Colt's Game : A Playing for Keeps Story

And You Would Be?

Nikki

My chest burns as I gulp down huge lungfuls of air. There's no rest for the best. At least, that's what my father always told me.

Everyone always underestimated me because I was usually the quiet one of the team, the one that stayed to themselves, but what they didn't know was I would outwork anyone put in front of me, or I would die trying. Competition is in my blood.

I'm getting my college degree thanks to my full track and field scholarship. Not the sport I would have chosen to spend the next four years working on, but I wasn't going to complain. In fact, I was going to work until I couldn't get any better.

I start on my round of HIIT exercise and am surprised to see that for the first time since classes started, I'm not alone in the small intramural field. A man is there with me. Most young women in my position would be scared, but I'm more focused on his form and how fucked up it is. He must be one of the students. He's throwing a football at some pop-back cloth targets.

After watching him throw at least fifty passes and only connect with thirteen of them, I just can't sit back and watch any longer.

I grab my bag, my water, and make my way over to where he is.

"You're here late."

"Holy shit!" The ball slips out of his hand just as he was in the motion of throwing, and it falls less than three feet away. "What the fuck. Where did you come from?"

He takes a step back from me and tries to catch his breath. I had no intention of scaring him, but now that I have, it's the most hilarious thing I've seen all day.

I put a hand over my mouth to keep myself from laughing any harder.

"Harty har . . . you make it a habit of sneaking up on people in the dead of night?"

I clear my throat. "No, I wasn't sneaking up on you. It's not my fault your situational awareness sucks."

"My situational awareness? Are you crazy? It's almost nine at night. Why would I need situational awareness right now?"

"For reasons like this, besides, you should always know who is on the field with you. No matter what time it is."

He shakes his head. "Yeah, whatever. Did you want something? I'm busy."

"No, I was just observing. You just start playing?"

"You always ask this many questions?

"I've asked one question. You always this much of an asshole?"

"Yeah, always," he answers with a snap. He picks up another football, winds up, and throws. I was wrong. His form isn't that bad, it's his fucking release that is horrible.

"You need to bring your release point further up," I tell him as he goes through his motion again.

"Excuse me?"

"Your launch point, the release point," I say again, if he played football for any length of time, especially in the quarterback position, he should know what I'm talking about. Though the look on his face makes me believe that he might not. "Your release point is the spot in your throwing motion—"

He cuts me off. "I know what a release point is. What I'm trying to figure out is why some little girl is trying to tell me about it or what could possibly have given her the idea that I wanted any tips? Not sure what you're getting at but believe me when I say I don't need any help here." He takes a step closer to me, crossing his arms over his chest. "Unless, of course, that's how you pick guys up. If that's the case, then I'd be happy to show you a good time."

"And there goes the last of my give a fucks," I scoff at him and throw my hands up before I turn to walk away. I don't have time to deal with him or his massive ego.

I grew up with five brothers along with all their friends. None of whom could ever handle it when I whipped their ass at whatever sport. If this jerk is too stupid to take a critique because I'm a girl, then he can just suck for all I care.

I catch a glimpse of him again as I make my way out of the small field. He's slowed down his motion and is actually working on his release point. I watch him throw a few passes at the target, six out of seven on point.

I guess he's not as stupid as I thought he was.