Chapter 5: Fair Catch: Chapter 4

“This be the only time I’m not jealous of you, sis,” Gavin said, wrinkling his nose as he wheeled his chair over to the corner of my new bedroom. It was small, barren, and had a mattress that looked like it could be from the seventies with the amount of stains on it.

“What, you don’t love the aroma?” I teased, waving my hand in front of my face as if to waft up the air even more as I took a big whiff. “Ah… smells like musty jock strap and body odor.”

“You’re disgusting.”

I chuckled, tapping the box I’d just set on the bed. “I’ve got one more on the cart. Be right back.”

With that, I left my brother in my room, thankful that the freshman team dorms at had the courtesy to have separate bedrooms. Zeke and I would share a bathroom and small kitchenette, as well as an abysmal living area that had a couch in similar condition to my mattress, but I loosened a sigh of relief when I saw I had my own room, and a door — one I already knew I’d keep closed at all times.

I jogged out to the golf cart I’d rented to move my belongings over from my temporary summer dorm, retrieving the last box before I made my way back inside. I had to dodge my teammates all the way down the hall, their dorm rooms left open as they tossed footballs back and forth, played video games with a crowd gathered around them, assembled pull-up bars in their doorways, took videos for social media, and God knew what else.

I kept my eyes down and ignored them, just like I had through most of camp. The only one I even remotely acknowledged was Holden, who had been kind to me the last few weeks and was the only one on the team besides Zeke to acknowledge me.

“You need help with that?” he asked as I passed his room, just three doors down from ours.

Any girl, regardless of sexual orientation, would be hard pressed not to blush a little when they held Holden Moore’s attention. He was perhaps the most beautiful specimen I’d ever seen, with sandy-blond hair and electric green eyes, dimples, and a body like Adonis — which he was showcasing now without a care in the world, a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair wet from the shower.

I hoped like hell the flush in my cheeks wasn’t showing when I answered. “I got it. Thanks, though.”

He nodded, and the smirk he gave me was the same as every day, one that told me to keep my head up.

When I made it back to my dorm, I kicked the door shut with my heel, heaving the last box back to my room and setting it on the floor next to Gavin’s wheelchair.

“I can’t let you sleep on this mattress,” he said, grimacing at an indistinguishable stain at the foot of it.

“And can’t be the Princess and the Pea who asks for anything else.” I shrugged, hanging my hands on my hips. “It’ll be fine. I’ll get a mattress pad.”

Gavin didn’t seem soothed, but I pulled the chair out from the desk provided in each bedroom and turned it backward, sitting in front of him to change the subject.

“How are you feeling?” I asked. “Any better?”

When I found out NBU and a few other universities had their eyes on me, I made my brother give a pinky promise in return to the one I’d sworn more than two years ago now — that he’d go to the same college I did.

He started applying right away, putting in applications to every school that showed even a remote interest in me. And when NBU offered me the scholarship, my brother signed right alongside me, declaring it our new home, and even electing to start in the summer instead of the fall since I had to as a student athlete.

It was our first choice, anyway — since we’d grown up in a suburb not too far outside of Boston. It would be easy to go home and see our parents, and we wouldn’t have to battle the ungodly heat and humidity at the southern schools that had also been on the table at one point.

It would have been tough to play no matter where I went, but to go without Gavin?

It would have been impossible.

My twin shrugged, folding his arms over his chest. “Better. Not great, but better. I’m getting the hang for the campus, which ways are best to go and what times are busiest. I’m sure that will all change now with fall semester starting, though.”

“I still think you should get a—”

“If you say electric chair, I’ll wheel over your kicking foot.”

I smiled. “I’m just saying, it would be easier on your arms.”

“Are you kidding? These guns are just fine, thank you.” He held up his massive biceps then, kissing each one. “My lady magnets. They need the extra work if I’m going to land a hot girlfriend by Christmas.”

I rolled my eyes. “Are you sure she’ll be able to compete with your precious ?”

I dropped my gaze to his garnet and gold wheelchair, a lightweight box chair that Mom and Dad had custom built for him. It was a high upgrade from the one our insurance had originally provided, one that our parents worked hard to be able to afford for him.

