I climbed the bleachers with my heart pounding in my ears. I appreciated the view from up here so much more and took what felt like the first deep breath since I flipped that coin. My school event checkbox was the only reason I pushed through that awkward exchange. What was with Logan's statue impression? Why would he look at me?
A few people clapped me on the back for the coin toss as if I'd had any control over the outcome. Another two girls shoved their phone numbers into my palm for Jake and asked how they could toss the coin in future games. I had no answer other than crumpling up their numbers.
"Ellie, there you are." Mom leaned forward in her seat.
I sucked in my stomach and squeezed past my parents, my belly stinging from Logan's football. With my hand palming the sore skin, I smiled. "Yeah, I was-"
"We saw. Everyone saw." Dad squeezed my lack of a defined bicep muscle. "Nice throw, didn't know you had that in you."
"Everyone saw?" My eyebrows furrowed. "Even Jake?"
"Don't worry. Jake was tying his shoe when you threw the ball." Mom's smile didn't reach her eyes as I sucked in my gut and stepped over her feet. "Going off how miserable you looked down there, I'll take it you didn't speak to him."
"Yes." My lips rolled in, and I paused at my seat. "That was as happy fas as I make. He still owes me an apology."
Harper laughed before my butt plopped down. "Did you just kiss a fucking football?"
I covered my mouth, but a few small laughs escaped. They stopped at her words, "You know, that's not the kind of ball your mouth-"
"Alright," I cut her off with a wave. "We don't need to go there. Parents in earshot."
My relaxed state was short-lived once the game started. It was the worst game I'd ever seen. During every play, I became torn between being excited and discouraged. Fortunately, Jake and Logan were never on the field together, so I cheered for whoever was up, despite the murderous looks when I cheered for Salesian.
I retained my title of the worst person to describe a game, ignoring Harper's sexed-up version, but anyone saw that Jake and Logan's styles couldn't have been more different. With a relaxed swagger, Jake was confident, prepared, and almost mechanical. He managed his team with controlled, barked-out orders. They moved up the field like a well-oiled machine in slow, methodical run plays that used up big clock time chunks. He executed them with the confidence and experience of a seasoned high school senior. His patience paid off, as Santa Cruz took the first 7-0 lead.
"At least all those missed meatball rolling sessions were worth it," I mused to Mom. Her meek smile and pale cheeks showed her nerves had started to take over.
Logan was mesmerizing. My eyes were glued to him. He was relaxed, lightning-quick on his feet, and adept at improvising after their plays fell flat. Exuberant was never a word I used to describe a football player, but he zipped all over the field like a grand chess master who played against amateurs.
The way Logan's helmet shifted around the field, he anticipated the other players' moves before they flinched and stood up. His plays were quick and flashy, and he executed them as naturally as breathing. He made it look easy and toyed with his opponents, poking holes into the Cardinals' defense like Swiss cheese. He went for the long passes and made adjustments when his receivers weren't in the correct position. And not one defender brought him down, despite how hard the defense blitzed him.
I'd watched a lot of football games for Jake since I was six, and he played pee-wee. No offense to my brother, but for the first time I observed a game, awe washed through me from a football player's abilities. Jake was talented and worked hard, but Logan was purely gifted.
"He's really good." Even Harper was impressed in her special way. "Looks like the only one who can sack him is you, Elle."
"Harper!" I elbowed her. "My parents?"
Her only response was texting with a cute smile on her lips. Ryan.
Salesian was behind 7-3 with twenty seconds left in the first half. Logan lifted his team out of the deficit, but not without drama. He faked a long pass, then ran the ball for fifteen yards until he was pushed out of bounds on the Santa Cruz sidelines near the five-yard line.
Both stadium sides stood up as the players pushed and shouted at each other. The refs blew their whistles and pushed the players apart. My eyes widened at Jake's number seven being held back by his teammates, his helmetless head showing his eyes and words aimed at Logan. I squeezed Mom's trembling fingers. By her ghost-like skin tone, she needed her brown paper breathing bag. "Don't do it, Jake," I mumbled.
Jake stopped, then pointed at the scoreboard and ran his mouth. I breathed a sigh of relief when he stepped back. Logan headed back onto the field, knelt in his huddle, and set up the play. The offensive formation looked like another long pass, but he broke when the ball touched his fingers and headed straight for the end zone.
Logan outmaneuvered one defensive lineman and charged forward in a blur. One defensive tackle hooked his arms around his waist, but his legs churned. He dragged the defenseman with him over the end zone line, to the pure delight of the Salesian fans. Groans and curse words filtered up from our side, but my lips pulled into a wide smile.
After Logan celebrated with some of his teammates, his helmet looked in Jake's direction. He must've said something before he pointed at the scoreboard because the Santa Cruz bench stood up. Both sides charged in for another shoving match but were interrupted when the second quarter ended.
