Secret Catch (6 page)

I thought I’d lucked out by not getting kicked off the team, but Coach must’ve known this was a worse punishment—staying on the team and not playing a damn minute. The game hasn’t even started yet. It’s just game
day
, and I feel like shit already. I know I should be going all out with my teammates, stoked to suit up and jog on the field tonight, but I feel like my tie is choking the life out of me. My decorated locker—courtesy of the cheerleaders—seems like a punch in the face.

“School needs to be shorter on game days.” Fredrickson pulls his phone out and starts tapping his keyboard. I maneuver through people in the hallway as he smacks into them. “It’s bad enough it’s Friday, and been one hell of a week, but now we gotta get our asses on the field and Coach expects us to win without you or Jaco—”

He plows right into a girl’s open locker door, slamming it shut with his face. She lets out a yelp, and I crack up, while Fredrickson apologizes over and over.

“Put away your damn phone,” I tell him, punching him in the shoulder. He shoves back, but tucks his cell in his pocket.

“Sorry,” he says to Locker Girl again. Her cheeks darken, and she mumbles something that sounds like she’s fine, and then heads down the hall, getting lost in the crowd.

He turns back to me, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “What were we talking about?”

“Oh you were pussy moaning again,” I joke, adjusting my tie as we round the corner to the locker room. I guess the plus about being on the team and not playing is I still get to put on that golden yellow and strip out of this business man shit Coach makes us wear.

Fredrickson loosens his tie, too. “Shut up. You know Granger is gonna wipe the field clean tonight. Jacoby’s the only player with the speed to take down number eighty-two. That guy’s a machine.”

Damn it, he’s right, but I don’t agree with him out loud. Not the best thing to beat one of our player’s morale down before a game. “If we stick Young on the Granger quarterback, I bet he won’t even get the ball to eighty-two half the game.”

He tosses his head at me, giving me the look like he knows I’m feeding him shit to make him feel better, but he doesn’t call me out on it.

“Have you seen him yet?”

My brow crinkles as we turn into the gym. “Jacoby?”

“Yup.”

“I saw him last night. He was pretty out of it.” I snort, thinking about how he told me he’d kick my ass if I ever looked at his sister again. His sister is thirty-one, married, and when she came in the room, all I said to her was, “Is he on Loritab?” Apparently that’s a pick-up line.

“How’s the leg?” Fredrickson asks, ripping his tie off and stuffing it in his pocket.

“Snapped.” My smile fades. “He’s got a cast from his foot all the way up to his knee.”

“Did you draw a dick on it?”

“I believe that’s your signature move.”

“Then I better pay him a visit before he’s off the drugs so I don’t have to pin him down.”

We laugh as I push the locker room door open with my shoulder, and our laughter echoes off the walls for about two seconds, then it shuts off altogether.

“What the
hell
?” I spit through my teeth. Our entire locker room is trashed. Soggy toilet paper litters the floor and walls, along with shaving cream. Half the locker doors hang from their hinges, and our uniforms have been spray painted. Jacoby’s is strung up in the center of the room with the word
Pussy
splayed over his last name—then the image of said word over his number.

Blood’s pounding in my ears, heat fuming up the back of my neck. Fredrickson is shaking next to me, and he reaches down to one of our Trojan helmets, gazing inside to what looks like a condom. He chucks the helmet across the room, and it smacks an open locker, the crash sounding out into the gym.

I’m afraid to move, thinking maybe I’ll blink and it’ll disappear. But after I squeeze my eyes shut and open them, it’s still all there.

“We’ve gotta find Bean,” Fredrickson huffs next to me, hands curled in fists by his side. He storms out the door, but gets blocked by Levenstein and Daniels. They push past him, and after cursing under his breath, Daniels rushes to the center of the room and pulls Jacoby’s jersey down. He runs his fingers over the paint and holds his thumb out.

Still wet.

“Go tell the rest of the team before they get here.” His dark eyes flick up. “Go!”

I trip backwards on some wet toilet paper, but I keep my footing. Levenstein, Fredrickson, and I bolt through the gym. I tell them to take the North and South halls while I go down East and West. My adrenaline fuels my muscles as I pump down the hallways to find the rest of the guys. Woods and Gunderson have Biology last, so they’ll be on my route. My heart’s in an all-out panic. How the hell did they get in our locker room? And what is their problem with Jacoby? I don’t even care about all that shit. I just want to find a Skyhawk and lay him out with one punch again.

My feet squeak to a stop in the middle of Golden East D Hall. My breath comes in sharp gasps. What if it’s not about Jacoby? What if it’s about…
me
?

I stand there staring at the tile racking my brain. It was just Sam and her brother at the field when he saw my Trojan hoodie—but maybe someone else saw us. That could be true, since I was so distracted by her long legs and sexy lips. Any Skyhawk Varsity player would recognize me.

Or did she tell her cousin? Would she do that? How close are they? Shit… this could be
my
fault.

“Koontz? You all right, man?”

I flick my gaze to Woods. I hadn’t even noticed he’d come right up to me. His brows knit together, and I exhale so my voice doesn’t shake with anger…panic… or whatever mix of the two I’m experiencing.

“Skyhawks got into the locker room.”

