6. Colton

Colton’s muscles ached as he lay on the turf of the practice field. Most of the team was heading to the showers, but Colton had a session with Lucia before the season opener. He actually felt that they were making progress. Not that he’d ever tell her that.

Colton was not proud of the way he’d acted with Lucia after the last preseason game. He’d made an effort to be on time for their meetings over the next week, and to her credit, she’d begun to implement productive ways to help him that weren’t just picking apart film. Namely, practice drills.

When Colton turned his head to the left, he was met with the tallest, most ridiculous pair of heels he’d ever seen. Lucia peered down at him, and with the glow of the floodlights behind her like a halo, she looked like an angel. His eyes traveled over her legs briefly, marveling at how long they were.

When he met her eyes, she raised an eyebrow.

“What do you want, Moretti?” He let out a groan as he turned his head to look back up at the night sky.

“Why are you so sore?”

“I’ve been going to the gym before and after practice this week to get ready for the game.”

“Who told you to do that? You need to rest. Causing extra strain on your muscles isn’t a good idea so close to the season. You’re on a plan for a reason.”

“And yet here you are, about to ask me to do extra drills.”

Lucia sighed. After a moment, something thudded next to his head. “Put that on. We’ll keep it light today, but I need to get some metrics to keep your tracking consistent.”

When he picked it up, he realized it was the vest she’d had him wear during their field sessions. “I don’t want to wear the sports bra today.”

Another thud. The bands he wore on his wrists to track his arm movement. “It’s not a sports bra. Stop whining and get up. I have shit to do.”

“Like what?”

“What did we say about asking questions about our lives outside of these sessions?”

“Ask them?” She didn’t look amused. “Well, how else am I supposed to know whether or not you’re working for the Vipers?”

“I’ll be sure to show you the part of my paystub that says ‘Sabertooths Football.’ Now. Get. Up.”

Colton stood, groaning. When he started to remove his shirt, she made a noise that sounded like a squeak.

“What are you doing?”

“Putting the sports bra on.”

“Put it on over your t-shirt.”

Colton grinned, having learned that making Lucia uncomfortable was one of his favorite pastimes. Especially to get back at her for all the rude comments she’d inevitably make about his sloppy form. “What? Can’t think when my shirt’s off?”

“Another comment like that, and I’ll have to have a conversation with HR. Put the vest on. I already put cones and ladders out, I just need to track your acceleration for some agility drills, and then we can focus on your throwing.” Under her breath, but not quiet at all, she continued, “God knows you need agility training. You can’t scramble for shit right now.”

“I heard that.”

“Good. Get up and prove me wrong.”

Despite the strain, Colton completed five rounds of the agility drills she’d laid out for him, his legs screaming from the effort. After each round, Lucia checked her tablet, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. Finally, she seemed content with the numbers.

“Okay, put the wristbands on now. We’ll do the same throwing drills as last time.” When he listened, her eyebrows came together. “You’re being more amenable than usual, have you finally decided that I’m not a Vipers minion here to spy on you?”

Colton slapped the ball once before letting it roll off his fingertips, up, up, up. She glanced down at her tablet again, tapping on it a couple of times.

“I’m too tired to think of anything mean right now. You’re still Clark’s little helper, as far as I’m concerned.” It was lazy, but Colton liked to win, and any comments about her being Clark’s minion seemed to get under her skin.

She looked up at him angrily. “Colton, on the field, you’re supposed to scramble your feet, not your brain.”

He picked up another football from the ground near his feet, his whole body aching with the effort. He took a step back and repeated the motion, this ball coming up a little shorter than the last.

“Early release. Focus on the field. You have no d-line descending on you, absolutely no pressure. Give me eight clean throws, and you can be done.”

“Since when did you become a quarterback coach? I didn’t even know analysts did field work.”

“Since you showed Coach Turner—your biggest supporter, by the way—that he can’t trust you to lead his team anymore.”

