Levi gasped for breath. Raising his arm, he checked his time and grinned. Not bad. Not bad at all.
“Don’t get too cocky,” Dylan said, sprawled on the ground. He handed Levi a bottle of water. “In case you’ve forgotten how the game works, once the center hikes you the ball, you won’t have the luxury of running in a straight line.”
Downing the liquid in four gulps, Levi poured what was left in the bottle over his face.
“Just needed to make certain the speed was still there. What I need to work on are my bobbing and weaving skills.” Levi sat up. “Back in the day, I had moves that left linebackers eating my dust.”
“For the sake of the team and my sanity, don’t try anything fancy on Sunday,” Dylan said, his expression unusually serious. “Let your offensive line do their jobs and pass from the pocket.”
Levi knew Dylan was right. He wasn’t ready, mentally or physically, for anything fancy. No one in his right mind would leave the on-field decision making up to him. Not in the first game, at least.
Mac and his coaching staff would put together a basic game plan. Quick, short passes and a lot of handing the ball off so the running backs could do their jobs. Levi would shelve his ego and do whatever was asked of him.
“I won’t try and be a hero,” Levi assured his friend. “However, even the best plays sometimes break down at some point. If I’m not prepared to scramble, I’ll be dead meat.”
“Quarterback roadkill,” Dylan said with a sage nod. “You’re right. Work on your moves. I’ll help. The team needs you upright and healthy.”
“I can still play with the big boys.” Levi rolled to his feet. He held out a hand to Dylan.
“You’re preaching to the choir.” Dylan chuckled. “You have an entire team of acolytes. No doubts, no worries.”
“I appreciate the cheerleader routine,” Levi said as he pulled his sweat-soaked t-shirt over his head.
“Sis-boom-bah, buddy.” Dylan waved a pair of imaginary pompoms. When Levi snorted, he shrugged. “Old school, I know. I never could get the kicks right, so I gave up on becoming a cheerleader.”
“The football world is grateful for your sacrifice,” Levi said with a straight face.
“Big sacrifice,” Dylan agreed. He winked and flashed his smile. “Don’t think I didn’t do my part. Instead of joining, I dated the cheer squad. I still have a soft spot in my heart for a woman in a short, pleated skirt.”
“You dated the entire squad?” Levi asked. “How did you manage that without causing a riot?”
“Talent.” Dylan shrugged. “Charm. Sex appeal. And enough natural magnetism to light up the streets of Broadway.”
Shaking his head and smothering a smile, Levi grabbed a towel.
“I’d tell you to get over yourself, but what would be the point?”
“What’s the point of taking a shower?” Dylan called out as Levi stepped into one of the stalls. “You’ll just get messed up again once practice begins. Once the defense has their way, you’ll be a freaking dirtball—head to toe.”
Knowing Dylan was only half-joking, Levi put the image out of his head. He was prepared to get knocked on his ass—and eat some dirt in the process. Pain and punishment were all part of the game. He could hardly wait.
Levi lifted his face toward the showerhead, sighing with pleasure as hot, steamy water washed the drying sweat from his skin. From the time he was old enough to dream of a career in football, he’d worked hard to transform his body into a machine he could count on to do the job.
During a game, Levi’s reflexes needed to be automatic, second nature. While his brain had to think four steps ahead, his body needed to be in the moment.
Levi didn’t have any illusions about Sunday’s game. He would make mistakes. There would be moments when he failed. Playing the game of football could not be compared to riding a bike. Once you learned, you could forget. Especially when you’d been on the sidelines for as long as he had.
But Levi knew something his detractors didn’t. He wasn’t idle for the past ten years. Though his body wasn’t in the game, his mind was an active participant. Every snap, every throw, every run, he played along.
Levi was prepared. He’d take the lumps and bumps and bruises. He’d fall, then, he’d get back up. And if he screwed up a play, the next time, he’d do better until he found his rhythm again.
No, football was not like riding a bike. But in his case, Levi knew one thing was true. Once a quarterback, always a quarterback.
“Did Piper like the present you bought her?” Dylan asked as Levi exited the shower.
“I didn’t have a chance to find out,” Levi said as he dried his face. The towel hid his smile.
“You dragged me across half of London and through four different jewelry stores to find the perfect pair of earrings,” Dylan groused. “Then you forgot to give them to her?”
“I didn’t forget,” Levi said. “We, um, sort of got sidetracked.”
“Selfish bastard.” Dylan punched Levi’s arm with more force than he considered necessary. ‘You spent the entire evening talking about yourself, didn’t you?”
“Watch it,” Levi warned as he rubbed the offended spot. “Starting quarterbacks are precious commodities.”
“Precious, my ass,” Dylan snorted, not the least bit impressed.
“As for Piper, she’s a true friend.” The tips of Levi’s fingers tingled as he recalled the feel of her in his arms. “Last night, she gave me exactly what I needed.”
“And what did you give Piper?” Dylan asked.
I gave her what she hadn’t realized she needed, Levi thought with a chuckle. Not that he expected Piper to agree. Not now. Not yet.
“You look like the cat who swallowed the canary.” Dylan’s eyes narrowed. “What did you do to my Piper?”
“Excuse me?” Appalled, Levi
