-23-
KAYLA
Ohio State beat Minnesota in a nail-biter, keeping us undefeated, but guess who else maintained a perfect record? I didn’t swear much, but my language was blue as I stared at the list. OSU had climbed to the number two spot in the polls, but hadn’t unseated the Wolverines. Even ESPN had them ranked number one.
Such bullshit. I could concede we didn’t have as many dazzling players on offense as Michigan did, but our offense was consistent. And our defense? We were to be feared.
Jay listened to me grumble about it all week, and then when another week rolled around, it happened again. We walloped Indiana, while the school up North handed Penn State’s asses to them. I was beyond annoyed and conflicted.
Couldn’t Michigan just lose one game, before we played them, so we could sit on top of the polls? Ugh. I wanted Jay to transfer to OSU. Not just so we could have his skills on the field, but so he could be right here.
I plugged in the dock lights in my room, climbed into my bed with a textbook, and tried to read. At ten p.m. my phone lit up with a text message from him.
Jay: Study session ran long, sorry. Okay if I crash and we talk tomorrow?
It was getting harder to find time now that the season was in full gear and we were balancing courses on top of it. We hadn’t talked other than a few texts this week. His fifteen-hour days were scheduled to the minute.
Breakfast. Class. Lunch.
Weights. Team meeting. Practice.
Dinner. Tutor session. Homework.
Only then did he get to sleep after his demanding day. As I was typing out my response, the three dots blinked, indicating he had more to say.
Jay: So tired last night. Fell asleep while jerking off.
Me: LOL! Was the porn you were looking at bad?
Jay: Wasn’t looking at porn. Was thinking about you.
Oh, good God. That turned me on to no end. I pictured him in his bed and his strong hand running down his length. Had he touched himself just as he’d shown me while leaning back against my door three weeks ago? All while he’d thought about me?
Jay: Can’t wait to see you again.
Jay: In my bed. No height restrictions.
I was looking forward to seeing him too, although I hadn’t told anyone about it. Not even Chuck.
Me: Height restrictions? Is that a short person joke?
Jay: No. We both know you’re tall enough to ride.
I snorted, but heat also simmered in my body at the memory of being on top of him. Suddenly, Saturday couldn’t come fast enough. I’d been dreading it the whole week, but all I needed was incentive. Going to the Michigan game might be the equivalent of a double root canal, but getting to be with Jay afterward would be my earned reward.
Me: Rest up, 88. I plan on multiple rides this weekend.
My stomach churned with unease as I shut and locked the door of my Kia Rio. I’d sort of hoped my car would break down during the three-hour drive up here. Or my Ohio State loyalty would jolt me like an invisible training collar as I crossed the border into the enemy’s state.
It was pleasant for October. Partly sunny and a light breeze, meaning I could wear a t-shirt and jeans. Picking out what to wear had been difficult. I wasn’t sure if I should dress to impress his parents, and in the end, I went with comfort. I slung my purse on a shoulder, stared at the screen of my phone to confirm where I was going, and then willed myself to put one foot in front of the other, shuffling toward the outskirts of the U-M campus.
I’d parked in a lot far away from the stadium, but it was already full of cars, and I reluctantly followed the mob of fans. A guy glanced at me and confusion was broadcasted on his face.
“A little early for a Halloween costume, isn’t it?” he asked.
I smiled, and he shrugged, moving off. I ignored the other looks I got, some accompanied with a what the fuck yell, and I trudged along. The crowd grew dense as we moved closer, and I kept my head down, studying the GPS. I’d only been here once before, during my sophomore year, and we’d gone from the buses straight into the stadium.
The tailgating area was bustling, and smoke from grills hazed upward. Blue temporary shades had been erected and staked down on the grassy lot beside trucks and SUVs, and Michigan flags flapped in the breeze as people lounged in folding chairs, drinking beer.
During gameday, my family did this same thing. Up until my freshman year, I’d tailgated with them, and I hadn’t realized how much I missed it until this moment. Cheerleading was amazing, but it could be stressful. Tailgating was a party. A way to relax and hang with friends while the promise of a win hung in the air just as much as the smell of brats and hamburgers cooking.
Only, this wasn’t relaxing. I spotted the tent I was looking for and slapped on my game face.
The conversation died as the two men standing behind the grill spotted me. The older of the two lifted his bushy eyebrows in surprise. “Jay wasn’t kidding when he said you’d be easy to spot. You must be Kayla.”
He wasn’t as tall as his son, but Jay’s father was a bear of a man. His hair was short and gray, parted neatly on the side. His Michigan football shirt did little to conceal his extra pounds around the middle, but he had kind eyes, a paler shade of blue than his son’s.
“He told you about this, right?” I said, gesturing to my scarlet Ohio State t-shirt. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Harris.” I thrust my hand out, trying to seem confident.