And then, after working and saving at our hometown grocery store for a year, Gavin saved up and bought a sports chair so he could play basketball.

It humbled him, when he started playing, having to maneuver not only a sport he hadn’t played much of, but doing so while in a chair. But it didn’t take him long to get the hang of it enough to start really competing. What started off as spending his nights and weekends playing in the wheelchair basketball youth league turned into him trying out for and making the Boston NWBA team — which was another perk for us staying in the city for college.

The kid never could sit still. He was also quite possibly the most optimistic, hardworking, and passionate person I’d ever known — and I loved him for it.

“Ah, it’s not Angelina they need to be jealous of. It’s Emily.”

Emily was the pet name for his sports chair, a bumblebee black-and-yellow beast that he named after the model he gave credit for his sexual awakening — Emily Ratajkowski.

“They don’t stand a chance,” I teased.

“I don’t know… some of them might. Have you gone down Greek Row?” He whistled. “I’m going to offer one of those Zetas a ride on my lap to the student union one of these days.”

I snorted a laugh, but before I could reply, the front door flew open, and Zeke swung in.

He was sweaty, the gray NBU athletic t-shirt he wore sticking to his wet chest as he slung his duffel bag on the couch. He’d cut the sleeves off and ripped the sides of the shirt down low so that his rib cage showed, and paired with his baggy basketball shorts worn low enough to showcase the top band of his briefs, he looked like a walking ad for Under Armour.

“Oh shit, we’re in trouble now,” Gavin teased, already wheeling over to greet his best friend.

I, on the other hand, rolled my eyes and turned my attention to the box on my bed, tearing the top flaps open as I started unpacking and ignored Zeke completely.

From the corner of my eyes, I saw Zeke bend down to greet my twin, the two of them embracing in a manly hug complete with a few hard claps on each other’s backs.

“Damn, bro, you look like shit,” Zeke said, clicking his tongue when he was upright again. “These college girls keeping you up too late?”

“What can I say? Can’t keep them off me.”

I resisted the urge to point out that my brother looked fatigued because he’d been traveling multiple miles a day in his chair to and from classes on campus all summer long in the heat, mostly because I knew this was just the way they were.

They ignored the accident Zeke caused, and the repercussions of it, like it never happened at all.

My brother always said he preferred it that way, that he didn’t want to always be talking about his chair or his legs or the accident. And I understood that, I did — it was just like how I didn’t always want to focus on the fact that I was a girl playing football.

Still, I hated that Zeke never had to pay for what he did, that he was still afforded the spot as my brother’s best friend when he didn’t deserve it.

There was only once that I let my anger boil over until I blew up at Gavin — the night before our senior graduation. I demanded he wake up and realize what Zeke had done, that he make him face the consequences, that he stop pretending like nothing had changed.

,” he’d told me.

That had only pissed me off more.

I could still see my brother’s nose flaring, his eyes glossing over, the emotion too big to handle. But then he’d forced a calming breath, his eyes finding mine.

“

It was the card we only pulled when necessary, the one that reminded us both that through whatever this life threw at us, we’d always have each other.

What could I do, other than nod and let it go?

It was that reason and that reason alone that I put up with Zeke as much as I did, from when he helped Gavin train me to try out for our high school team, to when he picked NBU out of the dozens of scholarship offers he had, his terrible GPA.

He was like an ugly mole I couldn’t get rid of. I had no choice but to embrace him and try to make peace with the fact that he’d always be a part of my life whether I wanted him to be or not.

“Wanna play some Madden?” Zeke asked Gavin, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. “My Xbox is in the car. I can unpack the rest of my shit later.”

“If you’re looking for an ass spanking, I’m always here to deliver,” Gavin said. “Just call me .”

Zeke smirked, and then his eyes flicked to mine, and I tore my gaze away, pretending like I hadn’t been listening as I pulled out my clothes and packed them away in my dresser, laying the ones I wanted to hang on the bed.

“You wanna join?” he offered.

“No.”

“Aw, come on, ,” he said, walking over to my door and leaning a hip against the frame. “It’ll be fun. Bonding time.”

