37. Chapter 37
Cole
This obstacle course was amazing. We had to share it with the other sports teams at the school, but that was fine. That was part of the agreement for putting it here. I couldn’t believe Joanne had let us put it in this empty field.
It stretched across the grass and looked as if we were preparing for a low-budget action film. If the Marines ever needed tips on conditioning sixteen-year-olds who complained about hydration breaks every seven minutes, I was their guy.
Dax was always building something in his garage, and he’d helped me. It looked professional. Not that I was bragging, but yeah, maybe a little.
First station: tires. Not the cute little fitness ones people post about online. Tractor tires. The kind that made teenage boys reconsider every decision that had led them to football.
They’d been a trick to move. There were plenty of farmers in the area who had agreed to give them to us, but they were massive and not easy to deal with. Totally worth it now that they were all assembled.
“High knees!” I shouted, pacing the line like I had something to prove. “You step in the hole, you start over. This isn’t hopscotch, ladies!”
A sophomore clipped the edge of one and stumbled.
“Again!” I blew the whistle for emphasis, even though the whistle wasn’t technically necessary. It just added drama.
The second station was the low crawl. I’d strung netting between a row of stakes about eighteen inches off the ground.
It wasn’t mud underneath exactly, but the sprinklers had ‘malfunctioned’ earlier.
Tragic accident. No one could have predicted it.
Wet, soggy grass. That’s what we had. A few more minutes and it might be mud. I bet Joanne would love that.
“Stay low!” I yelled as one of my linemen attempted what can only be described as interpretive crawling. “You’re not auditioning for Animal Planet! Get your belly down! A little dirt never hurt anyone!”
He groaned like he’d just been asked to storm a beach. We’d save that for tomorrow.
Then came the wall. Six feet of padded intimidation. Some of the guys launched themselves over it like gazelles, but most approached it as if it were the end of their high school football careers.
“Commit!” I barked. “It’s foam! The worst thing that happens is you look silly—which, frankly, is already happening!”
One of my receivers hung there at the top for a solid ten seconds before flopping over. He’d made it, but it hadn’t looked impressive. I made a mental note to work on upper body strength. And dignity.
After that came the sandbag carry. Fifty pounds. Down and back. Quarterbacks always thought they were stronger than they were. I could say that confidently, as I’d played quarterback for a year.
“Ball security!” I hollered automatically.
It wasn’t a ball. It was a sandbag. But principles matter.
The quarterback made it halfway before his face went the color of a tomato.
“Breathe through it!” I called. “You’re not dying. You’re developing character!”
He did not look convinced.
The final stretch was the cone zigzag into a full sprint to the end zone. By this point they looked less like varsity athletes and more like exhausted baby giraffes discovering gravity for the first time. Legs everywhere. No coordination. A lot of dramatic sighing.
One kid actually whispered, “Tell my sister she can have my dog when I die,” as he passed me.
“Save it for fourth quarter,” I replied, checking my stopwatch.
I tried not to smile when I saw their times improving. I’d spent over an hour here running the course with my brothers last night. It made me feel good to know I could still beat any of these guys in a timed run of the course.
When everyone was finished, I smiled down at them. They had all collapsed onto the grass and were acting as if they’d just reached the peak of Mount Everest.
“Wasn’t that fun?” I asked.
Jackson groaned. “I’ve lost all feeling in my leg.”
I grinned. “Just wait until tomorrow. You’ll be wishing you couldn’t feel it when your muscles start acting up.”
Alyssa came over smiling. “I’ve been watching, and you guys are sorry.”
Jackson glared up at her. “We’ll get better.”
“Yes!” I said. “That’s what I want to hear.”
Alyssa looked at the course. “Looks easy.”
Harris snorted. “I’d like to see you try.”
Alyssa’s eyes lit up, and she pushed her sleeves up. “What’s the time to beat?”
“Monson got one minute and fifty-two seconds.”
“Weak.”
Monson grinned. “I’m going to love watching you fail, princess.”
She went over and ruffled his sweaty hair. “And what are you going to give me when I slam your time?”
“I’ll take you to dinner. And if you don’t break my time, which you won’t, I’ll take you to dinner.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You just said the same thing.”
His grin widened. “I sure did.”
“I’m not going to dinner with you.” She glanced at me. “Time me, coach.”
I held out my stopwatch. “Ready, set, go!”
Alyssa tore toward the tires and moved through them like I hadn’t seen before. She should have been at a disadvantage with her height, but she made it look like a breeze. Dropping to her stomach, she crawled under the mesh. Those clothes were history.
“What is she, part lizard?” Jackson muttered.
“She’s hot whatever she is,” Harris said.
I shot him a look. He straightened immediately.
The wall was next. There was no way she was making that. She just didn’t have enough height.
Alyssa sprinted, jumped, caught the top with both hands, and used her feet to walk herself up before flipping over the other side.
“Dang,” someone breathed. “That girl should be in the Olympics or something.”
The sandbags slowed her a little, but she made up for it in the cones, weaving through them like she’d memorized the pattern. She hit the final sprint and crossed the line with a dramatic spin.
She planted her hands on her hips. “Well?”
I looked at the stopwatch. “One forty-seven.”
Silence.
Monson blinked. “No way.”
She grinned. “Dang. I’d hope for one thirty.”
The team erupted.
Monson shook his head. “That was luck.”
She stepped closer. “Run it again.”
He hesitated.
The guys started chanting, “Run it! Run it! Run it!”
She crossed her arms. “You wanted dinner, Monson. Beat me and I’m paying.” Alyssa glanced at him. “Or you could just admit I’m better.”
He smiled slowly. “You’re crazy.”
She shrugged. “And faster.”
I laughed. “I want you all practicing here at least once a day. The first one to beat Alyssa’s time…” I thought for a few seconds, “gets a gift card to the diner.”
A groan came from my guys.
“And my time is only going to improve,” Alyssa said. She smiled and walked away. My entire team watched her go.
Jackson let out a low whistle. “We’re never hearing the end of that.”
“I call dibs,” Brant said.
I pointed at him. “You better mean on the obstacle course.”
He swallowed. “Yeah, that’s what I meant.”
Monson shook his head, but he was smiling. “One forty-seven,” he muttered. “I slipped on the crawl.”
“Sure you did,” Harris said.
“I’ve got a lot more bulk than she does. I have to pull all of this up there,” he said, motioning at his body. “She’s what? A hundred pounds?”
I glanced toward the parking lot where Alyssa was still walking, sunlight catching in her hair.
That girl was going to break a lot of hearts if she wasn’t careful.
And judging by the way my players were staring, she might start right here.