Chapter One

Colter

"How does it feel to be named captain?" Coach Ferentz asks.

I zoned out when he stepped out of his office to stop one of my teammates before he left. I've been having a hard time sleeping the past few nights, so it takes me a second to react to his question. My eyes snap over to his.

I paste on a fake smile and nod. "I couldn't be happier about it, Coach. It's what I've busted my ass for last year and in the offseason, to be my absolute best. I'm honored the team wants me as one of their leaders."

It's the truth too. This is everything I've been working for, and to achieve it in only my second year playing for Braysen is not lost on me.

We lost most of our starting line to graduation or transfers. Some speculated what this could mean for the Bulldogs this year. Coach Frye, our head coach, will go down as one of the winningest coaches in history, so we knew to trust his game plan, even with all the changes.

Football has been the one true constant in my life. When I put on my helmet and stepped out onto the field, I could block out everything around me and focus on the game.

I've grown used to carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. I've always been the one to take care of everyone and look out for the people around me. Since I grew up as the only man in our house, those responsibilities were instilled in me from an early age.

It's what my dad would've wanted of me. I don't doubt he would've been proud of me for earning the captain spot too.

"Carver transferring to Braysen was the missing piece of the puzzle. He fits in with the team perfectly."

Coach nods. "We all knew it would be hard saying goodbye to Ford last year. Having Beckham here, though, playing with his brother, I think their bond and his leadership are what the Bulldogs need going forward."

Hayes Carver is one of my best friends and roommates. He had one of the hardest first seasons last year, and I knew he needed to have his twin brother, Beckham, alongside him this season. Beckham opted to play at Rixton University during their freshman year. He was offered the starting position from the jump, and the fact his best friends play hockey for Rixton swayed his decision.

He would've had an uphill battle to climb to win out the starting spot at Braysen, so I can't blame him.

Losing Ford, our quarterback, was like losing the heart of our team. After the season ended, there was a lot of talk about how we would fill his role, and I'm starting to see Coach Frye's vision for the team. Beckham has one hell of a throwing arm and the stats to back him up.

Our first game of the season is only weeks away. It'll be here in no time.

We chat for a bit, and when I catch the time, I smack the table and stand, shaking Coach's hand before I head out.

Between training camp and practice, summer was slowly slipping through my fingertips. The guys and I decided to get a group of friends together tonight and escape to Sugar Bottom for a bonfire on the beach.

We have a little over a week left before classes start, and I'm damn sure not going to miss a chance to have a few beers and let loose with my friends.

Hayes leans against the wall when I step out of the office. He perks up when he hears the door shut and nods behind me. Even with the closed door separating us, he keeps his voice low when he asks, "Everything good with Ferentz?"

Coach Ferentz is our offensive line coach. We both had a good relationship with him, even though he could be a hard-ass. I know he cares about me and this team, so I try to remind myself of it when he tries to knock sense into us.

I nod and mutter, "We were just bullshittin'."

Hayes eyes me speculatively. I playfully shoved him in the arm, trying to get him to lighten his mood.

"C'mon, let's get the hell out of here. I need to shower before we head out to Sugar Bottom."

His face relaxes, and he joins me as we saunter down the hall past the athletic training rooms near the practice facilities. A group of girls stands in the hallway near one of the gyms.

I recognized a couple of them from the dance team last year. Judging by how they run through their routine while the others look on, I'm going to make a wild guess that they're new to the team.

The one facing away from me is dressed in a blue shirt and a pair of teal shorts rolled at her waist. Her golden-blond hair is pulled into a ponytail. Every time it sways, I catch a glimpse of a name and number on the back of her shirt that I thought I'd never see again in Braysen colors.

Her hips move as she runs through the dance, and the way her body moves entrances me. Mandy, one of the girls with her, shouts to Hayes about tonight's party. That's when she stops and follows her line of sight over to me.

The way her smile lights up her face, accentuating her strikingly blue eyes, catches me off guard. A voice in my head told me she'd be beautiful even before she turned around, but it still didn't prepare me for her stunning appearance.

Freckles dot the apples of her cheeks. There's a rosy hue to them, I suspect from hours in the summer sun. My mind circles back to the name printed on her shirt, and I blurt out the words on the tip of my tongue before I can think better of it.

"Hate to break it to ya, sweetheart, but Watson doesn't play for Braysen anymore. If you want a jersey to wear, though, I'll give you one of mine." I chuckle. "Might as well toss that one out while we're at it."

Her mouth falls open before she quickly snaps it shut. I study her as she drags her teeth over her plump lower lip, appearing to stifle her smirk, and I force my thoughts to stay out of the gutter.

She tilts her head to the side, boring her gaze into me. "I'll be sure to let my brother know you think his jersey belongs in the trash." She crosses her arms, popping her hip like an exclamation point to the end of her retort.

I have no doubt that while I may have a solid foot, if not more, on her, there's no way in hell she's the type to back down without a fight.

When I toss a wink at her, the fiery look on her face melts away despite keeping her eyes trained on us as we trudged past them.

