Jackson drops into his stance, still smiling through the bars of his helmet. “Good luck.”
I ignore him, call my play, and the second the center snaps the ball to me, I’m in the zone.
Jackson explodes off the line the second the pocket collapses and I release the ball right before impact.
It’s clean and sharp, and as I take the hit and go down, I hear Jackson’s voice again, right by my ear.
“Better,” he says. “But not good enough.”
I roll onto my back, staring up at the lights, chest burning. I suck in a breath and sit up, blowing out the breath and forcing the sting out of my ribs.
Better…but not good enough.
He’s right. I need to focus. I get to my feet and jog back to the huddle, ignoring everything, including the girl in the stands who’s standing next tomygirl.
The next few drives blur together in sharp snaps and tighter throws. I stop hunting the big play and take what the defense gives me. Five yards. Seven. Move the chains. Reset. Reese hauls in a slant for another touchdown.
By halftime, we’re up 21-14. I’ve managed to score three touchdowns with no interceptions. It might look good on paper, but I can feel how sloppy I am. My head is everywhere, and the start of the second half proves it.
In my first drive, I’m intercepted because Jackson comes at me too quickly.
Lying on the ground, I can see Coach at the side yelling at me, but I barely hear him. All because I’m looking into the stands where Jenni has her hand draped around Honey with this smug little smile plastered across her face.
Do better, Evans.
When I get my next opportunity on the field, we’re tied, 21-21, and the pressure is on.
Too bad I overthrow Reese by five yards. The fucking easiest play in the book and I screwed it up.
I rip my helmet off on the sideline, and the rest of the team gives me space. After my performance so far, I need it.
When I call the team for the huddle, I feel their frustration. Sebi’s jaw is tight, Dax’s muttering under his breath, even Mason looks rattled.
And me? I’m burning alive inside this jersey because Honey’s still up there, laughing, trusting the wrong girl while I’m here, desperate for a win.
“We finish this. No mistakes. Trust me.”
Back in the game, we grind it down the field with short passes and third-down scrambles… It’s not pretty, but it works. By the time we hit midfield, there’s fifty seconds left.
Coach calls a timeout, and he grabs my arm. “You see it?”
“Yeah,” I snap, already locked in. “Their DB’s too shallow. Reese can fall away and we can end it.”
He nods and I head back to the lineup.
Snap.
I drop back, and when I see Reese has space, I throw the ball with everything I have.
He catches it clean and takes it all the way.
Touchdown.
28 – 21
10 seconds left on the clock.
It’s game over. Somehow, even playing my worst, we won.