gives me another side-eye and frowns.

“Speak for yourself. I only aced it because you forced me to study and do problem after problem over and over. That old bat had it out for me, and you know it.”

“She did not!”

“Sure, whatever you say . . .”

Leaning forward, he pops open the lid to a cooler and pulls out two purple Gatorades, my favorite flavor.

After handing me one, I watch as he chugs a third of the bottle in one go and then licks his lips.

Lips I’ve spent way too much time wondering what they would feel like on mine.

Around us, the cicadas in the oak trees begin their late afternoon song, and in front of us, a single Jet Ski zips by, speeding down the middle of the lake.

Since the day Ryder bought this truck, our spot has been here under the oak trees, parked at a lake access point that no one seems to go to near his old house.

We’ve spent hours and hours in the back of this truck doing homework, talking about our futures, playing games, having picnics, and napping.

In a way, this truck feels as much like my home as my actual house does.

But then again, maybe it’s just being with him.

With him.

My heart sinks as I think about all the change coming.

For the first time in seven years, what feels like most of my life, even though I know it’s not, Ryder and I will be apart.

Next week, he’s going to one college, and I’ll soon be heading to another.

He’s going out of state on a football scholarship, whereas I’m staying in state because I accepted, and then tried out and made the cheerleading team.

“Are you nervous to leave Tampa?” I ask, when what I really want to know is if he’s nervous to leave me like I’m nervous to leave him.

He shifts to look at me better. “Not really. Clemson is a great school. I feel good when I’m there.

I committed so long ago, it feels as if it’s taking forever to get here.

I’m ready. I’m ready for the next level, I’m ready to play on a new team, and I’m ready to get settled in and started.

What about you?” he asks, his brows pulling down.

We’ve talked about this next chapter for both of us so much already.

He must be wondering why I’m asking again.

“I guess I’m ready. I don’t feel like I’m leaving Tampa. Gainesville is two hours away, I can come back whenever I want, and besides, I know a lot of people who will be there.”

“That is one advantage you have that I won’t. But your school is only six and a half hours from mine, which doesn’t feel too bad. It’s not close, but it’s not too far either. And you did promise to come visit me.” He smiles, one side of his mouth curling up higher than the other.

“And you promised to visit me too.” I smile back.

“I did.”

His gaze lingers on mine, and my stomach dips with such a deep, unrequited love. We’ve been best friends for seven years. Inseparable. How can this love be one-sided?

I break the connection to take a sip of the Gatorade.

Even though it’s only May, the summer air has officially set in.

The humid days are miserable, but the nights are still mostly mild, with the sun staying up later and later.

Late nights with Ryder have always been my favorite.

We’ve never seen a sunrise together, but we’ve watched more sunsets than I can count.

From sitting here in our park next to the lake, to spring break on Clearwater Beach, and to Friday nights under the lights, no way will I ever look at a sunset and not think of him, of us.

“What do you think our future looks like?” he asks, surprising me. He said “our.” Does he mean as individuals or us together? I would give anything for him to mean together.

“I’m not sure. We’ve spent so much time preparing for college that I haven’t thought much past it.” I put the Gatorade down and pull my legs up so I can wrap my arms around them.

“So, no vision board about where you see yourself in five years?” he teases, bumping his shoulder against mine.

I want to tell him that I do have a vision, that it’s him and me for forever, but we’ve never crossed that line. He’s never given me any indication that he wants a future with me, at least not in the way that I want one with him.

“Not necessarily. I mean, I have big-picture scenarios, but doesn’t everyone?

Like, I love this lake. How cool would it be to have a house here, and I want to have a garden with lavender plants, but really everything is kind of fuzzy in a way that nothing is solidified.

Maybe just a dream of what I want my life to look like. What about you?”

He picks up one hand and runs it through his hair. Hair that I know is thick and soft from the few instances I’ve teased him and messed it up over the years. He bends one leg and then drapes that arm over it.

“Obviously, I want to play in the NFL. That’s always been my dream. You know I love football. As long as I can play, that’s what I want to do.”

I want to tell him that for years he’s been my dream, but that feels silly when I think about how hard he’s worked for an actual future. He’s so focused and determined. How can I be anything but proud of that?

“Well then, it’s only fitting that wherever you are, I’ll be standing on the sideline cheering, too. You know, I’ve always thought I’d be a professional cheerleader and try out for the Tampa Tarpons, but it doesn’t matter where. I guess it’s dependent on you.”

“Al, I want you to go after what you want. If you see yourself as a Tarpon, then that’s where you should be. Who knows where I might end up. Could be San Francisco."

“Really, the team doesn’t matter. If we want the same thing, can’t we do it together?” I turn my head so I can lay it on my knees and watch him too.

He doesn’t realize that I couldn’t care less about the team. All I want is to cheer for him. Anywhere. Anytime.

He looks over at me again, his deep brown eyes scanning my face before they lock onto mine. Butterflies take flight, flapping their wings as they rise and dive. This boy has no idea of the effect he has on me or what he means to me.

“I guess we can.”

“You are my best friend,” I tell him, just over a whisper. I know he hears me when the muscles in his face shift and relax just a tiny bit.

Answering me like he always does, my heart trips and falls a little bit more when he says, “And you are mine.”