Jake prowled the sidelines, his eyes riveted to each play. He clapped, cheered, scolded, and encouraged his players, even as he worked to keep his mind off of the person dominating his thoughts, the woman who’d had the nerve to show up at the game with a date! As if by sixth sense, he’d looked up just in time to see her climb the bleachers with what looked like a man plucked from the Bill Pickett rodeo. It was the twenty-first century. What dude wore a shoestring tie these days? Still, a wave of jealousy had swept over him, especially when the man had touched Dominique’s arm and guided her into the bleachers before taking the aisle seat. The man was about six feet, on the slender side, and looked like he spent a considerable amount of time in the mirror. Just like her to want a pretty boy, a little eye candy on her arm. Jake had never felt so possessive, not even with his former wife. But in seeing them, Jake had the urge to walk over and throttle the dude, the man who had the nerve to mess with his woman. My woman? Jake admonished himself, pushed the thought aside, and refocused on the game. Mine. The thought returned with fervor, it would not be denied. Because that’s what Dominique felt like to him—his woman. He sighed with the impossibility of it all.

Jake’s and Dominique’s thoughts about each other diminished under the Saturday sun and a fourth-quarter score with the Spartans leading by three. The Hurricanes were less than two minutes away from experiencing the loss Jake had warned them about. This was sixth-grade football but by the tension in the stands you couldn’t tell. Nails were chewed and muscles tensed as if this were the play-offs and money was on the line. Dominique’s eyes were glued to number twenty-one.

“Black cat straight!” Jake shouted out the call. Players scrambled into position. Shawn winked at Jake, who gave a curt nod in response. All of the players on the bench stood in solidarity as the active players took their places on the field. The opposing team’s fans shouted with ferocity, trying to shake the concentration of the Hurricanes’ quarterback. The offensive and defensive lines crouched into position, running backs traded places, centers ferociously looked each other dead in the eye.

“Two, zero, one, one, hike!” The center flicked the ball into Kareem Alexander’s capable hands. Kareem’s father had transferred him over to Middleton specifically because Jake coached there. Observing his natural throwing talent, Jake had moved him from running back to quarterback. Would the move pay off?