INTERCEPTION
Lucas
THE TIME WAS now.
Somehow Coach had gotten pads and helmets sanctioned for one scrimmage before the two week lift.
The practice game was about to start.
It would be the first of the year in full pads. Something I had been looking forward to, and dreading, at the same time.
I’d skipped out on Gillian the past few mornings. I’d seen her throughout the practices, but hadn’t acknowledged her.
I was being an asshole, but I didn’t know what else to be. I didn’t want to ruin her reputation. I didn’t want to get caught. The only solution was to stay away from her.
Deep in thought, I was gripping a football with my right hand and standing on a perfectly manicured grass field in my cleats, contemplating what I’d done. This object in my hand was my world. This oval shaped ball made of leather, sewn together by white strings had been my dream since I was ten years old.
There was no way I could let anything get in the way of achieving it.
My entire life I had longed to be better. Faster, rougher, tougher. What I was, what I had become, it was never enough.
I was never enough.
Not enough for my mother to stick around, and not enough for my father to snap out of his depression and participate in my life. If it weren’t for my brother, I had no idea where I would have ended up.
In a gutter.
In jail.
In a coffin.
Who the fuck knew.
But being here, right now, in this moment, I felt I was finally enough for the first time in my life.
A million guys would give their nuts to be me, and although I hadn’t been thrilled about it at first, I certainly had come around after I thought I might lose it all.
That’s why the thought of risking it all for a girl who would be out of my life in five more weeks didn’t make much sense. It would be a stupid move.
Right?
A hand hit my shoulder. “Hey, man. How’s it going?” the player said as he paused to stand beside me. It was Greg Wilkinson, linebacker and team captain.
That question deserved a sly grin. “Fucking fantastic.”
He nodded. “I feel you, man. You ready to do this?”
“Sure, it sounds like fun.”
That gave him cause to raise a brow. “Fun,” he laughed. “I’m not sure about that. Coach will be on anyone’s ass who doesn’t know their shit.”
I pulled out my playbook, the one I’d flipped through more than a dozen times, and that was just this morning. “Sounds like even more fun,” I joked.
“I hope you still think that when it’s over,” he laughed, but then turned serious. “Hey man, the first week is the most brutal, and that’s behind us, but cuts start today and I’m going to be honest, they suck. Suck for everyone.”
I glanced across the field. “Yeah, the mood is pretty somber around here.”
Greg clapped me on the shoulder again. “Get used to it, and don’t dwell. It will only bring you down.”
I nodded. “Appreciate the advice.”
“Anytime, man,” he called as he ran toward the center of the field with his helmet in his hand.
Cuts were going to suck, no doubt about it. Then again, just about everything sucked in my life right now.
Greg started yelling, “It’s fucking go time.”
The laugh I had was one I needed, but it was time to get real. I flipped open the playbook in my hand and did some last-minute studying. I didn’t want Coach on my ass . . . for any reason.
Kick-off came fast.
There were no warm ups outside of our earlier practice. Coach decided the teams. I was orange. Among those on my team were Thor, Preacher, and Kutch, who I was keeping my eye on since he was keeping his eye on Gillian, who was on the sidelines.
The blue team roster had way more vets than ours, and I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, but I was about to find out.
Coin toss went to blue. They elected to receive. I was on the sidelines, watching. On the third play of the game, our defensive end picked off Swann, blue’s quarterback, and returned the ball for a touchdown.
Unfucking believable!
We were ahead.
When it was time for me to hit the field, I was nervous. I called the plays in the huddle, yelled the signals at the line of scrimmage, and then received the ball from the center.
The play was textbook all the way.
When I handed the ball off to the running back, he ran with it until he was tackled. Three plays later I huddled the offense and told them we were going to score. And then we were going to score again. And again. And fucking again.
Hey, I could build confidence.
Scoring didn’t happen quite that easy, but sure as shit, by the fifth play, I knew I had it. Dropping back, I was ready to throw the ball, but veteran player Dion Reynolds wasn’t in position, and in a matter of seconds, I had to change the game plan.
I looked across the field, but another one of the wide receivers was also covered. I pump-faked to him as I scanned down the middle, but found no one. With only seconds to spare, I looked right, where fuck, I saw Gillian on the sidelines.
After losing focus for a moment, or maybe gained it, I bounced back on my toes and let the ball fly right to Kutch. He caught it in stride and raced to the end zone, where he fucking did a little dance and then looked toward Gillian. I knew he winked at her, even if I couldn’t see it.
This made my blood boil. She was fucking mine, and he better stay away.
Wait!
What?
She wasn’t mine. I’d decided it was best to end things before they started, hadn’t I?
Fueled by this demon inside me, I played the rest of the game like a man on one hell of a mission.
The fourth quarter blew by in a flash. We were up 22–14, and with one minute remaining, all I had to do was run the clock out, and that’s what I did.
Game over.
I fist pumped the air and caught Gillian’s gaze. She was staring at me, and she had the most genuine happiness over the win written all over her face. That’s when I started to second-guess my decision.
She was on my team. My side. And it felt good to have someone in my corner.
Maybe I shouldn’t stay away.
