Dante took one look at me that morning when I walked into training, and groaned. His first words to me were “I don’t want to know.” His second sentence of the day was “Try not to screw this up too badly.”
I think he was referring to the fact that we were training without pads today. That’s what I was telling myself. Training was a breeze. We were gearing up for the spring game. A pad-free training session improved agility and also meant the defense was nowhere near us. Everything felt loose and fast and clean.
Whittaker gave me a friendly wave as he jogged past to line up. I took a second to watch him. He was good, but he wasn’t great. Not yet. He needed work. My gaze went to Noah, who was in deep discussion with the outside linebacker. It was funny that he didn’t know about leadership when he was very clearly the leader of the defense. It’s what the middle linebacker was often called, the QB of the defense.
He’d walked into our practice squad at the beginning of last season and was on the first team within the week. I’d take Noah Matthews on my defense every day of the week.
I just hoped the program left us something worth drafting by the time we were done here.
A ball went sailing past me, narrowly missing taking my head off my shoulders. I turned to shout at someone, only to see Dante grinning at me from where he stood, and Coach Hembry reprimanding him, even though the QB coach was grinning.
“What did I do?” I demanded, jogging over to them. “Why are you aiming your balls at my head?”
Dante’s face screwed up. “Slater, I told you never to talk about that. What happens in the dorm room stays in the dorm room.”
Coach Hembry choked, looked between us, mumbled something about being on the sideline, and left us.
Dante laughed under his breath. “Great guy, terrified of not being politically correct, the NFL will eat him up.” Dante passed the ball between his hands. “So... You and...” He looked around. “Hadley?”
“Just a hookup,” I assured him. “A roll in the hay, as they say.” I considered it. “Has that always rhymed?”
Dante gave me a flat look. “The wordshayandsay. Yeah.” He stepped back, his arm pulled back farther than it had been, and he threw the ball downfield. The ball sailed in a perfect arc to the end zone.
“Nice,” I said with appreciation. “It’s better if there’s someone there to catch it.” I grinned at him when he grunted. “So, your shoulder’s better?”
He nodded, his fingers digging into the joint and swinging his arm. “Coach said to still do sessions with Doug, but it’s been amazing how many times he hasn’t been available for my PT sessions, so Hembry has me in with Diana.”
“She good?”
“Excellent,” he said with a smile. “No nonsense, no bullshit, in and out, job done.”
“He must be talking about you. Hey, Slater,” one of the tight ends said as he passed, “in and out and gone again.”
“Really?” I called after him. “That’s not what your girl said!”
He flipped me the finger, and I laughed when he got yelled at by Coach Sutherland for the gesture. I turned back and found Dante staring at me.
“Why are you giving me the sad baby blues?” I asked with a sigh.
“Does she know it’s just a hookup?”
“Have you met her?” I asked him. “Do you think my shit is going to fly withher? She knew what it was, she was fine with it.” And she was fine, mighty fine. But it was just a hookup.
She knew that. I knew that. Job done.
Dante gave a brisk nod. “Alright, then. We have two redshirts today, one’s a left guard.” He saw my look.
Redshirts — players who practiced with the team but hadn’t played in official games yet, preserving an extra year of eligibility. They showed up in spring training like hungry dogs trying to prove they deserved a spot.
“Just play your game — they fit, they fit. They don’t, whatever.”
“The other?”
Dante sighed. “Center.”
I eyed him. “You’re telling me to roll with it when we have a redshirt center handling the snaps? Damn. I knew this was going to be a good day.”
“I hate you,” he called out after me as I ran to the sidelines.