The cheering quieted as students from a local elementary school walked out onto the field to sing the National Anthem. The players from both teams turned to face the flag and put their hands over their hearts.
Finn leaned in. His voice was low. “I don’t know what happened while I was in Oregon—Frida and Em are being tight-lipped about it—but I have a feeling it involves you. I told you to stay away from her.”
If going on a silly date as part of a halftime show earned him a black eye, he didn’t want to know what would happen if he admitted he’d kissed her. Grant decided to answer in half-truths. “I told her that I couldn’t date her.”
Finn narrowed his eyes. “I don’t believe you.”
Grant lifted his shoulder. “Ask her.”
Finn continued to stare at Grant as the kids finished singing. When they were done, and the players started walking to their spots, either on the field or on the bench, Finn reached out and grabbed Grant’s arm.
Is he going to fight me moments before kickoff in front of all these fans?
“Don’t think this conversation is over, rookie.”
He shook Finn’s hand off. “Of course not.”
Apparently not dating Em, and then telling her that they shouldn’t date, wasn’t enough for Finn. Would things always be like that with the team’s captain? If that was the case, maybe Grant should start applying to more master’s programs outside of the state—and looking at other MASL teams too.
Grant jogged to his spot and looked at Em’s seat once more. She still wasn’t there, and he couldn’t help but feel responsible for her missing something she enjoyed so much.
The ref blew his whistle, and the game began. Once the ball was in play, Grant pushed all thoughts of Em from his mind and focused on the game. He needed to walk the thin line of playing the best he could without pushing so hard he hurt himself again.
He could not imagine sitting out for another extended period of time.
Grant got to play for almost the entire first quarter, and by the time the buzzer rang, he’d had two assists—one to Silas and the other to Cardosa. Since Finn hadn’t let any balls past, the team had a two-point lead.
It was a great way to make his comeback.
There was a short break—a chance for all the players to get water while the coaches discussed plays for the upcoming quarter. During this time, Greg, the GM, walked out to talk about one of the team’s corporate sponsors.
Grant grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat from his face.
“You doing okay?” Coach asked.
This was the hardest he’d worked in a month, and his body was having a hard time adjusting, but it felt good to be part of the team. He nodded. “Yeah.”
“He was getting slow at the end,” Finn said. “It might be good to have him sit out the next quarter.”
Grant bit his tongue. He wouldn’t rise to the captain’s bait. He could only hope that Coach would ignore Finn’s advice and let Grant in anyway.
“Noted,” Coach said before he started going into the plays he wanted the guys to try. The next couple minutes went by fast, and Grant soon found himself in the Storm’s box watching his teammates play without him.
He’d successfully kept his eyes away from Em’s seat during the first quarter, but now that he’d had a chance to catch his breath, his gaze went to where she should have been sitting.
She still wasn’t there, but Frida happened to be looking toward the home bench and caught his eye. She gave him a sad smile and shook her head.
Needing to know more, Grant pushed his way to the end of the team’s box and closer to Frida. When he got there, she refused to meet his gaze. Her entire body was stiff as she watched the game.
“Is she okay?”
“I shouldn’t be talking to you, girl code and all.”
“Shouldn’t? Or won’t?”
She let out a long sigh. “If Em sees me talking to you, she’s not going to be happy with me, and I’m already on thin ice.”
“How’s she going to see us talking? She’s not here.” His breath caught in his chest. Em wasn’t sitting in her usual spot. That didn’t mean she wasn’t in the arena. “She’s here, isn’t she?”
Frida bit her bottom lip.
“Where?”
“If I tell you, you can’t look, okay?”
He snorted. Grant had been hoping to catch a glimpse of her all night. If Frida told him where Em was, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from looking in that direction.
Frida shifted on her feet. “Can you at least wait until you’re not standing right next to me?”
“Fine. Where is she?”
Without taking her eyes off the game, she said, “Section two-twenty-five, about halfway up. Her hair is pulled back, and she’s wearing a black tank top.”
Grant fought to keep his head from turning in that section’s direction. Frida had said she was on thin ice, and while Grant had no idea what had happened, he didn’t want to make things worse for the two friends.
“Thank you,” he said as he moved back to the other side, as far away from Frida as possible. Once there, his eyes went to section two-twenty-five, and he started looking frantically for Em.
It would be a lot easier to find you if your hair was down. But maybe that was the point. She’d gone through the effort of getting a ticket in a nosebleed section. Of course she wanted to remain anonymous.
That didn’t stop him. He systematically went row by row until he saw a girl sitting by herself. She wore a black tank top and her hair was in a ponytail, and even though he couldn’t see her as well as he would have liked from his spot on the ground, he knew it was her.
She was here.
Grant hoped he would get one last chance to talk to her. He knew it was selfish, and
