Lucky Number Eleven

Chapter 29

Branch

"What the fuck are they doing here?" I ask.

Chauncey and I watch as the Columbus Tigers come onto the field. The offense takes over the opposing end zone and starts to run basic plays while we watch.

"Is this Coach's surprise?" Chauncey looks at me. "He's a sadist."

Finding number seven, Callum throws a pass that spirals perfectly into the hands of a receiver. Callum raises a hand in the air before turning and finding me. He stares at me for a long minute, going so far as to take off his helmet to make it clear who he's looking at.

I wave.

My entire body shivers as a shot of testosterone mixed with adrenaline shoots though me. "It's gonna be a long day, Chauncey," I say, heading back to our huddle.

Coach is in the center of our offense with a clipboard. "Okay, boys. We're trying something different today. This will demonstrate how necessary it is for you to be willing to change it up and go with the flow, all right? I want all backs and receivers to join the Tigers' offense. All linemen and Frutter," he says, nodding to our quarterback, "down with the Tigers' defense."

Finn is across from me. Our eyes meet for a split second before he looks away.

Coach ends the huddle and we all start off to our assigned positions. I hang back a little and step in time with Finn.

"Hey," I say, looking up at him.

"What?"

"How are you?"

"Good."

"Great. That's great," I say, sarcasm thick in my voice. "When are you going to stop this?"

"Never."

Blowing out a breath, I take my assignment from the Tigers coach and line up on the outside. Finn lines up on the far side of the field. I'm too irritated with him to listen to the play Callum calls.

The play starts, the defense rushing. I break around the side only to turn around and have the ball smashing against the side of my helmet about a good four steps too early.

The ball falls to the grass, the play stopped, as I look up at the sound of my name.

"Gotta keep your head up, Best, if you want to catch it," Callum taunts, glaring at me through his facemask.

"Get the ball where it's supposed to be and I will."

We line up again. The play starts, and this time I don't even get a step off the line before the ball pelts me in the side.

This is something I could normally laugh off because he obviously looks like the idiot. But it's Callum. He's calling me out, and I'm not about to back down.

Unlatching my chin strap, I yank off my helmet. My cleats dig into the field as I march my way through the linemen and to Callum.

His helmet is off by the time I reach him, his pupils narrow.

"What the fuck?" I shout, the vein in my temple pulsing. "You got a problem, Worthington?"

"Just a receiver that can't catch a ball."

I grin, one I know he'll read into. "Oh, I can catch. I think you can't keep it within reach."

We're nose-to-nose, sweat dripping down our faces. Neither of us will look away. I barely register Finn's hand on my chest guiding me backwards. I swat it down.