***

Coach Bean looks around, stepping on condoms, toilet paper, shaving cream, and who the hell knows what. His jaw is tightly clenched as our team hangs out along the back wall in our dress shirts and ties. I have an itch on my cheek I’m dying to scratch, but I’m afraid to move a muscle.

Something crunches under his foot, and each of us wince because we don’t know what it was, but Coach’s face flushes redder than I’ve ever seen. He turns to us, eyes blazing fire.

“Coach Rivera, do you still have the practice jerseys in your office?”

Our defense coach adjusts his hat and gives a sharp nod. He waves at Fredrickson to follow him. When they’ve made their way to the back offices, Coach Bean looks at us.

“If someone knows anything about this, speak now. Because I
will
find out. And if you’re the one responsible, and you say nothing, I’m forfeiting the season.”

Several of the guys open their mouths in protest.

“Coach, it was the Skyhawks.”

“They hate us.”

“Those Skyhawks just want to mess with us.”

I keep my mouth shut and stare at the words
“Trojans are only good for dicks”
painted across the offensive line lockers.

“Quiet!” Coach shouts, and it echoes as the team shuts their traps. He bends down and picks up Daniels’ jersey with the N-word written across it. “Did you guys do something to them?”

“No, Coach,” we echo in unison.

Bean keeps Daniels jersey in his hand, eyes softening as does his voice. “If you know something and come forward, you’ll save the rest of your teammates. So I’d talk now.”

No one says a word. I’m not one-hundred percent sure it
is
my fault, so I bite my tongue. If Coach found out this was about a girl, he’d go ape-shit. Coach Rivera comes in with the box of practice jerseys.

After a minute of silence, Bean chucks Daniels’ jersey off to the side. “Suit up,” he growls. “We have a game to play.”

Then he stomps to his office, the door slamming so loud it makes a loose locker fall off its hinge and crash to the floor.

The guys and I start sorting through the shit, each player finding his jersey with a fresh phrase on it. I dig through everything to find mine, pretty sure Nolan has some choice words for me, but after all the cleaning and suiting up in our practice uniforms, my eighty-eight jersey is nowhere to be found.

***

I keep telling myself we were doomed to lose anyway, but we were squashed. My beyond clean practice jersey is stuffed in my duffel, since Coach told us not to keep anything in the locker room till the locks were changed. So I’m hauling my shit to my pickup, hoping Sam’s okay with me being a little late.

She waved from the bleachers, and I did an ass move and just head-nodded back. But I’m terrified of getting her involved—if I haven’t already—and if Skyhawks were in the crowd, even though they had their own game, I just… I couldn’t risk that.

I texted her while I packed my stuff up, letting her know where I’d be and she should meet me. But I’m freaking out that even the dark parking lot isn’t safe.

I shut the truck door and blow out a breath. I feel like banging my face against the window, but cold fingers wrap around my eyes as warm lips touch my ear.

“A Trojan better watch his back out here,” she whispers, sending chills down my spine. “Or any Skyhawk could just sneak up behind him.”

I try to smile at the joke, but suddenly the rivalry doesn’t seem so funny anymore. Twisting around, I pull her hands down, keeping them locked in mine, and try to pay attention to how gorgeous this girl is and how she makes me feel.

Her smile drops as her eyes flick over my face. “Are you okay?”

I nod. “Yep. Just sucks to lose.”
And get your uniform stolen.

She turns her lips up again and takes a step closer. I love that she’s tall. It puts her mouth closer to mine. “Well, I’ll just have to cheer you up, then.”

“I think it’s already working.” The words are out to comfort her, even make me feel like they’re true, but I can’t help but panic that we’re standing so close together in the school parking lot where anyone could see.

“You’re such a liar.” She flicks my nose, and I jolt back. The fact that she can read me so well so fast loosens the panic in me, and replaces it with something else I haven’t really felt before. Her warm, brown irises shine a bit as she twists me around so I can open the truck door for her. “I’m hungry. You said something about pizza?”

Shit. I was going to take her to the team’s place, not even thinking about what could happen if I did. I mean, the guys probably would’ve been cool with her before… before today. But now…

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Um…” I croak. “Yeah, but I’m actually… I mean, do you mind if we get something to go?”

She gives me a funny look, and I don’t blame her. As far as first dates go, this one probably isn’t starting off real well.

I suck in a breath and set my arm above the door frame to lean into her. She has to know I’m still into her—
way
into her—I’m just scared to think about what could happen if she gets stuck in the middle.

“I… well, I want to be alone with you.” I focus on her eyes, because it’s true. I want to get to know her without the constant checking over our shoulders. I want her to get to know me, too.

Her breathing changes, and I wonder if I’ve scared her, but she inches closer to me, gaze locked on mine. “I want that, too.”

I weave my fingers through the strands of her red hair and wrap my hand around the back of her head. She holds her breath as I pull her toward me, and she smells like tootsie rolls and Pepsi. For the first time today, I feel good. Better than good. I feel bizarrely complete, which is weird to even think about because the only thing that makes me feel even close to this is football. It equally scares the shit out of me and excites the hell out of me.

Our lips graze, and a flash of headlights jolts me back.

“Koontz!”

Without using my brain at all, I push Sam into the passenger seat and stand in front of the window, blocking her from sight.

“Uh, hey.” I squint through the dark and make out Daniels’ head poking from his Civic.

“Team meeting at the field tomorrow at nine.”