Ouch. He’d walked right into that one. “I’m plenty capable. We just beat the Lions, didn’t we?”

Lucia scoffed, “You and I both know that was an ugly win. If they had been even slightly better, we probably would’ve lost…again. And honestly, Cooper coming back helped you immensely.”

He didn’t respond. She was right anyway. He played better when Cooper was out on the field. And if the Lions had been on their A game, he would’ve struggled a lot more to get that win.

“What do you love about the game?” she asked, tossing him a ball that’d rested beside her foot.

“What?”

“Why do you play? What makes you want to keep playing?”

“Winning.” He said it without thinking. Winning was, and had always been, his driving force. His father had instilled it in him from a very young age. If he wanted people to see him, he needed to win.

Lucia gave him a look that seemed equal parts pity and contempt. “But there has to be something that makes you enjoy football. The fans? The feeling of a great throw? Being able to do what you love with a team that you love? What about the game gets you giddy?”

“Giddy? What am I, a teenager?” He let another ball fly, knowing how perfect it was before Lucia even said anything.

She let out an exasperated sigh. “Never mind. Seven more.”

He listened, letting a few more go until she was satisfied. He jogged over to the balls he’d thrown and dropped them into a nearby bin. She was already heading back toward the offices when he caught up to her.

He pulled the wristbands and vest off, handing them to her. Her hand stilled when his fingers brushed hers, like he’d startled her. The tired look on her face made him ask, “What about the game gets you giddy?”

She searched his face as if looking for any signs he was mocking her. “Everything.” She shrugged and kept walking.

“That’s a half-assed answer.”

“Better than yours!” she called over her shoulder, disappearing into the tall, glass building. Colton smiled at that.

He jogged toward the locker room, excited at the prospect of a warm shower to soothe his aching muscles. When he turned on the hot water and stepped in, he realized he was still smiling.

The hooting and hollering that accompanied their win didn’t end on the bus to the airport and continued well into the flight back to Charleston. The coaches, including Coach Turner, were still talking excitedly together. Everybody was admittedly surprised that the season would be starting one and zero.

Even Lucia was smiling when Colton walked past her on the plane to use the bathroom, though he quickly realized it was because of something Cooper—who, for some reason, was in the seat beside hers—had said.

When Coop saw him, he waved him down with an evil grin. “Colt, why didn’t you tell me how lovely Ms. Moretti here is? Were you gonna keep all this intelligence to yourself? I could use some help too, you know.”

Cooper only grinned wider when Colton scowled. “There’s nothing lovely about Lucia,” he grumbled as he walked away.

A few minutes later, when he came back from the bathroom, Cooper was nowhere in sight, and Lucia was typing rapidly on her tablet. When she noticed him watching her, she glared. “Oh, hello, asswipe. Come to tell me about how ugly I am again?”

There were stifled snickers across the aisle from Lucia, though the staff members quieted and looked away at Colton’s glare.

He turned back to look at Lucia.

“I never called you ugly.” The fervor with which he spoke seemed to stun them both. He rolled his neck, saved from having to say anything further when the pilot let them know they were descending. He pointed toward his seat, which seemed to be enough of a goodbye for Lucia.

While Colton sat back down and fastened his seat belt, Cooper turned to him with that same grin on his face. “Not your smoothest moment, my friend.”

“What were you doing talking to her?”

“What would you say if I told you I was asking her out?”

Colton’s head whipped to look at his best friend, who was quickly becoming his least favorite person. “You didn’t.”

Cooper’s laugh was answer enough, though he still responded. “No, I didn’t. I was asking about GameFlow Analytics. I took a couple of coding classes in college and really liked them, so I wanted to learn a bit more about her process and her favorite programming language. Pissing you off was just a bonus.” That didn’t warrant a response from Colton, and Cooper chuckled again. “What do you care, anyway? I thought you didn’t like her.”

“I don’t,” he ground out.

“But I can’t ask her out?”

“Correct. Plus, she’s probably still with Clark. You know my theory.”

