Losing the Field

by Abbi Glines

  “I’ll sit to the far left toward the top. If you need to . . . look away. Or just take a moment. Find me. I’ll be there.”

  I hadn’t ever looked up into the crowd while on that field. My head had been on the game only. Nothing else. But tonight, knowing I had her to look back at—it helped. “Thanks. I’ll find you before it starts. So I know where I’m looking.”

  She reached for her door, and I opened mine quickly. “No, wait,” I told her, climbing down and jogging around the front of my SUV to get her door for her. “My momma would beat my ass if I let a woman open a door.”

  “And my momma would say, ‘Tallulah, don’t ever depend on a man for anything. You can do it all. If you want one, fine. But don’t ever need one.’ ”

  My chest rumbled with laughter. I liked that. If I had a daughter, I would tell her the same thing. “My momma needs to get to know yours. They’d like each other.”

  Tallulah stepped out and looked at the field. “Time to stop procrastinating. Go on. They’re expecting you at the field house.”

  “I was going to walk you to the gate first,” I told her.

  She shook her head. “You see that line up there? It will take too long. I’m a big girl. I got this. Now go be part of your team.”

  I started to say something but decided that we’d had enough time to soak in that first kiss. Because right now I needed the second one. Closing the distance between us, I slid a hand around her waist and tugged her close before placing my mouth firmly on hers. Just enough pressure to taste her. When she opened to me, my knees felt weak, and I let my enjoyment go on a little longer. This could get me through anything.

  It was her that pulled back this time. Then, with a gentle shove, she whispered, “Go on.”

  I did. Glancing back just once before I headed to join the others. I was late. They’d complain, but what could they really do? It wasn’t like I was playing. I was just there for support. As if they needed more.

  Just before I got down the hill that led to the field house, I smelled the distinct scent of weed. Pausing, I surveyed the area, and the tiny orange burn on the paper caught my attention. Stepping out of the darkness was a guy who looked somewhat familiar. But I couldn’t place him. He didn’t live around here. That much was obvious. His pale blond hair brushed his shoulders, and the tight jeans he was wearing, along with the shirt that had holes in it but you could tell it was purchased like that, screamed out-of-towner.

  He smirked at me. Took one last drag, then dropped it to the gravel before stepping on it and walking off. The dude was going to just leave pot right there. Was he serious?

  “What the fuck?” I said, and he paused. Gave me one more look.

  “Problem?” he asked with amusement in his tone.

  “This is Alabama, man. Pot’s not fucking legal.” Not that I wasn’t guilty of smoking some a time or two.

  The guy nodded. “Don’t have to remind me where I am. This is my hell now,” he said, holding out both his arms and backing away.

  I was late. I had no time to argue with him about tossing weed down on the ground. “Whatever,” I muttered, and left him there.

  God, Could This Place Be Any More Cliché?

  CHAPTER 21

  TALLULAH

  Throughout the first half Nash looked up at me four times. That’s all I had seen. Him. I’d watched him the entire time. Studied his stance, how he interacted with the others, and hoped this wasn’t as difficult as it appeared it was.

  Not to anyone else. He was slapping guys on the back. Talking to them about plays and cheering them on. It was when he had to look back at me that I knew this was killing him. His needing my reassurance and support said more than any acting job he did on that field.

  The team had gone into the field house, and the fans were up talking, getting snacks, and I was alone. No one really knew me. I was used to this. Being without a group of friends. What I wasn’t used to was people noticing me. I felt eyes on me. I was no longer ignored. Needing to get away from the crowd and all the chattering, I went to find a quieter spot. Take a breather and not feel as if I stood out, sitting there with no one around me. No one to talk to.

  When you reached the bottom of the stands, to your right was the concession stand and restrooms. The herd was headed that way. Filling in every available patch of grass. I went left. Fewer people, more room to move. I kept going until the back gate that led to the overflow parking lot was in my view. No one was there. I walked over to the gate to wait for the crowd to move on and there was no one around. It was darker back here, and there was no view of the field. Not a popular place to be unless it was two teenagers making out.

