Away Games (The Brat & The Beast Duet Book 2.5) by Misha Horne

Author:Misha Horne [Horne, Misha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-06-12T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

Maddox poured all their money into football, sure. Ask the art kids and band kids how much athletes went without when the fundraiser dollars got split up. But Westchester Wildcats were a big city team, living a whole different lifestyle, and their athletic building spelled that out in giant letters— and a giant Wolves mural along the whole outside wall.

Their weight room was next level, they had flat screens everywhere, and the benches in their locker rooms were fucking padded. Which, to be real, was a perk I would have enjoyed at home. No other team we played had a stadium as big or grass as green, and I’d be lying if I said I hated taking warm ups on their field, but goddamn did I hate the Wolves and all the top tier shit they got handed just because they lived in the right zip code.

Lucky for everybody, I played best when I had a chip on my shoulder, and my shoulders felt especially wide and that chip felt especially heavy.

It was always a little jarring stepping out on Westchester’s field, the amount of people they packed into their stands, what a difference that made, the distraction and anticipation and overwhelm that came with so much crowd noise. It was one of those things I could never fully decide if I loved or hated.

Some people had no problem figuring it out.

“Look at this fucking show,” Ellis screamed at me, spinning around and launching, banging his helmet on my pads and then grabbing me around the neck, pulling me forehead to forehead. Even that close, I could barely hear him when he said, “Just keep him upright, I got this.”

I nodded and he shook me hard by the shoulders before he turned and bolted out of the pack, ready to tear shit up. I took a deep breath and scanned the crowd, needing that little something extra, needing all the extra and knowing exactly where to find it.

At home in familiar territory and with fewer seats, it was dead easy to spot Caleb. Know where he was all game so I could look over and reorient myself every time I got up from a hard hit, let him see that I was okay. Away games were harder, but him being a head taller than just about everyone on the planet made it a lot easier to track him and I got lucky with my first quick sweep and saw him standing up a few rows back around the thirty-yard line.

He was too far away to make real eye contact, but I knew he was watching me. And that was all I really needed to get that extra jolt of steam. I wanted this game— needed it in a way I couldn’t really explain. Coach T was packing a grudge, but I was dealing with something else. Some need to prove myself, push myself, some gut feeling that I was steps away from something falling into place in my head.

I

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