Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

brOCK

Trying to be just friends with Presley is a bad idea. I’ll have to watch everything I say and do and make sure I don’t give her the wrong idea. I can’t lead her on again and hurt her. It’s selfish to try this, but I can’t say no to her. And there’s TOK to think about. The new book is coming out, dropping lightning fast in a way that’s generated some buzz about it among more than just the TOK community. Book influencers on social media are talking about the surprise announcement for the “little known classic,” and the TOK fan pages have been flooded with reviews for the first book that new readers are posting as they start the series. And they like it. They’re calling it “cool in a quirky way,” which tells me they don’t get it. In any case, the book release event has sold out, and Presley and I will need to get to the bookstore earlier than we thought if we’re going to score tickets to the gathering with the author.

Meanwhile, today is my first game with the Rays. I don’t expect a lot of playing time. I’ve only had a few practices with the team this week, but I’m nervous anyway. I have to prove I’m worth the drama.

In my first meeting with the coach, I promised him I wouldn’t let my emotions rule my mouth. He’d chuckled, put a hand on my shoulder, and said, “I’m hoping you don’t have any drama to spill here, Hunter. And if you do, I hope you’ll spill it to me first.”

He reminds me of Tim—a coach who wants to get to know me, who isn’t letting memes rule his opinion of me, and who will make sure I get a fair shot.

Maybe that’s why I feel double pressure to prove myself to him. Especially when he puts me in the first offensive play of the game.

Lincoln grins at me and gives me a hard pat on the shoulder as we huddle up for the play. My nerves settle back a notch, knowing I’ve got him watching my back. It’s more than I had at the Devils.

I set up on the line, my heart pumping. The crowd is a low hum, and I push the noise to the background. I scan the linebackers opposite me on the defense for the Cobras. My brain stops on number sixty-five, the defensive end lined up opposite me. There’s something off about where he is. I catalogue it and ready myself for the count.

Jett McCombs has praised me for being able to see the little details, and that’s because during plays, time seems to slow for me. It’s like I’m a little bit of The Flash, everyone around me moving slower while my brain works faster. They’re blitzing on the first play, probably trying to put Eli on edge. I move quickly to block the end coming in, knocking into him hard and shouting to point out the linebacker rushing in. Mark Travis, the Rays tight end, shifts quickly into place to block him. In my peripheral, I see Eli toss the ball toward Baker, the wide receiver on his right who’s uncovered because the Cobras sent most of their guys to the left. Baker gets an easy first down before the defenders chase him out of bounds.

“Nice spot!” Travis yells at me as we jog back to the huddle. He pounds my helmet—not a great feeling but I grin anyway.

Lincoln shoves at my side. “Thought they were going to sneak through Hunter’s side? They haven’t watched their film.” He laughs, and the whole team nods in agreement. The Cobras thought they could take advantage of my first time on the field as a Ray. I grin at the praise, my nerves settling even more. On the sideline, the coach is clapping his hands, and he points at me. I read, “Nice one,” off his lips before I turn back to my team.

We start marching up the field, and a few plays later, I notice the linebackers are off again, this time on the right side.

As soon as Eli finishes his count and the ball is snapped, I shout down the line, “They’re coming, they’re coming!” I hold my position, yelling at the offensive line as the blitz comes in. Lincoln manages to get a couple yards. It’s not much, but it’s enough for a first down.

We end up kicking a field goal, but it’s a good first drive to the game. Excitement pulses through me. It’s the best drive I’ve been a part of in a long time. I find Lincoln on the sidelines once the defense has taken the field.

“Johnson is lining up a hair over his gap when they’re blitzing,” I tell him.

Lincoln shakes his head in awe at me. “You always did notice the little things. Allen is going to get jealous,” he says, speaking of the Rays center, Shawn Allen. “Why’re you telling me and not him?”

My brows come down. It’s obvious. “Because I know you. I trust you.”

Lincoln leans toward me. “Here?” He gestures around him at the players on the sidelines. “You can trust everyone.” I can’t help my skeptical look. Lincoln claps me on the shoulder. “I promise, Hunter. And you said you trusted me.” He shoves me toward Allen.

I stride over, my smile growing with each second. This is how football is supposed to be.