The way our stadium was set up, there was a fence separating the track and field from the stands. Eli stood behind it, elevated just above me.
A few of my players’ mothers interrupted me and Eli before he could say anything else, offering me words of good luck and inviting me to their house for a party after the game. I politely declined, and rolled my eyes at Eli’s knowing smirk before turning back to my players.
We were the Stratford High Wild Cats, and Eli always called the moms who blatantly hit on me The Stratford High Cougars.
“Lost quite a few seniors last year,” Eli said when we were alone again, his eyes on the field now. “You think you got boys who can step up and take their spots?”
“We’ll find out soon enough,” I murmured, leaning against the gate that separated the bleachers from the field.
He hung his arms over the top railing. “You got a lot of eyes on you this year.”
I nodded, and to anyone who looked at me, I imagined I appeared calm and collected.
Inside, I was a tornado.
“Hope you did a better job working with the offensive line in this first week of practice,” he said. “Even I could have sacked Rodgers in that first game last season.”
I smirked, because this was always Eli’s game. He’d play nice, give a few compliments or offer up a few generalized statements, and then he’d tell me what he was really thinking.
“Well, I tell you what. If Rodgers gets sacked tonight, consider yourself welcome to practice Monday morning to whip that O-line into shape.”
“Famous last words, Coach.”
I smiled over my shoulder at him, tapping the top of the fence twice before I made my way toward the water table. Sydney stood beside it with her thumbnail between her teeth, a giant bag of athletic training supplies on the ground at her feet. Her eyes were like cars on the highway, speeding back and forth, watching the players on the field like she was ready to grab that bag at her feet and sprint onto the green at a moment’s notice.
She’d worked hard over the past week and a half, especially when one of our linebackers had a pretty severe turf toe injury. And, blessedly and most importantly, she’d stayed out of my way. Sydney showed up, did her job, worked with the guys who needed her and handled the ones who gave her a hard time without needing help from me.
I knew the twins on our defense — Bradley and Boone — would give her hell. They were by far the most girl crazy and tended to feed off each other as the team clowns. But, to her credit, Sydney was unfazed by them, and in just ten days she had a reputation with the team.
She was knowledgeable. They could trust her with their injuries.
What’s more, they respected her — and they knew she took no shit.
I still felt a little guilty for the way I’d welcomed her onto the team, but it seemed to be all but forgotten between us. We didn’t necessarily apologize or forgive, but we’d had civil conversation, and we’d done our jobs in the vicinity of each other for a week and a half now.
We were finding a rhythm, even if it was a little off tune to start.
“Nervous?” I asked, grabbing one of the plastic cups on the table and filling it with Gatorade.
“No,” she answered quickly. “Just alert.”
Her eyes never left the field, and I smiled, leaning against the table beside her as I took a drink. “I’m a little nervous.”
Sydney snapped her attention to me, all but breaking her neck in the process. “You? Really?”
I nodded. “If you tell anyone, I’ll deny it and fire your ass.”
“You can’t fire me,” she shot back, but a small smile bloomed on her lips. “But I won’t tell.”
“Thanks,” I said, watching our players on the field. “Two state championships… it’s a lot to live up to. I mean, look around us,” I said, but my eyes stayed put. “The entire town is here, and it’s only the first game and already scouts are showing up, too.”
Sydney glanced at the bleachers behind us. “It is a lot,” she admitted. “The energy is palpable.”
“Just wait until kick off.”
Sydney looked at me, and my eyes found hers, and for a moment, it felt like an olive branch had been extended between us. In the lights from the stadium, her soft brown eyes were aglow, and I let them suck me in for the briefest second.
The corner of her mouth curled, and mine did, too.
“GIVE ‘EM HELL, COACH!”
A roar of applause erupted behind us, and we both turned to find my brothers, Noah and Logan, banging on the fence and hooting and hollering like they were teenagers instead of grown ass men. They’d fired up the section of fans in the bleachers behind them, too. I smiled, waving to Mom as she passed behind them, shaking her head with flushed cheeks at her outlandish boys.