“I’d rather saw my right foot off with rusty scissors,” I said, standing and smiling sweetly at him as I shoved my socks into the top drawer with more force than necessary.

Zeke smirked, covering his chest with a hand and stumbling back like I’d wounded him. “So hostile.”

Gavin gave me a look from where he was still sitting in the living room, one that told me to play nice.

I ignored it, shoving Zeke out of my room, instead. “My space. Stay out.”

“Should I make you a sign?

.”

“Oh, there are plenty of boys who are allowed,” I said, crossing my arms and leaning my hip where he’d just been with a wide grin. “Just not .”

Zeke was still smiling, but something of a shadow slipped over him at those words. I couldn’t figure out what his expression meant before my brother called his attention.

“Come on, man. Let’s get it hooked up. Twenty says I beat you by at least seven in the first game.”

Zeke’s eyes trailed down the length of me, like he still had something to say, but he clamped his mouth shut.

“I’ll take that bet,” he said, thankfully leaving me alone as he and my brother exited back into the dorm hall.

As soon as they were gone, I slammed my bedroom door and turned on my Bluetooth speaker, blasting Travis Scott as loud as the volume would go to drown out the noise in the hall.

And in my head.

“Throw the damn ball!” Gavin yelled, but it was too late — by the time his player prepped for the throw, mine was already sacking him to the ground.

“Sack lunch, baby!” I announced, standing up and jumping between my best friend and the television screen. I pretended like I was eating a big sandwich right in front of his face, chowing down on it with a sound effect.

Gavin glared at me before wheeling into my ankle with his chair, and I barked out something between a laugh and a curse, because that shit hurt.

“You’d get flagged for that in real life,” he warned me.

“Good thing I’m not on defense.”

He smirked, tugging on my shirt until I was sitting back down again as we lined up for the next play.

“How’s it going, by the way?” he asked as we both selected our routes.

“Camp?” I shrugged. “It’s fine, I guess.”

Gavin leveled a look at me before selecting his final choice, and then the route plays disappeared and we were lined up on the field. “Which is code for…”

“If I don’t make the team, I’ll kill someone.”

He chuckled, and then we were focused, tongues out as we worked the buttons and toggles on our remote controls until the play was completed. Gavin threw a fist in the air after converting on a third down, and I flicked him off.

“I don’t know, man,” I said as we thumbed through options for the next play. “I guess I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous. I’ve been balling out, but Coach Sanders is stone cold. No emotion. He’s quick to yell at us when we fuck something up, but I have yet to earn a single !”

“They say it’s best when the coach is yelling at you. Means he sees potential.”

“Maybe. He’s different than what I was used to in high school. All of this is different.”

“College ball.”

I my agreement, and then the ball was snapped on the screen. One of Gavin’s players picked up a short run for a few yards.

“You’ll be on the chart,” Gavin said after. “Even if you’re not starting.”

“I start.”

He smiled. “Ah, there’s my cocky best friend.”

“Emphasis on ,” I teased, grabbing my junk.

Exactly when Riley walked out of her room.

Her eyes fell to where I had my hand wrapped around my shaft in my shorts, and I thought I saw a blush touch her cheeks before she grimaced and rolled her eyes.

“I’m going to return the cart. We still on for dinner?” she asked her brother, ignoring me altogether.

“I’m all yours.”

“Cool.” Her eyes found mine next, and she pointed right at me. “Stay out of my room.”

I held my hands in mock surrender, and then she rounded us and headed straight for the door.

I fought to keep my eyes off the way her ass looked in the tiny shorts she wore, how a sliver of her tight stomach showed between the band of those shorts and the tank top she’d paired with them. With a sniff, my eyes were on the screen again, and I told myself she’d be fine walking down the hall of horny college football players.

Mostly because they already knew if they touched her, they’d have me to answer to.

I knew I didn’t have as much clout as a freshman as I did when I was top dog in high school. Still, these guys had been working with me all summer, strength training and running drills. And once camp started and they saw what I brought to the table? I didn’t need seniority.

I had the talent that spoke far louder than age.

And anyone who knew Riley’s story knew that we’d played together in high school, knew that I was practically family.

