First and Goal (Moving the Chains #1) (12 page)

Having no freaking clue how to respond to this situation, I escape into the kitchen without another word and put in his order like a good little employee. At least I didn’t jump down his throat about my suspicions. Baby steps.

A
t practice, I push my body well past its limits. Anything to dull the ache that the constant screw-ups with Evie are causing me. I nearly hyperventilated last night when she walked away from the table without a word after I confessed I was at the diner for her. Eventually when there were no other customers in the dining area, she sat beside me with a plate of fries as I caught her up on the second chapter.

Then some douche swaggered out of the kitchen, glaring at me. Evie hopped up to apparently talk him down and stop him from trying to beat my ass. Yeah. That’s what he threatened to do, thinking I couldn’t hear him as he spoke in Evie’s ear. I’m guessing he’s one of the cooks if the grease-stained apron was anything to go by. I’ll need to ask Margie if he’s working when I go in there from now on. I don’t really want to be eating his spit…or worse.

I kept my cool, not wanting to freak out Evie with the rage that boiled just under the surface of my skin. He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned into her ear, his mouth nearly making contact with her perfect skin. My blood pressure went through the roof. I know I could’ve laid the dude flat on his back, but I didn’t. Pretty sure he was making a show of touching her for my benefit. I didn’t want to give in to his obvious desire to see me go all caveman on his ass.

After she escorted him back into the kitchen, she came back to me, apologized for his behavior, and finished out the chapter we’d been working on. It was pretty clear on her end, at least, that there’s nothing going on between them. Thank God.

The girl makes my head spin. I don’t feel any more confident in her opinion of me today than I did on Monday, and I still haven’t come up with any new plays for winning her. Last night’s down was obviously another loss of yards.

Standing on the football practice field, I take a moment to close my eyes and inhale the scent of the freshly mowed grass. There’s nothing like football to clear my head. When I’m in the pocket reading the play and reacting, there’s no time to think of anything else.

The sound of cheers being practiced at the edge of the field mingles with the grunts and clash of helmets from the defense who are still working out some new plays. I mentally run over my play options and try to keep thoughts of Evie from infiltrating my concentration.

Who am I kidding? I’m never going to reach my goal. If I thought just growing a pair to ask her out was hard, fighting against her hatred of me is damn near impossible. Snapping my eyes open, I throw the football with as much force as I can muster. My target is less than five yards away.

“Easy there, champ. Mitchell can’t handle all that heat.”

“Shut up Alex,” Mike says, loping over to us while rubbing his chest where the ball hit. “What’s got your panties all in a bunch today, Falls?”

I moan and grab the football back. Looking over my shoulder, I check to see if the defense is done working out the kinks so we can scrimmage. Nope. With nothing else to burn off this nervous energy running through my veins, I turn the ball over in my hands, working my dexterity while we wait.

“The tutoring gig not working out as well as you’d hoped, bro?” Mike Mitchell is six feet two inches of solid muscle. As the best running back on the team, he can pull along at least three defenders his size and not break a sweat. We’ve been friends since we first played pee-wee football together. Mike and I bonded in a brotherhood on the field that extended to everyday life after so many years of playing together. Though he isn’t necessarily the brightest bulb in the bunch, his heart is bigger than his muscles. He’s also one of the few players with a long-term girlfriend to prove it.

“Nah, Rob’s saved by the Bio Effect. Heads up,” Alex gestures to the bleachers at the edge of the field with his chin.

I follow his gaze into the stands to see Evie leaning back on the bleacher behind her, weight resting on her elbows. Her legs are stretched out on the bench in front of her. Torrential rains broke the heat wave last night, so any hope that she’d surrender to the temperature and wear shorts again was dashed. Instead she wears a pair of faded, ripped jeans, a black Foo Fighters t-shirt, and a black leather belt. Even with her wardrobe overhaul last year, going from classy and girly to rock chick, she’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen. Her long, dark hair falls all around her shoulders, a departure from the way she usually wears it up and off her face. My fingers itch to run through her curls rather than grip the football currently in them. The way she’s sprawled out on the bleachers accentuates every curve that she has to offer. Her aviators hide the direction of her sight, but I’m pretty fucking sure her eyes aren’t on me.

“God, she looks good enough to eat.” I keep turning the ball over in my hands to distract myself, ripping my gaze away to study the much safer football.

Alex laughs, wags his eyebrows suggestively, and claps me roughly on the shoulder. “All in good time, my friend, all in good time. First you gotta get her to want to spread her legs. Come on, Mike and I’ll go long, and you do your thing. You just gotta quit bein’ such a chickenshit and strut your stuff a little more, stud.”

I try to shut Alex up with my I’m-going-to-beat-your-ass expression, knowing it’ll do no good. Mostly because I can’t pull it off with a straight face. “I did not mean it like that, you fucking perv. Besides, I don’t think she’d care if I threw for a thousand yards. She’s not that kinda girl.”

