Pittsburgh was known for their short game. They were big-ass sons of bitches who were better at barreling through the defense than throwing long bombs down the field. None of their defenders matched Garrett’s or Nance’s speed, though. Hell, they couldn’t match Ward’s either, but despite Ward’s experience in the league and the fact that he was an incredible running back who played smart football, no one was as fast off the line as G. Once he got his legs under him a bit and got used to football at this level, no one would be able to fuck with him.
“You nervous about tomorrow?” I asked.
“Nah, I’m good.” Garrett adjusted himself, and I didn’t hide that I was watching.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re two seconds away from tearing my clothes off.”
“In your dreams. You do that, you know? Dream about me… Say my name in your sleep over and over again.”
“The lie detector has determined that is a lie. I don’t even want you anymore. Kissed you, wasn’t that good, got it out of my system.”
I laughed my ass off, and then for shits and giggles, laughed some more. We both knew that wasn’t true, but then, Garrett could say the same thing about me.
“Shut up and go to bed, Rams. We have a game tomorrow.”
I hit the lights, then climbed into bed before getting serious for a minute. “It’s okay to be nervous.”
“Is it okay to want to strangle you in your sleep? Asking for me.”
When I passed out, it was with a smile on my face. Why the fuck was Baby G so much fun?
We were killing it. We were up by twenty-one points, and it was the last drive of the game—Pittsburgh with the ball. We were running off the field as the defense took their places on it. The second I hit the sideline, I opened my mouth for one of the water guys to hydrate me. It was weird as fuck, other people squirting water into your mouth, but it was a thing that happened, so I went with it.
I glanced over to see Garrett doing the same, and the motherfucker winked at me, because of course he did.
We’d been on fire tonight. If Garrett had been nervous, it hadn’t affected his game. We’d come in expecting to beat Pittsburgh, but not a blowout.
We didn’t allow ourselves to celebrate early on the sideline. I turned and watched as Hammond pummeled their running back just shy of the first down.
“Jesus, I feel like I can’t fucking stay still.” Garrett slid up beside me. “Like I’m going to burst out of my skin.”
“Yeah, great, isn’t it? I love the adrenaline of a game, and the high that comes with winning.”
“Me too.”
Pittsburgh fought their asses off, trying to make some dent in our lead despite having no chance of winning, but the time ran out just as Bette tackled their tight end.
The W was ours.
“Fuck yes!” Garrett screamed as our D came running off the field.
We were back-slapping, ass-grabbing, congratulating each other, when Alice Andrews, from NBC Sports, came jogging over. “Ramsey, Garrett, can I grab the two of you together?”
“Sure thing. Just make sure you get me from my good side.” Garrett tugged off his helmet.
“You have one of those?” I teased, making Alice laugh.
She shoved a mic in our faces, and the camera was rolling. “The two of you have great chemistry on the field, but it seems you have it off it too.”
“Eh, he’s all right,” I joked.
“Do you think that has anything to do with Garrett being Houston McRae’s little brother? You and Houston were a beautiful thing to watch, and now it’s his younger brother trying to fill his shoes.”
I felt Garrett stiffen beside me.
“He’s not trying to fill anyone’s shoes. Garrett’s a great player, who’s playing his game and helping the team get to where we want to be, just like Houston played his. Think we can stop with the comparisons and appreciate the fact that the Rush have been lucky enough to have two McRae brothers who are their own people and are both class acts on and off the field?” I hated this shit. Unlike G, if I could play ball and not have the rest of the hoopla, I would. I hated this side of it—the attention and being a star.
Alice paused for a moment, the surprise clear in her wide, blue eyes. “Oh, I didn’t mean… That pass in the third, though, when Garrett had a man on him, but you still managed to get the ball in his hands.”
“He was good enough to leave me just the amount of space I needed to get the ball where it belongs—in his hands. We’re teammates. It’s what we do.”
She turned to G next. “Garrett, there’s a lot of talk about you around the league already. Your first game of the season, and you ran for 175 yards, got one touchdown, and helped get your team to 1:0.”