Blurred Lines: A Rixon High Prequel, L Cotton [read an ebook week TXT] 📗

and this game is ours.” He clapped me on the shoulder, and I nodded.

I was ready.

More than ready.

But I couldn’t shake the way things had been left between me and Miley. She’d given me no chance to explain, and then spent the rest of the week avoiding me. I knew Coach had asked her to come tonight, but I had no idea if she planned on it or not.

Not that it should have mattered.

“Okay, everybody in. Raiders on three.”

“One… two… three…”

“Raiders.” It echoed off the walls, reverberating through me, and fueling me for the battle ahead. The Eagles would come at us with everything they had, hoping to end our road to the championship before it even got started.

“Hell yeah.” Micah grabbed my shoulder and leaped into the air. “Nothing like a little rivals game to get the blood pumping.”

“Knock it off, asshole.” I elbowed him in the ribs. Things were still strained between us, but you couldn’t go out onto the field with any bad blood between you and your teammates, not if you wanted to stay focused and win.

He laughed it off, moving ahead of me as we lined up to make our way onto the field. There was nothing like Friday night football. The glare of the lights, the anticipation of the crowd, the noise, right down to the smell of freshly cut grass. Stepping out onto that field was like coming home and for a second, everything went silent before zeroing in and exploding into heart pumping chaos.

“Ready?” Coach asked as I passed him. It was tradition that he followed us out.

“I think so.” Blood roared in my ears, the rumble of the crowd growing beyond the doors.

“You’ve got this.” He gripped my shoulder. “Whatever happens out there tonight, I’m proud of you, Avery. We all are.”

“Thanks, Coach.” I swallowed over the lump in my throat and grabbed my helmet. My future lay out there…

All I had to do was go out there and take it.

“Okay, get in here.” Coach called us in. It was the fourth quarter, and we were trailing behind the Eagles 34-29. The lead should have been ours, but a couple of bad decisions had swayed things in their favor.

“We’ve got a minute on the clock.” He whipped off his blue and white Raiders ball cap and ran a hand through his dark hair. “This game should have been ours in the second quarter. But it doesn’t matter. We leave all that at the door. We’ve got one minute on the clock. It’s time to go big or go home. Chase, talk to me.”

“There’s only one play here, sir. You get me the ball and I’ll get it to the end zone.”

“That’s what I like to hear, son. We run it, and you don’t let go of that ball, son, not until you’re over the line.”

I nodded, anticipation firing off around my nerve endings. It was now or never. Forty-seven minutes of pushing hard all came down to this single play. If we converted, we’d win, if we didn’t… well, that wasn’t an option. I held out my hand and the assistant coach threw me a water bottle. I took a big gulp before squeezing the rest over my face.

“Raiders on three,” Coach said, pushing his hand into the middle of the huddle. Mine followed, then Ben’s and Micah’s, until the entire team was piled on top.

“One… two… three… Raiders.”

The crowd cheered us back onto the field as we moved into position. My parents were in the crowd with Ashleigh and Uncle Xander, Coach’s wife and daughters too. And I knew the Bennets would be here to cheer us on. Football wasn’t just a hobby for our families, it was a way of life.

I pulled on my helmet and bit down on the mouth guard, checking the players on either side of me. It was a risky play, going for it on the fourth down, but we needed the touchdown.

“Blue fifty-two,” I yelled. “Blue fifty-two.”

Our center rocked on the balls of his feet, waiting for the whistle. The second it sounded, he snapped the ball to me, and I dropped back waiting for my running back to fake the pass. He took off to the left, drawing the eye of the Eagles defense while I put my head down and ran. My legs pumped as hard as they could as I ate up the yard markers. Thirty… twenty… ten…

A swarm of red and white hovered on the periphery of my sight but I had to trust my guys would take care of them. Until one lunged, landing right in front of me. I anticipated his fall and leaped into the air, just clearing his body. My feet hit the ground and I flew into the end zone, slamming the ball down.

“Touchdoooooown,” the announcer’s voice echoed around the stadium, drowned out by the roar of the crowd. My heart crashed violently against my chest as my teammates crowded me, cheering my name as if I was their messiah.

We’d done it.

We’d beaten our rivals and put on one hell of a show doing it. But as I looked around the crowd, all on their feet and celebrating our last-minute win, I found myself searching for only one face.

And she wasn’t there.

“Chase, get over here,” Coach yelled, and I jogged over to where he and a tall man wearing a Fighting Irish jacket stood.

“This is Mr. Drummond from Notre Dame.”

“It’s good to meet you, sir.” I held out my hand and he shook it.

“Quite the game you played out there tonight.”

“Thank you.”

“Bold, aggressive, it’s exactly the kind of talent we’re looking to recruit for the Fighting Irish.”

“Playing for Notre Dame would be a dream come true, sir.”

“Glad to hear it, son.” He pulled out his wallet and dug out a card, handing it to me. “I’ll be in touch.”

“That would be great, sir.”

“You should go celebrate with the rest of your team, you’ve earned it.” He clapped me on the shoulder,