I slid my hand around her waist. “So, when are we gonna see each other again?”
She paused mid-sip, and her eyes widened. The beer was slowly lowered and handed back to me. “I don’t know.”
I flexed the muscles of my jaw, annoyed she was already back to blowing me off—
She startled. “I mean, I’m a student-athlete too. My schedule’s kind of intense.”
“Oh. Right.” I drank a long sip of the beer.
“There’s also the fact our schools are three hours from each other.”
If she thought she was going to talk her way out of seeing me again, she had another thing coming. When she’d hopped over the fence at the football game, I decided to chase after her—
In every way possible.
“Yeah,” I said. “The distance and our schedules will make it a challenge,” I grinned, “but did I happen to mention how much I like those?”
-16-
KAYLA
The first game of the season was a whirlwind. I glanced up at the scoreboard, watching the seconds tick down. Less than two minutes left before halftime, and we were already crushing Maryland by twenty-one points. The crowd before me was buzzing. The only time it ever went silent was for an injury or an interception. And when we scored? The sweet sound was deafening.
“O-H!” I yelled with my cheerleading squad, shaking my red and silver pom-poms up above my head.
“I-O!” the crowd answered in a unified voice.
It thundered through me like a euphoric drug.
At the sound of a whistle, I turned around. I stood on the strip of grass at the edge of the field near the end zone and glanced down to the boys at the other end. Maryland was having a tough time getting the ball out of their own side of the field, which meant I’d have a tough time watching the play.
Without flicking my gaze up to the clock, I knew we’d hit less than a minute left in the game because the band was filing down out of their seats, readying to perform for halftime. I put my fisted pom-poms on my hips, and something bright and shiny caught my eye. I grinned when I saw an enormous bell of silver headed my way.
“Hey! Did you get it?” I asked him before he’d even reached me.
Chuck was all smiles, which only meant one thing. I’d seen him on game days plenty of times before. Sometimes the marching band’s day started before the cheerleaders’ did, and the sousaphone my friend held weighed thirty-five pounds. It could be grueling for him, but today he stood tall in his black uniform and hat.
“Did you get what?” one of the freshman cheerleaders asked, giving Chuck a friendly smile.
“I’m dotting the ‘I’ at the Michigan game,” he said.
She looked at him like he was speaking Latin.
“The marching band does a formation called Script Ohio. A senior sousaphone gets to dot the ‘I.’ It’s a big honor,” I added.
“Oh, cool.” Her smile was genuine. “Congrats!”
“Thanks.” Chuck swiveled back to face me, temporarily blinding me when sunlight glared off the shiny bell of his enormous tuba. When I averted my gaze, it landed on a cute brunette with a bubbly smile standing down by the twenty-yard line. With the formal marching band uniforms and hair tucked into hats, sometimes it was hard to pick out specific people, but I knew it was her. She held a trombone in her hands, and chatted with another girl, so I could see her profile.
“What does Beth think about you getting the spot for The Game?” I said, teasing him.
His gaze went to the trombone girl he’d been pining over. “Haven’t the faintest clue.”
“I don’t get how you can march next to someone all of last year and not utter a single word.”
He gave me a pointed look. “Not everyone’s type A like you. I talked to her once.”
“Yeah? What’d you say?”
Chuck’s gaze dropped abruptly and he fiddled with a valve on his sousaphone. “She asked if she was in the diagonal. I said, yeah.”
I blinked slowly. “Impressive.”
The stadium roared when the clock expired, and teams from both benches moved for the locker rooms. Funny how there was more pep in the OSU players’ step. I grinned. Having a significant lead going into halftime would do that to you.
A voice boomed from the box high over the fifty-yard line. “Some scores from around the Big Ten. Notre Dame, three. Purdue, seven.”
In the stands, people left their seats and climbed the stairs for concessions. They laughed and high-fived, disinterested in the announcement.
“Connecticut, three,” the announcer continued, “Michigan . . . twenty-one.”
A few fans stopped mid-step, turning their gazes up to the box, and an angry hiss came from the stadium, punctuated by boos.
“Sounds like your new friend’s doing good,” Chuck said.
My eyes went so large, I had to blink to keep my eyeballs from falling out. I glanced around, terrified someone had overheard. Most of the cheerleaders were heading toward the coaching staff and getting water bottles. Lisa looked busy adjusting her hair bow and staring off into the crowd. She probably had laser guidance for locating her perfect pre-med boyfriend.