“I know, Caveman.” I don’t need to hear the words to know what he’s thinking, what he’s struggling to articulate. “Now use it and go kick some Nittany Lion ass.”
Hawk cries answer my words and are the soundtrack behind the gentle kiss I place on the underside of Mase’s scruffy jaw.
I hurry out of the room to meet King, and something tells me this is far from over.
#Chapter58
The entrance tunnel echoes with the final strains of the school’s fight song, my body vibrating with each beat of the drumline’s bass drums. The adrenaline I typically get before a game has nothing on the murderous rage rolling through me from my encounter with Liam Parker.
I already wanted to kick his ass, but clearly this motherfucker has a death wish coming at my girl like that. My hands fist at my sides, the knuckles cracking at the memory of his vile bullshit.
“You straight, man?” Trav asks, clapping a hand on my shoulder.
I nod even though I’m not. “This isn’t over.” My voice is eerily calm compared to the riot of emotions coursing through my body.
“Fuck no.” He holds out a fist and I bump it twice. “But after.” He points toward the field with his helmet, a reminder to keep my head in the game.
“After,” I promise.
The palpable energy only the Black Out game can bring bleeds into the tunnel as the intro video flips over to the live feed, AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck” blaring through the speakers. With a collective hawk cry, the team rushes out to take the field.
The scent of sulfur hangs in the air from the fireworks set off prior to our entrance, a fog of white smoke falling over the crowd as we run through the path created by the band.
The stadium is a sea of black, the creepy dancing shadows almost making it seem empty except for the uproarious cheers of tens of thousands of Hawks fans.
Jogging over to our bench with the rest of my teammates, I round it and take a moment to find Kay in the stands. Typically I wait until after the coin toss to search her out, but I need eyes on her, as if seeing her in her seat is all I need to reassure me she’s safe.
Some of my tension eases, my shoulders loosening when I catch sight of her bright smile and shy wave. With a quick thump of my hand over my heart and a point at her, I run to join the other captains for the coin toss.
Hand in hand, Trav, Alex, Kev, and I make our way out to the fifty where the referee and camera wait. My lip curls when I see Liam amongst the white jerseys walking out with those chosen to represent Penn State.
At my left, Kev hums the funeral march, and on my right, Trav gives the hand he’s holding a Keep your head squeeze.
“Tell me, Nova”—Liam’s teeth flash in a smile behind the faceguard of his helmet—“how bad did my sloppy seconds fall apart after I was gone? She may be a football princess, but she sure as shit is a drama queen.”
I lunge forward only to be jerked backward by my friends. I’m seething, heart racing, breathing heavy.
The referee steps between us, commemorative coin in hand, gaze bouncing from white jerseys to black, waiting for the sportsman handshake.
Yeah, that’s so not happening, buddy.
As if able to hear my inner coach, the ref shakes his head before going over the spiel about the football embossed on the silver being heads and the hawk representing tails.
The Nittany Lions win the toss, electing to receive first. Fine by me. Let my boys on D get their first shot at teaching this scumbag a lesson about respect. The way Kev’s dark eyes twinkle in the shadow from his helmet tells me he’s having similar thoughts.
“Blow a kiss to Kay for me.” Liam pulls off his helmet and puckers his lips at me.
Black-jersey-clad bodies step into my field of vision in an instant, my friends circling around me. “You keep her name out of your fucking mouth,” I snarl like a rabid beast, my size making it possible to see how Liam’s smile widens over Alex’s shoulder.
Liam is purposely baiting me. I know it. My guys know it. Doesn’t reduce the itch to lay his ass out right here, right now, leaving his body sprawled on top of the hawk printed on the turf.
The shrill of a whistle cuts through my haze of fury and I allow myself to be guided back to the Hawks’ bench.
Ripping my helmet off, I hold it down by my side, shoving all thoughts of Liam away and focusing on the person who is important here—the blonde with the colorful streaks grinning down at me.
I lift my arm to point at her with my helmet, give a wink, and return her blown kiss. Before I turn away, Kay makes a Y with her hand, waving the same hang loose gesture she gave Pops during NJA’s competition. I do the same with my free hand, and I need to remember to ask her about the significance behind it.
There’s a skip to my step as I make my way back to the sidelines, ready for my front-row seat to the pain about to rain all over the douche-monkey.
The whistle blows.
The quarterback calls the play.
The ball snaps and the lines go into motion.
The clash of pads against pads is like music to my ears, especially when one of our safeties flattens Parker on his back.
After no gain on the play for the Nittany Lions, the lines reset for the second down, holding them to only two yards.
Third and eight, the quarterback hands off the ball to Parker, and he barely makes it a yard before Kev drives a shoulder into his middle, lifting him off the ground and driving him into the turf. Kev stays in his face until the refs force them apart.
The smile on my friend’s face as he