"You walked right into that one." Hayes chuckles next to me, but I don't bother breaking eye contact with her.

Alec Watson played for Braysen last year. Rumors swirled over the summer that he debated returning for his sophomore year. When I reached out to him to ask if there was any truth to what I was hearing, he straight-up lied to my face and said he'd never leave Braysen or his teammates.

It wasn't long after the headlines hit that Beckham would play for the Bulldogs next season that reports started coming out about Watson transferring to Keaton. So, while some might say I crossed the line and insulted her brother, she was the one who said his jersey belonged in the trash. Not that I don't agree with her.

Braysen and Keaton were one of college football's biggest rivalries. Keaton is located about thirty minutes south of Braysen, just over the South Carolina-Georgia border.

It was one thing to leave Braysen, but to sell out and play for Keaton had traitor written all over it. Word on the street is that Alec was bitter about Hayes and Zane, another one of our wide receivers, getting more playing time than he did.

I guess I didn't have much room to talk, though. Toying with his little sister is another form of treachery, but Alec has it coming. He isn't my friend or teammate anymore. What the hell do I care if he has a problem with me wanting his sister?

I drove to practice this morning after picking up a few overtime hours. I've been working for a local moving company. It kept me active, and the money was nice. It pained me not to take advantage of the extra hours with all the new students swarming back to campus.

Hayes and I head back home to get cleaned up before making our way to Sugar Bottom.

The sun was setting as people started showing up, and a cool breeze rolled in from the ocean. At this point, with the sun gone in the distant horizon, most of the locals ditched the beach, leaving it relatively empty for us.

Beckham and Hayes are unloading our coolers, and our roommate, Reed, follows, lugging our chairs. I unloaded the two bonfire barrels we brought with us, full of tree limbs and cardboard leftovers from when Beckham and Hayes moved back to campus.

I'm not paying much attention to what's going on around me until the music starts, blaring one of my favorites by Luke Combs. I light one of the matches and toss it into the barrel, glancing up and locking eyes with the one person I hadn't expected to see tonight.

"Well, I changed," she says, holding her hand out to reveal her top. Her face is smooth, not showing a hint of emotion.

I smile, appeasing her by letting my eyes trail down her body. Only this time, I take my time. When she clears her throat, I realize maybe I've taken too long, but I can't seem to find the will to care when I notice the glint in her eye and the subtle smile curving her lips.

"You did." I nod.

We keep our gazes locked. I've already cataloged how good she looks in her denim shorts, torn and frayed at the edges, with her white top. It's tied around her neck, revealing her tan shoulders, marked with the same freckles covering her cheeks.

Her hair is still pulled back in a ponytail, with a few strands framing her face.

"I have to admit, I like this better on you, but I stand by my word."

She clenches her jaw. I suspect not liking how I'm holding my ground on her throwing her brother's shirt in the trash. I lift my hands between us to clarify.

"I meant the part about you wearing my jersey."

She pops the top of the beer in her hand, and I watch as she lifts the can and takes a long drink. I study the way her throat moves, her tongue darting out to swipe the remnants from her lips while I wait for her to reply.

"Judging by your size, something tells me it wouldn't fit." Her voice cracks at the end.

I grin when she nervously rubs her lips together and turns, her eyes roaming over the group of people forming around us as though she's checking to see if anyone may have overheard her.

Something about this girl draws me into her, and I step around the barrel, the heat of the fire picking up. She doesn't move even though I know she sees me approaching her. Her eyes flutter, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye.

I reach out and brush my knuckle along her arm, my voice dropping low. "That's where you're wrong," I say, and she glances at me.

Her brows narrow, almost as if she's confused or forgot what she said. I run my hand down her forearm and grip her hip. She steps toward me, tilting her head to the side when I lean in close enough, my lips near her ear.

"We'd make it work. You don't have to worry, sweetheart. It'll fit."

She sucks in a sharp breath. I pull away, catching the way her eyes flash wide. It sends her into a coughing fit, and I grin.

"You okay?" I ask, tilting my head to the side like she did to me before.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're incredibly arrogant?"

I chuckle. "Ehh… Bold. Confident. There's a difference."

She eyes me, nodding slowly, playing off like she's not the least bit impressed.

"Don't worry, though. I know you're off-limits. I don't need your brother hunting my ass down when he finds out I'm flirting with his sister."

"You call this flirting?" She smirks.

"What do you want to call it, then?"

She shrugs and lifts her beer to take another drink. I realize she does it to buy herself time.

I expect her to change the subject or pretend she didn't hear me entirely. She catches me off guard when she says, "What my brother doesn't know won't hurt him."

"Or maybe I like him knowing that I want his sister."

Her body sways when she stares into my eyes. We stand toe-to-toe, our lips a few inches apart. It's like we're both waiting for the other to give in first. Except I don't want to rush this with her. I've never been the hookup type. Hell, most of the stuff I've said today is out of character for me.

Maybe I want to drag this out and see if she truly means what she says. Or maybe I want to see which of us will fold first.

She raises her brow, her eyes falling to my lips. "Prove it."

I guess I'm not the only bold one between the two of us.