"Halftime," Mom said with pained eyes.
"I need to use the bathroom," I announced with a grin and turned to my best friend, who smiled at her phone and slipped it into her coat pocket. "Harper?"
"I'll get up because my ass is asleep. And I think I see Ryan." Her eyes drifted below us, and her lips formed a soft smile. Tonight, they matched the new cotton candy pink tips in her hair.
I winked and smiled suggestively at her. "Under the bleachers?"
"We're not the half-time show." She scrunched her nose up, but her smile remained. "I'd like to introduce you two if you can hold your pee long enough."
My heart soared at that suggestion. "Of course!" We stood and side-stepped our way to the end of the row, then waited behind a sea of people climbing the stairs. Getting up for any reason at halftime was the worst part of where we sat.
"There he is!" She tugged my arm and pointed to a tall, lanky, pale boy with brown hair and glasses scanning the bleachers. His face broke out into an adorable grin at her.
I gave what I hoped looked like a polite smile. With a lean, tall body, pale skin, and round glasses that hid a pair of pensive brown eyes, Ryan looked nothing like Harper's 'normal' type. He had a slight muscle tone from cross-country running, but because he was so tall, he looked like his body was stretched out.
Jake could probably snap him like a twig. Who am I kidding? Harper could break him in half.
I opened my mouth, but Harper's fingers extended, and she nestled her palm inside his. On contact, Ryan's face melted into a smile. The one she returned wasn't a usual Harper scowl or smirk but a genuine smile. Those unspoken gestures were all I needed to know. "I'm so happy to meet you, Ryan."
"Hi, Elle." His handshake was warm, but his smile at Harper melted me. The stadium was empty in his eyes.
Our conversation was light and casual. I was the happiest third wheel until my throbbing bladder threatened me with public embarrassment. I tossed a goodbye over my shoulder and fled to a restroom. Groups of people lingered and chatted animatedly. I grimaced at the horrendous lines for ladies' bathrooms and walked to the visitor's side, the quickest access to relief. Hopefully, I could catch up with someone over here.
I stepped into a relatively short line behind two Salesian cheerleaders in maroon and black uniforms. One had shorter blonde hair and the other had shiny black hair, both pulled into high ponytails and decorated with black ribbons. I looked down and sighed at their perfectly toned, long legs.
The one with black hair turned around and sneered her blood-red lips at me. "Hey, wrong side."
How the hell did she know that? "Just need to pee." I rolled my eyes.
She narrowed her brown eyes as if she recognized me. "You threw the ball to Logan before the game."
After he hit me with it. "Yeah." I squirmed against my bladder's threatened mutiny. The sooner this non-conversation ended, the better.
"Hope you don't get any wrong ideas," her voice was as cold and suggestive as the icy glare her brown eyes shot at me. "He has a girlfriend."
Her cold, calculating eyes gave away her lie. Where did I know her? Oh, the blood drive. With no idea what her hate-filled motive was here, I asked as innocently as possible, given I already preferred an ovary punch, "Does he know that?"
"Ask him yourself." She slipped an arm over the blonde's shoulders, but her cold tone suggested they weren't friends. "Rumors are that Olivia here is his girlfriend now. But, everyone knows that I'm Logan's trifecta. Whatever you think you two are, Eleanor, you aren't."
My feet froze, and my leg muscles locked at her words. With a drop in my jaw, my mouth parted, but my voice was held back by one particular word she said. Trifecta? How could she know? A quick visual scan showed Olivia, with her rounded, youthful face, couldn't have been older than a sophomore. A single glimpse of 'LH' outlined in hearts on her wrists tugged a smile across my lips. This black-haired girl, though? I didn't like her or her bitch aura.
Play dumb to see what she means, Ellie. "Trifecta?"
"Face, tits, and ass," she spat out, walked with a sway that shifted her tight, black skirt across her ass, and paused at a stall. She flashed me a smirk and slammed the door shut.
Nice to know that the Salesian bitches were charming. Thankfully, both girls were gone by my turn. I washed my hands and exited the bathroom. The visitor's side bleachers were awash in a sea of burgundy red and black-clothed fans as excited about the game as our side.
While I walked the bleachers, the other perspective's discussions filtered into my ears.
"Santa Cruz looks even scarier this year."
"Think Jake Harrison's as cute as Logan under that helmet?"
"Bad boys aren't cute. They're hot."
Their quarterback is so solid."
"But we've got Hightower."
"He's slow to start. Is he injured?"
"Nah, he's tough. Why is Allen receiving on the wrong side tonight?"
"Can't wait to see 'em light it up in the second half."