Alex Fossoway is the epitome of the womanizing jock that Evie believes me to be. Though he isn’t as big and muscular as Mike or me, he’s fucking fast. That makes him the go-to wide receiver for most of the passing yardage. A self-proclaimed playboy, he drives a Lexus that his parents bought him for his sixteenth birthday. He has neither a care about anything in the world, nor the mental awareness to realize those thoughts are missing. Or so it seems to everyone else. Since we were toddlers, Alex has been the brother I’ve never had. Even after he got little brothers of his own, our bond never wavered. I can never convince people outside of our circle that underneath Alex’s spoiled, vapid exterior is just another good guy trying to scrape his way through high school unscathed. Few people know the real Alex, just as Evie doesn’t know the real me. Mike is the only open book in our little trio. He’s never had his heart broken badly enough to feel the need to shield himself with lies the way Alex and I do.

“I still don’t see the attraction,” Alex sweeps his gaze back up to where Evie reclines in the stands. “Mikey? Thoughts? Please tell Falls, here, that he’s going about this all the wrong way and that scary, Goth-in-training Eva just needs a little more motivation to fall into his lap and beg to suck his horse dick. Honestly, she was way hotter last year. I can’t believe you’re still into this chick.”

I force myself to squeeze the football tighter and resist the urge to punch Alex. I turn to Mike with an arched eyebrow and silent question. Mike will back me up for sure.

“Hey, just because I’ve known Evie since kindergarten doesn’t mean I’m going to tell you how to get her to suck anyone’s dick. We’re still close, and I’d like to keep it that way.” Mike defensively splays his hands. “And she’s not a Goth. Jesus, Alex. She’s the least scary person I know.”

“What’s up with you, man? Are you our bro, or not? ‘Cause you’ve been kinda hands off this whole operation for a while now, and it’s really startin’ to piss me off.” Alex eyes Mike suspiciously.

“Nothing’s up with me! If she wants to date Rob, then whatever. If not, she’s my friend, and I don’t wanna have to pick sides.”

“No, you know what? As soon as shit started to look up for Rob last year after she and Hinton called it quits, you backed the fuck off on helping Rob land Evie. Spill it, Mitchell. You got a thing for her or what? ‘Cause I, for one, haven’t been playing wingman all this time just to watch you bag her instead.” Alex crosses his arms over his chest, staring Mike down.

My eyes have been focused on the ace bandage on Evie’s left ankle, but I tune back into the conversation when Alex’s voice gets that edgy tone. I brace my hand against his chest to keep him from taking another step towards Mike. When Mike lunges forward, I drop the ball and push him back with my other hand to keep them apart. It’s not an easy feat to hold Mike back when he’s pissed off; the guy could easily take me. I feel a lot more like a referee instead of a quarterback, but at least it’s a distraction from the lounging goddess in the stands.

“Number one, I have
never
gotten involved with trying to hook those two up, and you know it! Number two, you know damn well I don’t have a thing for her! And you’d better keep your fuckin’ mouth shut and not spew that horseshit around Chelsie! She’s already jealous enough of Evie.” Mike takes a step back and rolls his shoulders in an effort to show me he’s good.

I gape at Mike in confusion. “Why is Chelsie jealous? ‘Cause Evie’s drum major this year? I didn’t think Chelsie even auditioned.”

“No, she didn’t audition. She’s jealous that Evie and I have been friends for longer than I’ve been with her.” Mike peers into the stands where Chelsie sits with some of the other players’ girlfriends, then looks to where Evie sits alone. “She says guys and girls can’t just be friends or some shit.”

Alex stops his cagey movements and barks out a lewd laugh. “Well, that’s true.”

“No, it’s not!” Mike throws back. “She’s like my sister! There’s nothing between me and Evie, and there never has been! Not all of us feel the need to screw every pussy that pays us the smallest bit of attention. And I do mean…smallest.” Mike narrows his eyes dangerously at Alex.

I have to block another charge.

“Hey! You homos gonna circle jerk now, or can we play some football?”

I try to shrug off the usual taunts from our starting safety, Josh, thanking God that the defense has finally broken for the scrimmage. One of these days I am going to take my own teammate’s head off because he’s an insufferable douche bag that deserves to be brought down a few pegs. Just…not today, not with Evie watching. But if I catch the asshole harassing her even one more time in the halls, all bets are off.

Practice is finally called fifteen minutes late. I’m exhausted, depressed, and thirsty. Glancing over my shoulder, it’s obvious Evie hasn’t moved from her spot on the bleachers. I don’t remember her watching a single practice before today. Who is she waiting for?

“What’s up with Evie’s ankle since you two are so close and all?” I narrow my eyes at Mike as he approaches the bench beside me. Maybe she’s waiting for him, which makes me insanely jealous even though I know they’re just friends.

Mike wipes the sweat from his face with a towel and doesn’t seem to notice or care that I’m being an asshole. He glances toward the stands, shrugs, and gulps down his Gatorade. “Dunno. Let’s go find out.”

We both pause to look around for Alex, but he’s already made his way over to where the cheerleaders are packing up their own practice for the day. Typical Alex. Mike and I exchange a knowing look as we make our way across the field.