  “This place is whacked, and you sitting up there all alone is just fucking sad. What did you do? Kill the town’s favorite pup?”

  The masculine voice startled me. It wasn’t familiar nor was it from around here. There was no accent. At all. Nothing. Weird. And possibly unsafe. I spun around to see a guy leaning against the fence farther in the shadows. He was alone. From what I could make out, he had longish hair, and it was such a light color it reflected the moonlight.

  I didn’t know him. And I’d seen enough CSI to know this wasn’t the best idea, to stand out here alone with this stranger. I began moving away.

  He laughed. It was a rich, amused laugh. “God, could this place be any more cliché?”

  I paused.

  “Football on Friday nights, fucking cowboy boots on with a blue-jean skirt, lettermen jackets on girls’ shoulders, and it’s still eighty goddamn degrees out here. Oh, and the cowbells. Can’t forget the cowbells. Those are priceless.” He ended his rant and pulled out a lighter. When the small flame lit, he held a cigarette to his lips. “Don’t call for the cops, Daisy May. It’s just regular ole nicotine.”

  I should have gone, forgotten this completely. But he shifted, and the light that was peeping over the stands from the lights on the field illuminated and I saw him clearer. He didn’t seem dangerous. He was tall, slender; something caught the light on both his ears, and I saw that his white-blond hair was much longer than I had thought. It was tucked behind his ears. The clothes he was wearing stood out the most. He wasn’t dressed like a guy from Lawton. He reminded me of someone from 90210. And he was calling us cliché?

  “Which one of those meatheads do you belong to? Gotta be one of them. You can’t take your eyes off that field. I’d have noticed you anyway because you’re a stunner, but you know that already. I’ve seen a lot of beautiful women. Not like you’re unique. But I do notice when people behave out of the norm. You’ve got on your Daisy May costume, but you aren’t acting like the others. You don’t care that you are alone, nor do you check to see if people are watching you. Hell, I watched you for over an hour, and you never looked my way. Fascinating as fuck.”

  I didn’t like this guy. Walking off was the best idea. But he was right. I was alone, and I would have to go right back up there while they all talked excitedly about the two-touchdown lead we had and stuffed their faces with nachos.

  “Who are you?” I asked instead.

  He chuckled, took a couple more steps into the light. I could see him clearly now. His bright green eyes were unnatural and had to be contacts. If not, he was an alien, or possibly a vampire, and I’d just stepped into one of my paranormal books I loved so much. My bet was it was simply contacts. “Do you still need an answer, or do you know?” he asked.

  How the heck would I know who he was just because he was standing in the light? “We’ve never met. I’d remember your fake eye color and diamond-studded earrings,” I replied in a more annoyed tone than I meant to.

  He ran a hand over his face and muffled more amusement. “This place really is antiquated. Tell me—do you all have smartphones, or is it still flip phones? Or better yet, landlines?”

  I had never had a more confusing conversation in my life. He was jumping from one subject to the next. Halftime was about to end, and I needed to get to my seat. This was a waste of time. />
  I turned and started to walk away.

  “The one with the limp, that one’s yours,” he called out.

  I wasn’t convinced this guy was safe. He was a bit creepy with his knowledge. Stalker like.

  “He’s the only one on that field who wishes he was somewhere else.”

  I agreed. But then I had been studying Nash all night. Paying attention to his body language. Worrying about him. I glared back at the guy one more time. “Who are you!” I demanded.

  He tilted his head and ran his hand through his long hair like some model in a commercial. It was odd and annoying all at once. He really liked himself. He was the male version of Blakely. Except I would guess he was smarter. This conversation had been the weirdest one in my life to date, but he hadn’t spoken like an empty-headed ditz. I was beginning to worry he was a serial killer, with his deep observations and interest in people he didn’t know.

  “You ever watched YouTube? Or do the folks down here know what the Internet is?” The way he asked the last part was with a very bad imitation drawl. Like he was making fun of the way we talked.