My brother and Logan's cuteness factor comparison made me gag, but finally, I spotted Grace. Her tall, thin frame sat in the corner seat alone. The collar of her number ten Salesian jersey peeked out from under a blanket bundled around her shoulders. I waved both arms in animated flaps. Her eyes shifted to me for a few seconds, then she broke into a big smile and waved. I approached with a grin.
"Eleanor!" She gave me a hug, blanket and all, then tugged my hands to sit with her. "I didn't know if I'd see you."
"Hi, Grace." I smiled. "My attendance, like yours, is mandatory. How are you?"
"Only yelled at him twice so far." She shook her head, but the smile lingered on her lips. "First time was when he threw that darn football at you."
"You saw that?" Now that the pain had subsided into a faint bruise, his attention grab was a lot more... cute. If I'd seen that exchange between someone else, maybe I'd have swooned. His indifference had to be game-day mode.
"I let him know that's not the nice way to get a girl's attention." Her eyes twinkled, and crease lines etched their corners. "Such embarrassing manners, I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry." I smiled and patted her arm. "But I appreciate you telling him off."
Grace's smile faded, and the brightness in her eyes dulled. "It's the least I could do. He and I had a painful talk a few days ago. I didn't know that he'd done such terrible things to girls. Hopefully, that includes nothing with you."
"He might have had some down moments," I reassured her with a smile and a soft bump on my shoulder. "I'm willing to let him pull through. With me, he still has plenty of time to screw it up."
"He probably will." Her tongue clicked the back of her teeth, but her smile reappeared. "You'll need a lot of patience with that idiot. Don't give up on him, Ellie. I like you two together."
My cheeks warmed under her candid admission. A Mom stamp of approval gave me the warm fuzzies. "I won't unless he gives me a reason to."
"Some game, huh? Your brother is number seven?" Pinned in behind packed rows of fans rooting against my brother wasn't the best spot in the stadium to talk about Jake, so I just nodded. Grace puffed out her cheeks and exhaled. "Fudgesickles. I'm sure you can relate. I'm rooting for boys on both sides tonight too. This game is doubling my gray hairs."
"Yeah." I smiled at Mom's pale face. She would need a breathing bag for the second half.
Grace's voice broke through my distracted thoughts, "I'm heading to your side now. Their dad is on Brody's side, and we'll switch. Easiest for us to split up our cheering."
People returned to their seats, slowing our exit. "Brody's doing great too. His catch at the beginning of the second quarter was solid."
"Your brother's playing good too. He's a solid passer," she noted as we stepped down the stairs.
"Careful, Grace." I winked over my shoulder. "I'm in enemy territory here."
"I understand." Her fingers zipped her mouth shut.
"Do you want to sit with us?" I pointed to my parents' seats once the rough clay track pounded under our steps.
Grace's eyes dulled as she shook her head. "I'm not allowed to sit anywhere other than a particular spot. Otherwise, they don't know where I am. Creatures of habit."
They sure were. For better or worse, at least they were predictable. Tonight, Logan was a giant question mark. I hoped this wasn't the last I saw of Grace. Texting her would be awkward. "I understand. Glad I was able to come over and say hi." I grinned. "I'm sure you'll get mobbed by the recruiters afterward."
"Not tonight." She smiled like she held an inside secret. "Logan didn't tell you?"
"No." I frowned and shook my head. "I haven't heard from him much, but I'm having phone issues today." My poor phone pile sat on my bedroom dresser in all its shattered glory. I'd attempted to put the battery back in, but it wouldn't turn on.
"He turned them down," she said. "He instructed his coaches to tell both UCLA and USC that he was considering other alternatives."
Other alternatives? He mentioned which schools he was interested in, but I didn't know he'd acted on those. "I'm sure he'll have a lot of options." My voice wavered a little with uncertainty. He wouldn't entertain those schools? "He's an amazing player. I honestly mean that, even as Jake's sister."
"Don't say anything, please." Her voice lowered, and she pulled me closer. "Cornell, Yale, or Harvard. He even considered not playing football, but at those prices, he'll have to."
My eyebrows shot up. Interesting. "Those are not big football schools, at least." Logan's action mode activated, and I was all over that version of him. I was dying to know what he'd been up to this week.
"Again, you didn't hear that." Her voice was full of concern. "But those letters came in the mail today. I don't know what they said, but I put them on his desk. And I haven't seen any dirty pictures replacing the ones I tore down, so don't give up on him yet."
A smile softly played on my lips that I couldn't have held back no matter how hard I tried. "I won't."
As much as today yanked me on an emotional rollercoaster, halftime was me settled in a dip of uncertainty. Strapped down, I would see this ride to the end. If it meant falling in love, being heartbroken from rejection, or puking my guts out from the tumultuous process, I knew one thing for sure.
I was all in for whatever came after the game. Hopefully, Logan was too.