“Call me Noah.” He shook my hand with a firm grip, and I relaxed a few degrees. Wearing the shirt had been a gamble, but I wanted to make a statement and announce my loyalty. I was here for Jay, not his football team. Noah seemed to find the shirt amusing, rather than offensive.
“Diane is around here somewhere.” He craned his neck, looking around for his wife, and then shrugged. “You want something to eat? To drink?”
“Uh . . .” I was still at that stage where it felt weird to drink beer with adults. “What are you drinking?”
Noah smiled. “There’s beer and pop in the cooler. Help yourself.”
The younger man flipped a burger on the grill, and he leveled his gaze at me. “What’s with the shirt? Did you lose a bet?”
“No,” Noah said before I could answer. “This is Jay’s girlfriend. She goes to Ohio State.”
Wait, what? Had Jay told his parents I was his girlfriend, or had they just assumed?
Noah gestured to the tall, athletic-looking man who was probably in his late forties. “Kayla, this is Mike Radcliff.”
We stared at each other with the same amount of shock, and I think we both tried to hide our disgust.
“Radcliff?” I repeated with dread. “Is your son Evan Radcliff?”
“Yes.” He looked proud I knew the name.
How the hell had Jay failed to mention his parents tailgated with the family of Michigan’s starting QB?
This was bad.
I hated Radcliff almost as much as I did Michigan. He was a slippery quarterback, ducking out of sacks and sensing pressure even when it was coming on his six. His offensive line never got holding penalties, giving Radcliff hours to just hang out in the pocket and wait for a man to get open.
Of course, one of those men was Jay.
Without Radcliff, who knew what kind of shot he’d have at going pro?
“My son’s got a hell of an arm.” Mr. Radcliff’s expression was pompous. “Of course, if you watched The Game last year, you already know that.”
I bit down on the inside of my cheek to keep myself from exploding. Wearing the shirt was an invitation for confrontation, and I was surprised I’d made it as far as I had without being challenged. Were Michigan fans soft this year?
I’d tucked a thin gray zip-up hoodie in my purse and pulled it out now, slipping an arm into a sleeve. I was comfortable defending my school, but I didn’t want Jay’s parents to be called out just by association. That wasn’t fair to them. As I zipped the hoodie closed, Mr. Radcliff scrutinized me and looked pleased when my t-shirt was covered.
“There she is,” Noah said. “Diane, Kayla’s here.”
Jay’s mother wasn’t much taller than I was. She was pretty, with soft brown hair and the same dazzling smile her son had. She looked younger than I expected. I never would have guessed she was nearly sixty.
“Oh my goodness, isn’t she cute?” she said to her husband. When I offered my hand, she ignored it and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. “I’m a hugger.”
“It’s nice to”—her hug was ferocious and squeezed the words from me—“meet you.”
Air poured back into my body as she released me and stepped back. Noah was big, but I wondered if Jay’s physical strength came from his mom.
We made small talk for a while, asking each other about the drive into town, and then Jay’s parents were interested in my classes and major. Mrs. Radcliff appeared shortly after, decked out head-to-toe in Michigan attire. I took a sip of my beer to hold my gag reflex back.
Coming to this game was way harder than I’d anticipated. I wanted to strangle myself with a Michigan banner when six shirtless guys wandered past, their doughy bodies painted blue and each with a yellow letter on their bellies that spelled “Go Blue.” It couldn’t be unseen.
We ate hamburgers and played cornhole, and whenever the conversation drifted toward how great Michigan’s football program was, I mentally tuned out. Jay was going to owe me so big for agreeing to tailgate with his parents solo. What the hell had I been thinking?
Mr. Radcliff eyed me through lunch like I was a leper. “Is this your first game in the Big House?” he asked.
“I’m a Buckeye cheerleader, so I saw The Game from the sidelines here my sophomore year.” I didn’t love how he looked down on me, and the dig came out before I could stop myself. “I can’t remember. Did Evan start that game?”
He hadn’t. I deliberately ignored most Wolverine players, but the QB was always on my radar. Evan Radcliff had a rough road toward earning his starting position. Too many interceptions and bad handoffs got him benched the last two games of that year.
A nasty scowl streaked across his father’s face. “No,” he snapped. “The offensive line never found their rhythm that season.”
Typical. He was going to blame the O-line when it was obvious where the real issue lay.
Radcliff brightened abruptly. “They’re certainly clicking this year, aren’t they? Undefeated.” His tone was downright evil, and his grin made me want to strangle him with the Michigan banner. “And ranked number one.”
“Polls don’t mean shit,” I announced, echoing Jay’s statement, and then froze.
Oops.
Thankfully, Noah’s eyes sparkled as he laughed. “He mentioned you were a firecracker, and you certainly don’t disappoint.”