Everyone’s feeling the tension between Kennedy and me. How could they not when she’s avoiding me like I gave her the clap? I can’t get within five yards of her. Every time I try, she makes a break for it, so I’ve given up chasing her around the sideline.
For now.
I want nothing more than to pick up where we left off yesterday—I refuse to accept her declaration that we’re broken up—but I owe it to the team to get my fuckin’ head in the game. Between our drama and the three-point spread on the scoreboard, everyone’s feeling the pressure. Stress is high and tempers are short. Coach is giving the linesman shit over a bad spot, waving his arms like a nut. Fortunately, one of the offensive coordinators relieved him of his clipboard.
The last thing we need is for Coach to get ejected.
I steal a glance at Kennedy. She’s warming up her leg, totally oblivious to my attention. If she’d just give me a chance to explain, I know I could fix what I broke.
But first we have to get through this game.
Michigan’s third and long. I tighten my grip on my helmet and clench the collar of my jersey with my other hand. We need a stop here. If we can hold them, they’ll be forced to go for it on the fourth down. They’re still a few yards out of field goal range, and the fans are doing their part to keep it that way. The noise in the stadium is deafening, fans hoping to drown out the play call or draw a false start.
We should be so lucky.
The ball is snapped and Wyant leaps forward like his ass is on fire, breaking right through the O-line and sacking the quarterback. I can hardly believe my eyes. I pump my fist in the air as a cheer goes up from the crowd.
If Daniels’s guys can deliver one more like that, we gain possession. There’s not a lot of time left on the clock, but we can run it down and eke out a win with a three-point lead.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Parker shouts, slapping me on the back. “That’s how you win games!”
We watch with baited breath as both teams return to the line of scrimmage. “Come on, Daniels.” In all my years at Waverly, I don’t know if I’ve ever been so desperate for our D to hold the line.
Michigan snaps the ball. The coverage is solid. The QB drops back and, finding no receivers, attempts to run the ball. He’s tackled at the line of scrimmage and the crowd goes berserk.
“Hell, yeah!” Parker shouts, jumping in the air.
I slap his stomach and pull on my helmet, relief flooding my veins. “Time to work.”
By the time the game clock reaches zero, I’m mentally and physically exhausted, but Coop and I get tagged for interviews, so we hang back as the rest of the team hits the locker room, riding high on our 10-1 record. We give the reporters the usual fluff about playing as a team, maintaining discipline, and how we’re focused on winning one game at a time. That last part? Total bullshit. Of course we’re thinking about bowl games and the national championship. How could we not?
We’re halfway down the tunnel, away from the prying eyes of fans and reporters, when Coop stops me with a hand on my chest.
“What’s the deal with you and Carter?” he asks, spinning to face me.
“Nothing,” I lie, forcing myself to meet his stare. “Everything’s fine.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna call bullshit.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “She wouldn’t even look at you today. And don’t think I didn’t notice you watching her like a lost puppy when you should’ve been focused on the game. What gives?”
“What do you care?” I snap, regretting the words immediately. Just because I’m in a bad mood doesn’t mean I can be a dick to my best friend. I adjust my headband and push my sweat-slicked hair back. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. I didn’t get much sleep last night. It’s messing with my head.”
“Lack of sleep isn’t the only thing messing with your head.”
He’s not wrong. And it’s more than Kennedy being pissed at me or the fact that I’m disappointed in myself for letting her down and playing right into her low opinion of football players. I can’t stop thinking about what she said. About living in my father’s shadow because I’m too afraid to speak up for myself.
I was so angry when she said it, but she’s right. Four years at Waverly and nothing’s changed. I graduate in the spring. I’ll be signing a multimillion-dollar contract, and I’ve resigned myself to a future I don’t want because I’m afraid of letting my parents down.
What kind of life is that? I tip my head back and close my eyes, taking a minute to lose myself in darkness. Why does everything have to be so fucking complicated?
“Dude, what’d you do?” Coop asks, snapping me back to the conversation. “It can’t be that bad.”
“I broke a promise. An important one.”
“And she dumped you?” I nod. Coop smirks. “Must’ve been a doozy. I figured you’d at least make it until the end of the season before she dumped your ass.”
“Yeah, well, you figured wrong.” I shift my weight, trying to figure out how I can explain the situation without breaking Kennedy’s trust. Or at least, any more than I have already. It’s not my place to tell her secrets, and I’d ride the bench before I ever hurt her intentionally. “Let’s just say she has a history of being let down and the first time I had a chance to be there for her, I blew it.”
“So apologize.”
“It’s not that simple. Look, I know I fucked