  “You’ve got to be the rudest person I have ever spoken to,” I replied. “Of course we have smartphones, we use personal laptops in the classroom, our textbooks are all online, and although I don’t watch YouTube, I do know what it is. My mother watches cooking tutorials on it all the time.” After I said all that I wished I could take it back. I should have walked away. This guy was not stable. He was sketchy. And I needed to shut up and go on.

  The scoreboard buzzed, ending halftime.

  “I have to go,” I said before moving away from him, and quickly. He didn’t call out anything else. I made it to the stairs and headed up to my seat, not once glancing back to see if he was following me. When I reached my seat and sat down, I was suddenly thankful to be surrounded by all the people. It was comforting. I found Nash, and he turned to look up at me just as I spotted him. He smiled. I let out a sigh of relief that I was here and back where I was supposed to be. He gave me a small salute and went back to talking to Ryker, who was in full pads standing beside him.

  For the first time all night I took in my surroundings. I saw the groups of people and noticed the cowbells being shaken loudly from the stands. Blue shakers covered the place, and cheers for the Lions rang in the air. I started to return my gaze to Nash when my eyes locked on the guy. He was at the bottom, in the farthest left corner. He wasn’t sitting, and no one seemed to notice him. His focus was on me. When he saw me looking back, he smirked and nodded his head toward the field in Nash’s direction, then ducked out. He was gone, and I was more than glad to see him go.

  Nice to See How the Other Half Lived

  CHAPTER 22

  NASH

  The smell of the bonfire was a Friday night norm. What I knew. Coming here had been the last thing I wanted to do, but I needed a beer. I also didn’t want to chance Tallulah trying to talk to me about tonight. About the game. How it felt. That kind of thing. I was moody. I wanted to be alone.

  Asking Tallulah out for after the game had been me hoping that would get my mind off things. The mood the game would put me in hadn’t been something I had considered. Here we were now. Ryker talking about the one play of the game he scored. It had been impressive. And he wanted to recap it. Over and over.

  That had been me last year and the year before. It annoyed me now, but I drank my beer and kept my mouth shut. Tallulah didn’t seem relaxed or like she was enjoying this. I didn’t blame her. I wasn’t much fun. If I wanted another date with her, I needed to try harder. Stop being a damn baby about the game.

  They’d won by three touchdowns. It had been a fairly easy win. If I wasn’t so fucking self-absorbed with my pity party, I’d be happy for them. I was trying to be, but it wasn’t coming through. I slipped an arm around Tallulah’s waist and tugged her closer to me. “Sorry this is boring,” I whispered.

  She turned her head and tilted it back slightly to look up at me. Up close she was flawless. I hadn’t thought about that earlier. I’d been too busy with that kiss. Now I could appreciate it.

  “I’m not bored. Just taking it all in. This is what y’all have been up to for the past three years on Friday nights while I sat in my room with a book. Nice to see how the other half lived.” The smile curving her lips was teasing.

  “I’m sure with all this excitement you regret missing every moment of it,” I replied.

  She sighed dramatically. “Well of course I do. One cannot get enough of Ryker replaying his best moment on the field fifty different ways, or Blakely doing everything but stripping to keep Hunter’s attention on her alone. The best are the cheerleaders, who still think they need to do routines after they’ve drunk a few too many.”

  I laughed loudly. She was right. Completely. Her description could not have been more accurate. “I can assume you will be on board with attending all these with me this year, then?” There was no way I was coming to these every Friday night. It didn’t hold the same appeal as it once had. I no longer fit. But I was sure she knew that.

  She pressed a finger to her chin as if in deep thought. Then gave me a serious expression meant to be mocking. “Only if Asa and Ryker will talk incessantly about themselves and the cheerleaders will be a little more annoying. Then possibly I will return.”

  I squeezed her waist. “I’d say I will see what I can do, but I am pretty sure those are all a given.” I nodded my head toward the trees, where all the cars were parked behind. “Let’s go.”

