Long, bright blonde hair swished behind her as she laughed and did a little kick, trying to hold her foot up above her head for some sort of stunt. She fell out of it, laughing with the girls around her, those strawberry-pink lips stretched over her wide smile. Even from here I could see how her curves stretched against the clothing she wore, curves that had driven me and every other boy at our high school absolutely mad.

Her brown eyes flicked to me, and the smile she wore faded instantly.

I allowed myself one long, torturous moment of holding her gaze, and then I sniffed, turning back to Zeke and Riley and pretending like I was engaged in whatever conversation they were having.

It was almost time.

When we all finally made it into the locker room, it was a pathetic show of acting like we were pre-occupied with our lockers or duffle bags or cleats until Coach tacked the chart to the board outside his office before ducking inside it and shutting the door behind him.

It was pure chaos after that.

Player after player shoved to get to the chart, some retreating with their fists thrown up in victory, while others hung their heads or kicked their lockers. I hung back, sitting on the wooden bench in front of my locker and watching as Leo jumped up and down on his way to Holden, ringing him around the neck.

“Another year dominating offense together, QB1,” he said, crushing his head to Holden’s like they were wearing helmets. “Let’s fucking go!”

Holden grinned, letting Leo make a show before he gently shrugged him off and got back to the humble appearance he always wore.

Zeke had Riley on his shoulders within seconds after that, toting her around as they celebrated their spots being secured — which was a surprise to absolutely no one. And I didn’t even have to move from my seat on the bench before I was joined by Reggie and Dane, two guys who had played in the secondary with me last season.

“Bout’ta be beast mode this season, boys!” Reggie said, bumping fists with Dane first and then me. Dane was a safety, too, and we were always in friendly competition to see who could get the most interceptions.

“I’m coming for your record this year, Johnson,” he teased, holding his fists in front of his face and doing a little juke move like he was a boxer.

I sucked my teeth as I stood. “Fat chance, Daney Boy. You better make a comfortable home in that number two spot because you’re going to be there a while.”