Maybe I couldn’t.
“Don’t start celebrating,” Coach yelled, and we gathered for our usual end-of-practice midfield verbal haranguing.
Coach expected mathematic perfection from his players. We’d learned over the past week that most often, whatever the players did wasn’t quite right. Looked like today wasn’t going to be an exception.
There was always something to improve, even when you got the job done. Don’t make a mistake, and you won’t get yelled at . . . that was the Holy Grail.
Every play of this practice would be watched on film by the whole team tonight after dinner. Whoever made mistakes, they would be pointed out and discussed. And discussed, and discussed even more.
Nothing slipped through the cracks. Depending on the severity of the mistake, and the frequency of the mistake, the reaction from Coach would vary.
Didn’t matter, the feeling for the player up front and center was always horrible. Being called out in meetings and having everyone in the room watching you fail in slow motion was demoralizing. Then again, it worked. Most of us never made the same mistake twice.
Coach looked especially pissed off today. “This afternoon was a complete failure,” he yelled. “You guys get the opportunity to show me what you got, and you shit all over it. I can’t even watch another minute. I’m calling this practice over.”
After that he walked away in disgust. Guess a, “Great game, boys,” would be too much to ask for.
Whatever.
“That second touchdown should have been mine.”
I whipped my head around to see Reynolds marching toward me. Dion Reynolds was probably the biggest name left on the team. Uncuttable was how the vets referred to him. Arrogant prick was what I called him. At six-foot four, and two hundred and forty pounds, sure he had some meat on me, I’d give him that. But like I cared. “You weren’t in position,” I responded, void of any emotion.
“The fuck I wasn’t,” he yelled.
At first, I was just going to ignore him. It took too much energy to fight, and who the hell had any left.
“You might look like Tom Brady, but you’re no Brady, kid, and you better learn that real fast.”
Okay, there was no way I was going to let that comment pass. Lean wasn’t skinny. Besides, the whole you’re the next Tom thing was getting old. Already irritated, I leaned in close. “That play was by the book. You might want to open it.”
He got up in my face and bared his teeth. “You. Did. It. Wrong. You’re the one who needs to study the fucking book.”
Deadpan, I repeated. “You weren’t in position.”
By now, this had become a scene.
“Say it again, rookie, and you won’t have to worry about saying another thing,” he hissed.
I stood there, looking him straight in the eye, and then folded my arms. “You. Weren’t. In. Position.”
The look he gave me told me we were about to settle this a different way.
“Cut the shit,” Preacher shouted as he shimmied his way between the both of us and pushed Reynolds out of my space.
A few guys started laughing. Others were already stomping off the fields. Some weren’t even paying attention.
Surprisingly, Reynolds turned around and stomped off, muttering to himself. “Whatever. You’re not worth it. You’ll be gone soon enough.”
Preacher put a hand on my shoulder. “Want some advice?”
This guy was cool, and I had respect for him, so I said, “Sure.”
“Don’t fuck with the unfuckable. Reynolds is a diva and we all know it’s better to just walk away. He gets off on provoking whoever he can. Don’t feed into it.”
I kicked my toes in the grass. “Good to know.”
He slapped me on the back. “That was the right play.”
Okay, so I felt a little full of myself, I’ll admit.
Just then two guys started going at it. This time it turned into an actual fist fight. It was Reynolds and Kutch. Fuck, of course it was.
Preacher hauled ass over there. There were a few shoves and a couple of punches, but as soon as Preacher tore them apart, they backed away from each other.
“You catch like a bitch,” Reynolds spat at Kutch.
“Reynolds, fucking shut up!” Preacher said, and Reynolds shut the fuck up.
Incredible.
It was noted, Preacher was a good friend to have.
Just as I turned to march off the field myself, I spotted Dallas and Gillian with Swann, my backup, and he was shuffling off the field. He didn’t look good. In fact, he looked a little stiff. Injured even? I wasn’t sure.
Thor came jogging after me. When he caught up, he pointed toward Swann. “Did you hear?”
I bobbed my chin in his direction. “No. What happened?”
“Groin injury.” He winced.
“Shit. How bad?”
He shook his head. “No clue. I guess we’ll find out soon. You headed in?”
Under the still-blistering five o’clock sun, I nodded, and we both walked over to the fitness center without saying another word. It was likely Swann was going to be the first to go, and that meant I had no backup.
For some reason, this made it seem like I was invincible, but in fact meant the complete opposite. Whoever replaced him could easily try to vie for first string. Swann just wasn’t good enough to surpass me. I knew that from the first day. Whoever was coming up next, could be an entirely different story.
At my locker, I was just about ready to hit the shower when Aiden, the assistant trainer, walked in.
“Hey, Lucas,” he called.
“Yeah,” I answered, expecting to be blasted after not having shown up this morning for my session with Gillian.
“I really think you should hit the cold tub before you head out.”
Okay, that was better than what I had expected, but not much. I nodded. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”
I knew he wasn’t asking.