“Yes, Einstein, I’m well aware of your outlandish theory. You talk about it so much, I bet even your pillow knows about it.”

“What?”

“When you talk about it in your sleep.”

“I don’t think it’s outlandish. Her best friend in college literally—”

“Yes, yes, she slept with Vinny, who divulged all of your team secrets. Does that even seem like something that would’ve happened? Or did you just let Clark get in your head?”

Colton mulled it over, hating to concede it was entirely possible Max had said that after the win just to piss him off. It was definitely a signature Max Clark dick move. Still, that didn’t change the fact that she was the fiancée—or ex-fiancée—of his sworn enemy.

“She’s still potentially going to marry the person I hate most in the world.”

Cooper shook his head. “I think you know you’re being ridiculous. Nobody allows themselves to be publicly humiliated like that, and then moves their entire life to another state, where they don’t know anyone but the guy they’re being forced to work with, for their fiancé’s personal vendetta.”

“What, did you take psychology classes in college too?”

“As a matter of fact, I did. They went hand in hand with my anti-bullshit classes.”

Colton rested his head on the seat, closing his eyes for a moment as the plane’s wheels touched down.

Colton shut the door to the locker room, letting it click quietly behind him. After his father’s call, which had only been marginally better than the ones he’d received after losing, he’d spent an hour in the weight room doing some light resistance training, stretching, and rolling out. He didn’t usually do more than a quick stretch after a game, but he was feeling antsy after his conversation with Cooper.

The building was quiet, just the way Colton preferred it. He often stayed behind after everyone left, enjoying having the vastness of the facility all to himself. The elevator dinged, letting him out on the third floor where they had fridges stocked with healthy food and protein shakes. His stomach growled, the few slices of pizza he’d had after the game long digested.

Just as he started to grab a stack of food, the door opened, startling him. When he turned around, he expected to see a janitor. Instead, standing there in her matching, dark-green, game-day pantsuit was Lucia.

She squeaked when she saw him. “I—I thought I was the last one here.”

He was at a loss for words. Her hair, normally in a clip or tight bun, was down, falling well past her shoulders. When he finally regained the ability to speak, he said, “Nobody’s allowed in here but coaches and players.”

“No, I know. I just—I got hungry, and I haven’t had much time to get groceries, and everywhere’s closed, but…you’re right. I should go.” She turned to leave.

“What are you doing here so late?”

“One win does not a Super Bowl-winning team make, Colton. There’s a lot to do.” Her hand still rested on the door, her back to him.

He took a step forward, then another. “But it’s late. Way past midnight.”

Lucia turned around, eyes widening as she took in how close he’d moved to her. “Well, my job depends on making sure you keep winning. Not the team. You, specifically. And just because we won doesn’t mean you’re back to yourself. So, I came back to watch film.”

She worked harder than the coaches. Even they had gone home already, content to watch film the next morning.

He took another step forward until his shoes were practically touching hers. He waited to see if she’d move away, push herself against the door, but she didn’t. She just stared up into his eyes defiantly.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” he whispered.

He watched her throat as she swallowed, then her mouth as she bit her lip. Her eyes were as hazy as his head felt.

“H—huh?”

He tilted his head back toward the fridges. “I won’t tell anybody if you grab some food.”

“O—oh, right.” But she didn’t move. Her eyes didn’t leave his.

“What’s the matter? No witty quip for me? My, my, Moretti. That’s very unlike you.”

“I—I—”

He loved making her stutter, and apparently, his proximity did the trick.

“Please don’t stay here this late after everyone leaves. It’s dangerous.”

“You’re…you’re not my boss. And…and you’re here, too. Who should I be afraid of? You?”

He inched closer, their noses almost touching. Her eyes fluttered closed, and he wondered if she wanted him to kiss her as badly as he wanted to. It was an unsettling thought, so instead, he whispered, “Go grab something from the fridge, and I’ll walk you out.”