-30-
KAYLA
Our next game was at Nebraska, and after we won, I sat in the hotel room I had volunteered as tribute to share with Lisa. No one else wanted to room with her, so as captain, I took that bullet. It worked out, kind of. She was still the only one on the squad who knew about Jay. After the disaster with my parents, I wasn’t too keen on sharing my boyfriend’s identity with anyone else.
Lisa flopped down on the bed overly dramatically. “Tell me your boyfriend lost today.”
I was still conflicted whenever Jay won. “No, sorry.”
She groaned. “Son of a bitch. Who’d they play?”
“Minnesota.”
“Was it at least close?”
I glanced at the screen of my phone. “Twenty-eight to three.”
“They need to lose a game.” She lifted on her bent elbows and glared at me. “What are you doing to make that happen?”
Just what was she implying? “Excuse me?”
“Can’t you, like, get him sick or something? Screw him into exhaustion?”
It was so ridiculous I almost laughed, but then I had a better idea. I tapped a few times on my phone and held it up. It rang.
Lisa sat up abruptly. “What are you doing?”
Jay came onscreen, but he wasn’t in his room. The background was noisy and dimly lit. A bar? He smiled at me. “Hey, sexy.”
“Hey. This is Lisa.” I turned the phone in my hand so Lisa and Jay could see each other. “She just told me I should screw you until you’re too tired to win your next game.”
She scowled at me, but Jay laughed. “I’ve got mad stamina, Lisa, but I’m all for it if Kayla wants to give your plan a shot.”
She looked disgusted, pushed up off the bed, and went into the bathroom in a huff. I turned the phone back so it was on me. “Where are you?”
“Out with Darius and a few other—”
A hand with painted nails latched onto Jay’s arms and a pretty brunette came into view. She grinned seductively and lifted a carefully manicured eyebrow as she peered at his phone. “What are you watching?”
“I’m having a conversation with my girlfriend.” He looked down at the hand on his arm, and then back at the brunette. “Goodbye.”
His expression was firm. Disappointment only lasted a moment, and the girl slipped away, probably off to find a new mark.
“Wow,” I said.
“I’ve given up being nice to them. It saves time.” He took a sip of his beer. “I didn’t want to come out tonight, but Darius said it was a good idea. Teambuilding and shit.”
Jay glazed over the finer details, but he’d mentioned last week that some of his dumber teammates had gotten drunk and razed his room. As captain, it forced Darius to bring down the hammer and stop any catastrophic threats to team unity.
In the background, the bar suddenly got loud. People were cheering and hollering.
“What’s happening?”
Jay craned his neck. “Evan just got here.”
“Great,” I chewed out. “That should keep the hoes busy.” Although, I knew there were plenty of eager girls wanting to get with players no matter their position, and Jay was so much hotter than Michigan’s quarterback. It was a little terrifying thinking about my boyfriend being out in public on campus.
“How’s it going with your family?”
“It’s going,” I said. “Cooper’s been sending me texts all week. ‘Dad turned your room into a yoga studio’ and ‘Mom’s meeting with a lawyer to cut you out of the will.’ Good stuff.”
He gave me a strained smile. “Are you still doing dinner after the game with them next Saturday?”
“They haven’t revoked my status in the family yet, so yeah. I’m planning to go.”
We won.
Again.
Our winning streak played no small part in helping me out when I met my family at the Buckeye Bar. My parents took a page from my playbook and pretended I wasn’t dating a guy from Michigan. It was the first stage of grief: denial. I let them, because it meant things were relatively normal. Mom got on Cooper’s case about his phone addiction, and Dad talked about the coaching staff’s excellent play calling. Things were spectacularly okay-ish.
They didn’t ask any questions about Jay. Not a single one. When the highlights of the Michigan game played on the flat screen near us, my mom glared at me as if I had somehow allowed the Wolverines to roll through Indiana’s defense.
On Monday, we stayed number two in the AP poll, although the smarter sports commentators argued the case how Ohio State should be ranked over Michigan. I was annoyed about it as I hustled to practice at the fieldhouse, and since it was November, it was cold and rainy outside, adding to my irritation.
Plus, I hadn’t seen Jay in person in weeks.
Three very long weeks. Our travel schedules didn’t align at all. Even our chats were short and the texts less frequent. Balancing it with school and our sports was getting harder every day.
Some practices everyone was in just the right mood and focused, and today was one of them. The energy from our undefeated season propelled us forward. We’d finished a full run of our routines, and I wanted to repeat it.
“C’mon, guys,” I said enthusiastically, trying to amp them up. “Let’s get it perfect for the Rose Bowl.”
Lisa wiped a hand over her sweaty forehead. “Never going to be perfect with Courtney landing that back tuck on her knees.”
I shot daggers at Lisa. Her attitude had improved marginally, but she never missed an opportunity to call someone else out.
“Knock it off, Lisa.”
“Sorry.” She didn’t even look at Courtney as she delivered her shitty apology. “And we’re not going know who’s going to playoffs until The Game,” she whined. “It’s like 2006 all over again.”
She was right. OSU and Michigan had both been undefeated coming into The Game in 2006, but Ohio State had been ranked number one. It’d been close, but we’d won that game at home. Would Michigan’s winning streak hold out like ours? Could we beat them in their own house? I put the thought out of my mind. I had enough mixed feelings whenever Jay played, and wasn’t ready to think about how I’d handle The Game.
“Can we run that last routine one more time?” I asked, searching for the clock on the far wall. Crap. Out of time. “Okay, tomorrow, then. Let’s cool down.”
The team spread out on the track and followed me as I led them in stretches. Molly, a junior standing near me, focused on the assistant coach. “What’s our report time for the booster breakfast thing?”
Heidi, the assistant coach, was leaning against the wall, but straightened at the question. “What booster breakfast thing?”
I stopped mid-stretch.
A trickle of worry inched down my spine. Heidi was new this year and still catching up on all our traditions. We always performed at the booster pancake breakfast the last home game of the season. Since my dad had been a coach, I knew a lot of the boosters personally, including the president.
Who had approached me several games ago after the parade and confirmed we’d be there. I’d told the squad, but if Heidi didn’t know about it, that was a very bad sign. “Did Glenn Bauer reach out to you?”
“Who?”
“The booster president. We’re supposed to perform at their pancake breakfast before the game.” I’d made a note when I got home from the game . . . hadn’t I? I thought back, and realized it’d been the night Jay showed up at the Buckeye Bar. With everything that happened, I’d completely forgotten about it.
Heidi shook her head slowly.
“Oh, no,” I whispered.
Lisa was tuned into me from all the way across the space. “What’s wrong?”
“Where’s the breakfast?” Heidi asked, already getting to the heart of the problem. “On campus?”
“No,” Lisa answered for me. “They do it at a banquet hall over on the west side of town.”
“I can try to see if I can get a bus scheduled.” Heidi looked displeased as she pulled her phone out. “But if not, that’s not really our fault. Someone from the boosters should have given me a heads-up.”
I had the exact same feeling I did when my mistake caused a stunt to collapse. “They, uh, did. The president asked me about it a couple games ago.”
One of the freshman in the back piped up. “So, if we can’t get a bus, we’re going to have to walk? It’s like a fifteen-minute drive.”
“Way to drop the ball on that one, Captain.” Lisa’s tone was condescending. Why did she get so much pleasure reveling in other people’s mistakes? She turned to address the group as if she suddenly had all the authority in the world. “Guess we’re going to be carpooling. Show of hands: who’s sleeping with someone who owns a car?”
She put her hand up in the air and looked around for others to do so.