Secret Catch (4 page)

“Sammy!” Josh yells. “We’re all done. Are you ready?”

Tyler pulls away with a laugh. “He has impeccable timing.”

“That he does.”
Damn it.

Tyler helps me up as Josh runs toward us.

When he reaches us, Tyler says to him, “Hey bud, will you run over to the monkey bars and grab my sweatshirt and water bottle?”

“Sure.” Josh smiles and runs off.

Tyler looks at me. “So, you owe me a date?”

“Yeah, I think I do.”

“Can I get your number?”

“You have your phone?”

He shakes his head. “No, but I’ll remember it.”

I tell him my number right as Josh runs back with his stuff.

“Dude,” he says, poking his finger into Tyler’s chest. “You never said you were a Trojan.”

I rub my chest where Josh poked me. He sticks my hoodie out as if it’s covered in loogies.

Honestly, I’ve never been into the rivalry. I have my team’s back when we pull pranks, and
hell yeah
I’m gonna defend my brothers when it comes to the field. But the entire schools’ back and forth doesn’t make sense to me, and I’m willing to break “the rules” for a chance with Sam.

Crouching down, I take my hoodie and tuck it under my arm. Josh sets his hands on his hips.

“What’s wrong with being a Trojan?” I ask.

He “pfft”s. “What’s
not
wrong with a Trojan? Can you even call yourselves football players?”

“Ouch.” I grin and glance at Sam behind me who shrugs with apologetic eyes. It’s all right. I hear the same crap on my side of town. I turn to Josh and nod to the field behind him. “I did pretty well out there don’t you think? We won.”

He presses his lips together and furrows his brow. “I guess…after a couple rounds you sort of got the hang of it.”

I love this kid. I smirk and stretch up on my legs. “Maybe I need more training?”

His pursed lips split into a smile. “Some
Skyhawk
training.”

“Then I’ll see you next week, Captain?”

Josh drops his arms and goes from strict anti-Trojan kid to a regular six-year-old bouncing on his feet. “Really? You’ll play with us again?”

“If it’s all right with Sam.” I give her a short glance again because I know if I give her anything longer than that I’ll be tempted to continue what we stopped in the wood chips—even in front of her brother. She opens her red lips to say something, but Josh cuts her off.

“I’m the captain, and I say be here at eight a.m. No excuses, unless you want to run laps.”

“Yes, sir.” I straight back salute him while Sam stifles a laugh.

He nods and goes to take Sam’s hand, but stops midair. “Wait… unless this is a trick.”

“Huh?”

His brow furrows again, and he jabs me with his finger. “Is this a big plan for you to bring a bunch of Trojans in? Take over our field?”

“No tricks, man,” I say with my hands up. “I need training. I think you could get me in shape.”

“Even if that’s true, I’m not sure if I should believe a Trojan.”

“Hmm…” I pull my hoodie from the crook of my arm and hold it out. “How about you take this?”

He wrinkles his nose. “What would I want with that?”

I laugh. “It’s leverage.”

“What’s ‘leverage’ mean?”

I crouch back to his level, keeping my hoodie in my fist. “It means if I come to the field with any Trojans, you get to do whatever you want to this.” I lift my sweatshirt. “And I’m pretty attached to it. So I wouldn’t want anything to happen.”

“So… you won’t bring any Trojans here because you don’t want me to ruin that?” He points to my hoodie.

“Exactly.”

He tilts his head to the side and swipes the sweatshirt from my hand. “Then I’ll take the…leverage.”

I stand back up, and Sam must’ve moved closer. My whole arm feels her body heat even though we aren’t touching.

“Okay, Josh, if you’re done questioning Tyler we should get going.”

Josh nods. “Good call, sis. I’m starving.”

I walk with them to her car, and Sam opens the back door for her brother. “Give me two seconds then we’ll go.”

He sighs. “You say two seconds, and you mean twenty minutes.”

She gives him a little shove toward the car. He throws my hoodie over his shoulder and hops into his booster—which I’m assuming he only needs because he’s so short. She leans in to make sure he’s buckled while he traces his fingers over the Trojan’s logo with a thoughtful expression. I
am
fond of that hoodie. I really hope he’s not thinking of burning it or something. When Sam shuts the car door and looks back at me, we wait for about twenty seconds before saying anything because our track record for that kid breaking the mood has been Josh: 3 Us: 0.

“Sorry about that.” She leans against the hood of the car with me. “He’s a born and raised Skyhawk.”

“You don’t say,” I tease, and she nudges my shoulder. Guess it’s time to figure out where she stands on the whole rivalry thing. “What about you?”

“Born and raised Skyhawk.”

I raise my hand. “Born and raised Trojan, here.”

“What?” Her mouth pops open in mock shock. “You mean when I saw you in that golden yellow uniform that meant you’re a
Trojan
?”

My face gets closer to hers. “Is it going to be a problem?”

It looks like she wants to keep joking, but her gaze drops to my lips, and her breathing changes. I force myself to stay cool, but I’m not sure if I succeed.

“I’m not into labels. Just don’t tell my cousin that,” she says, and then her hand snakes into her back pocket. She flicks her wicked eyes up to mine. Her fingers curl around my wrist, and she pulls my arm straight out toward her.

“Wha…?”

“Look what I found in the car,” she says, tapping a black Sharpie on the bridge of my nose. She bites the cap off and brings the cold, wet tip to the crook of my elbow. She writes ten numbers down my forearm.

I grin, trying to calm my breathing. “Don’t trust my memory?”

She shakes her head, red hair falling from her ponytail. “It’s not that.” She starts adding a football goal post at the end of the number. “I just want to make
extra
sure you have it.” She caps the Sharpie. “And if you don’t call, it better be because you lost your arm.”