Gillian had tried to get me to go in it a couple of times. She insisted it would help my muscles repair quicker, but I had refused. Come on, submerging waist-deep in a pool of water set to forty-seven degrees would do more than make your blood vessels constrict, it would make your balls shrivel. Who in the hell would ever volunteer to do that in front of a girl they’re into? Not me, but I guessed I was about to go anyway.
Fanfuckingtastic.
“You coming?” I asked Thor who was already headed to the shower, where the rest of the team was.
“Fuck no,” he said. “We have ninety minutes of free time today and I have a phone date.” He grinned.
“Thanks for the heads up.”
“Anytime.”
I shook my head at him.
He shrugged. “You know I have to keep my ladies happy.”
“Ladies? As in more than one?” I stupidly asked.
With a nod, he said, “Rebecca and Honey.”
Now it was making sense why he was on the phone all the fucking time. He had more than one girlfriend.
“Whatever,” I said.
“Hey, don’t be jelly, man.”
I slammed my locker. “Dude, jealous isn’t even on my radar. I’m thinking about the shit you’re going to be in when they both come here to watch you play next week.”
Trace Wentworth went a little blank and I think he might have shit his pants had he been wearing any.
I laughed all the way to the cold tub.
In my gym shorts and T-shirt, I stared down at it.
Through the glass I noticed Swann, and a veteran tight end named Jon Hanover, both lying on training tables, receiving treatment.
Ice, electric stimulation, ultrasound.
And Gillian was there along with the other two interns, whose names I couldn’t recall, along with Aiden and Dallas. Liam wasn’t around. Then again, he never seemed to be. Not my business.
Gillian caught my stare and stared back at me for a moment too long because Drake noticed and nudged her.
Did he know?
Quickly, I looked away and glared down at the pool of cold water. I really didn’t want to do this, but I knew I should. It might be just what I needed. My shoulder was almost back to normal, and I had that girl in the next room to thank for it. The same girl I’d made come the other night. And the same one I wanted to do it to again.
The girl who kissed me like no one ever had.
I peered up, needing to see her, and this time when I did, the team physician was with Swann, who was being put on a gurney. Swann looked grim and by the look on his face, I knew he wasn’t coming back.
Fuck me.
I glared down at the water again, and then finally, I poked my toe in. Yep, sure enough it felt like Lake Michigan in March.
Fucking great.
Slowly, I descended a couple of steps and stood there, arms resting on the ledge. “Fuckkkkkkkkkk,” I stammered to stifle my screams.
Something had me peering through the glass again, and when I did, I found Gillian, arms crossed, and smirking at me. Aiden was just finishing putting a brace on Hanover, and she was next to him, casually looking toward me.
When I caught her gaze, she covered her mouth to hide her smile, and something strange happened within me. It was a feeling or an emotion I couldn’t decipher, or didn’t want to, who knew.
What I did know was Aiden catching Gillian would be way worse than getting caught by Drake.
Drake was harmless.
Aiden, not so much.
With that, I turned my back to her for more than just that reason. The tent in my pants was about to become obvious, and unfortunately I knew just how to take care of it.
As I plunged into the cold water, I couldn’t help but think how this was new territory for me. Never had I been in this position.
Not to sound insensitive or uncaring, but except for the purpose of pleasing my dick, I never really paid any attention to women. Other than my sister-in-law, Tess, I didn’t really even engage in much conversation with the opposite sex.
Being the quarterback of the football team, in both high school and college, had many benefits, and girls at the ready was one of them.
If I wanted a handy, I just had to go to the student center. If I felt like a blowie, the library was always a good choice, and if I wanted to fuck, all I had to do was hang out after a game. The offers were never ending and the strings were unattached.
Shit, I thought the notoriety was crazy then, but now I knew it wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg when you entered the NFL.
Between mini-camp and training camp, a couple of vets on the team took me to a club, where we sat in the VIP section. The girls who they had invited were giving hand jobs to every single one of us under the table. They were also all too eager to hook up in the bathroom, the car, or anywhere, for that matter.
For no reason, I replayed the other night with Gillian in my mind. I wasn’t in a hurry for her to do any of those things to me. What I was in hurry to do was take care of her.
She was fucking with my head and she didn’t even know it.
When my feet and toes began to feel numb, I figured it was time to stop thinking about a chick, since chances were good my dick was at the bottom of the tub anyway, and get out of the water.
After I reached for my towel and wrapped it around my waist, I couldn’t resist turning around.
The training room was empty, and if I had thought I was going to get another glimpse of Gillian, or a goodbye, or even a drop dead, I was wrong.
Disappointment surged in my veins. Not a sensation I’d felt in a very long time. I hated the feeling.
Practically shaking from the cold water, I hustled to the locker room, which was now empty. Everyone more than likely taking advantage of the extra free time. I should hurry and catch up with them, but I something was slowing me down.
Not something.
Someone.
Even as I hit the hot shower, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. While the warm water sprayed over me, I let my thoughts wander to places they shouldn’t.
To her.
In order to force myself to stop, I turned the water all the way to the right.
To cold.
But even the shock of that didn’t suppress the image in my mind of her thighs squeezing mine as she hovered above me, looking at me like she couldn’t wait for me to take her, possess her, own her.
And fuck, I wanted to.
I really did.