He threw his head back and roared with laughter. “Damn right we are!”

It was nice to see his features back in place when he stood. He whistled for the doctor, but I waved him off. “Somebody just help me up.”

“Are you sure?”

I nodded. “I just had the wind knocked out of me. Nothing like five hundred pounds of angry teenage boys tackling you.” It was more like seven hundred but I was tough and wanted to play it down. I was lucky and I knew it. I took off my helmet when they pulled me up, anxious to rinse out my mouth.

Coach handed me a water bottle. “Let’s shake hands when you’re ready,” he said.

My team stayed with me until I was ready to lead them to midfield where the Hilltop Hawkeyes waited in defeat. Some of the parents were yelling for their kids to get off the field, but we had media coverage, so their coach made them wait. I rinsed my mouth again until the metallic taste was gone. I tightened my ponytail, grabbed my helmet, and jogged to midfield with my team a half a step behind me.

“Good game.” The Hawkeyes head coach hated everything about me.

I ignored his painful grip and smiled, ensuring my dimples popped. What a total asshole! “Thanks, Coach.” I moved on, anxious to get in front of Grayson Moats.

Some of the guys muttered “good game” when we shook hands, while others had less than nice things to say like “bitch” or “lesbo.” I smiled anyway, making zero friends in the process.

When I reached Grayson, I stopped. “Looks like the better quarterback won.” I shrugged like it was no big deal when I knew it was everything. Not only did their offense score a mere seventeen points, but he sucked during one of the most important games of his high school life with home field advantage. He would still go on to play at Michigan State and probably the NFL, but I had him in the moment, and he would always have the blemish of not going to state his senior year because he was beaten by a girl.

He sneered. “You might have won the game, but I won the girl.”

I gritted my teeth and shrugged like that didn’t hurt more than anything ever in my life. He fist-pumped. “This game meant nothing. I’m still going to college and the NFL while you’re stuck here doing what? Working at Marshall’s? Oh, maybe you’ll get promoted to manager in ten years.”

I was six feet tall, but Grayson had at least four inches on me. That didn’t stop me from getting in his face. “I have no idea what Parker sees in you. You’re just a nasty boy.”