  She smiled. “Good.”

  I turned back to the group that hadn’t even realized we’d been in our own private conversation. “We’re out. Y’all party on,” I called.

  They didn’t ask me why I was going. But I could see surprise in their eyes. I normally shut these parties down.

  I waved as they called out good-byes, but I didn’t stay around long enough for them to ask me to stay. Or where we were headed. Tallulah responded to those who told her they were glad she had come. Although these people had ignored her in the past, she was polite. Didn’t seem to hold bitterness toward them.

  “I swear he was there,” a girl with a loud high-pitched voice said from the group we were passing.

  “You’re insane. There is no way that Haegan Baylor was in Lawton, Alabama, at a football game. You need to stop watching him so much. You’re starting to hallucinate,” Blakely said.

  “I know Haegan Baylor. I would know the back of his head if that is all I saw. I’ve seen every YouTube video he has ever done. He posts a new vlog three times a week. And he said he was moving in his last vlog. He was here!” The other girl I now recognized as Pamela was loudly defending her belief.

  “Sorry, Pam. I don’t believe that. No one else saw him,” Blakely replied.

  We kept walking, but I noticed Tallulah’s attention was drawn to their conversation. “You know who this Haegan Baylor is?” I asked her. She didn’t seem like one who would watch vloggers. I’d never watched one, but Blakely watched a couple weekly like it was part of her life. Then she talked about them constantly, as if I cared.

  Tallulah looked away from them, then shook her head. “No, I’m not sure what a vlog is.”

  That was shocking. But then this was Tallulah. She was different. Which I loved.

  “There are these people who do these videos, kind of like a reality television show, and then post them on YouTube. Some are better at it than others. Many have gotten famous from it. They call themselves vloggers. But from what I’ve seen, it’s mostly teens videoing boring shit they do and doing stupid stuff to get more viewers.”

  Tallulah frowned. “They get famous? Seriously?”

  “Yep. Blakely was stressing out over getting some backpack for school back in June that one of those vloggers she likes was selling in his merch store.”

  “His what?” she asked incredulously.

  “They sell merchandise in online stores. The popular ones do.” I thought it was crazy too, but Blakely was worr
ied it would sell out and was on her computer at the time it was released to be sure to get it. I’d forgotten about that until now.

  We reached my truck, and Tallulah paused at the door. “I think . . .” Then she shook her head. “Never mind.”

  I opened her door, and she climbed inside. I wanted to know what she was going to say, but I didn’t push her. I still needed to come up with somewhere for us to go. I didn’t want to take her home just yet.

  When I was inside, I saw her yawn and cover it up with her hand. I wasn’t ready to give her up, but I knew she was tired. “You’re sleepy,” I said to her.

  If she argued, I was going to keep her longer.

  “Yeah, a little,” she agreed.

  Damn.

  “Okay then, we can call it a night.” I paused. “What are you doing tomorrow?” That may have sounded a little too needy. But it came out before I could think it through.

  She ducked her head, and I could see the smile on her face. She liked that I had asked. I felt better about it. “I help Mom clean the house on Saturday mornings. We’re normally finished around one in the afternoon. Then, nothing really.”

  Fuck being cool. I wasn’t cool anymore anyway. “There’s a trail I like to hike. Goes to a cold spring that’s pretty this time of year. I think you’d like it.” I hadn’t dated a girl I thought would enjoy this. I always hiked it alone.

  “Sounds nice. I’m sure I would.”

  “Would you be ready by three?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Yeah. Three is good.”

  And just like that my first Friday night not spent in pads and playing the sport I loved turned into something better.

  Something about a Unicorn Wall

  CHAPTER 23

  TALLULAH

  The tenderness when I first opened my eyes and swallowed made me pause. That was not good. Today I could not get sick. I threw my covers off and went downstairs, trying to ignore the slow-building headache. My stomach turned as I opened the fridge, and I had to stop and lean against the counter a moment. I was suddenly weak.