I had no problem playing the protective big brother role.

Gavin and I fell silent, playing the next few plays before my defense stopped his advance and we switched sides.

I was lining up my first offensive play when he asked, “How’s she doing?”

“She’s killing it,” I answered honestly.

“And you’re keeping an eye on her?”

My chest tightened, not just with his question, but with the promise that rested underneath it. I’d sworn on my life that I’d watch over her for him, and I had — all through high school.

There was no chance of that stopping now.

“I’ve got her back,” I promised him. “But honestly… she doesn’t need me. She holds her own.”

Gavin smiled at that. “Not surprised.” He paused. “Any of the guys giving her shit, though?”

“Not to her face. Some of them think she’s a PR stunt. Some are pissed she has a scholarship they think they should have instead. Some of them are impressed, though they’d never tell her.” I shrugged, neglecting to tell him how some of them also had bets on who would nail her first. “It’s not going to be easy for her, man, but once they see her ball out in the first game, that respect will grow.”

“You think she’ll make chart?”

I blew air out through flat lips with my brows furrowing, leveling my gaze with Gavin. “Bro. Come on. You know that answer already.”

He smiled wider, shaking his head before the ball snapped on the screen. When the play was over, he continued.

“I knew she’d be good,” he confessed. “But I didn’t expect her to be good. I mean, we both saw the talent she had when we were kids, but then she moved on to soccer and I just… I never thought…” He shook his head. “It’s just wild.”

“It is. I think she surprises even herself sometimes.” I tapped his knee with my own. “She might make pro.”

“She doesn’t want to.”

I frowned at that. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “There aren’t any women in the NFL.”

“Maybe she’ll be the first.”

“That’s what I’ve told her, but I think she’s just doing this for me. Once she graduates, I doubt she’ll touch a football again.”

That soured my expression, and I sat back, letting my controller dangle between my legs. “Bullshit. I mean, I don’t doubt that she’s serious about the promise she made you, but it’s more than that. She loves it, Gav. I’ve seen her eyes when she’s on the field, seen how determined and passionate she is. She looks like… like…”

He looked at me. “Like you.”

I quieted.

“I know it’s hard to understand, but not everyone has dreamed of being in the League since they were in diapers,” he teased me. “Her obsession is art, remember? This is just temporary.”

“Yes, but I also remember she loved playing ball with us in the backyard more than she loved going to museums, or playing with her team when she was playing soccer. It’s just different with football — and she feels that, too. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re not,” he confessed on a sigh. “I see all that, too. But I mean… what am I supposed to tell her? College is rough as it is. Imagine her against an NFL team? She’s tiny.”

“Tiny, but mighty.”

He chuckled. “Like Mighty Mouse.” With a shrug, he turned his focus back to the game. “Come on, I’ve got two more touchdowns to get before I take your money.”

“Pshh… you’re going to be me money, fool.”

We got back to the game, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said about Riley. I understood how much that pinky promise meant to her, to both of them, when she made it in that hospital room after the accident.

But this was more to her than just playing for her brother. I knew it.

She loved football.

It made me sick to think of being in her shoes. It would be hard enough for me to go pro as it was, but I knew I had a shot. A shot. I was fast and agile, a great receiver, careful with the ball and a powerhouse when it came to finding holes in the defenders. Teams could use me on special teams to fill a receiver spot. Hell, I could even play at running back, if I needed to.

And I wasn’t even in my prime yet.

I also had parents who had not only planted this dream in my head, but had watered it, had essentially told me it was football or bust. Part of me resented them for that, because outside of football… what did I have?

Nothing.

But now that I realized how my situation differed from Riley’s, I wondered if I was lucky, if I shouldn’t have been thanking them for hammering into me that football was everything.

What would it be like to have all that talent, all that drive, and know my chances of playing after college were close to zero percent?

I swallowed, shaking off those thoughts and focusing on the video game.

But when Riley walked in later, my eyes caught hers, and though she held nothing but disdain in her gaze, I felt nothing but pure respect radiating from my own.

She have a career in football — if she wanted it.

And I was determined to help her see that, no matter how the odds were stacked.