“Even if I lose my arm, I’m finding a way to call you.”

“I’ll drive you to the ER.”

“I’d rather you kiss it better.”

“Not sure if that would work.”

“It’s worth a shot.”

She cocks an eyebrow. “Maybe.”

I know it’s ballsy, and Josh is sitting in the car waiting for her, but I lean in anyway. There’s something about her that draws me in, makes me want more, and makes me feel okay for wanting it, too.

What is she doing to me?

I get inches from her lips and a loud
honk!
jolts us feet away from each other.

Josh taps his wrist as if he was wearing a watch as my heart tries to get back to normal speed.

Sam groans, pulling my eyes back to her. I try to grin and laugh it off, but my breath comes out weird.

“That’s what they’re here for,” I say.

“What?”

I nod toward the car. “Little siblings.”

“You have a little brother, too?”

“Sister.”

Her face relaxes and she smiles. “Does she like football?”

I think about Parker and her collection of those freaky Monster High dolls and Disney Princesses. “Um, no.”

“Too bad.”

“Not really. I think my mom would go insane if all of her kids were football obsessed.”

Honk!

“Okay, okay!” Sam rolls her eyes and starts walking backward to the driver door. I automatically follow her steps. “Did you want a ride?” she asks.

My eyes travel over the Skyhawks bumper stickers, and the Hilton High parking pass hanging off her rearview. It’s not the most welcome car in my neck of the woods.

“Nah, I better finish my run.”

Her gaze flicks to my stomach, and I macho man flex even though I’m not sure she can see it through my shirt.

“Can I call you tonight?” I ask.

Something flashes across her expression. Like worry or fear or something, but it’s gone in the next blink when she smiles at me and opens her door. I hear Josh in the back say, “It’s about time!”

“Just make it after nine.”

Then she gets in her car, fumbles with the key, and gives me a wave through the windshield. I wave back and watch her pull out of the parking lot, going south, while I’m about to head north.

It’s a good thing I’m not into labels either.

***

“You have to get a boyfriend before you go to the dance, Ty.”

Parker points to one of the boyfriend squares on the Barbie Prom Date game Mom forced me to play while the Eagles/Titans game echoes from the family room. Mom and Dad argued for a good half hour over whether I’d get to watch football after the suspension, and Mom won. No games till I’ve served my time on the bench.

“I don’t want that guy,” I point at the picture of Ken in a sparkly disco suit. This game was Mom’s when she was a kid.

“He’s the only one left, Ty.” Parker is the
only
person I let call me Ty. “And you
have
to have a date.”

She pulls her Cinderella blanket over her head and waits for me to backtrack from the dressing room square—to change into my prom dress I bought for two Barbie bucks, of course—but I give her my best big brother pout face. “Can’t I go stag?”

Her small nose wrinkles. “What’s stag?”

My shoulders drop and I move my Barbie piece to Disco Ken. “Never mind.” I pick up my “date” and set him over by my dress and horse drawn carriage.

Parker smiles and spins the glitter spinner. “See,
now
you’re ready for prom.”

“Nah,” my older brother, Hunter comes in and right hooks me in the shoulder. “He still needs his crown.” He leans over Parker, plucks the plastic pink-gemmed tiara thing from the center of the board game, and settles it on my head. I’m off my feet in a second to tackle him to the ground.

“Hey!” Parker leaps on my back as I get Hunter in a headlock. He punches my gut and Parker screams in my ear. “You can’t have the crown unless you win!” One of her arms tightens around my neck, blocking my airway while her other hand grapples for the crown still stuck on my noggin. Hunter’s laughing, and I knee him in the chest. His arms wrap around my middle and I want to warn him about tossing me while Parker’s still on my back.

“Wait!” I croak, trying to force out something around the chokehold my seven-year-old sister has on me. Hunter stops mid-tackle and opts for punching my gut again. Parker finally gets the crown off my head, but slips on my back and stabs my left eye with the plastic edge. I instantly let go of Hunter to press the heel of my hand to my face and let out a grunt. Holy shit, I think she gouged my eye out.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Mom shouts as Hunter and I switch spots. Now I’m being choked by a seven-year-old, head-locked by my college-age linebacker brother, and I can’t see a thing through my watery eyes. I know exactly what Mom’s reaching for, and before any of us can get hit with the spatula, we freeze, breathing hard. Or for me… just trying to breathe period.

“Parker, Hunter, off Tyler now. Tyler, pull up your pants.”

I help Parker slide from my back when Hunter lets me out of the headlock. As soon as my sister’s on the floor, I yank up my gym shorts which have slid right below my ass letting my ma get a nice view of my Green Bay boxers.

Mom sets the spatula down on the kitchen counter and shakes her head. She’s muttering under her breath when she opens the fridge.

Hunter lightly punches my shoulder as he passes me, ready for whatever food Mom’s making. He hops up on the bar, but Mom threatens him with the spatula and he jumps back down.

“Tyler,” she says, pulling out a block of cheese and salami stick—required food at our place. “Will you put your sister to bed?”

Parker hops on my back again, and I swipe at my watered eye so I can see up the stairs. I take her to Mom first for a goodnight kiss, Hunter gives her one next, then I bounce her to the family room to say goodnight to Dad and my other older brothers, Cooper and Spencer. Coop and Spence toss her around like a football, acting out actual plays until she’s laughing so hard she says she has to pee, and then she’s back on my back.

I go through Parker’s bedtime ritual, which is potty, brush teeth, brush hair, arrange all her stuffed animals in order of who her favorite is that day, then she says her prayers—out loud—and I make sure the nightlight is working before I turn off the overhead.

“Tyler?” she asks from her Care Bear bed sheets as I arrange the pillow under her head.