A shy high school senior jock and a closed-off girl battling an immune disorder fake a relationship to win a social media contest.
Being shy isn't easy, especially when you're the new kid at school. Scotts Valley's football program is subpar compare...
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"Another one?" I teased Mom and pointed to the newest addition to our fridge.
"Hush. I still get the Sentinel, who mentioned you in the league notes." She frowned. "Plus, I finally found the fridge magnets."
She had. I was hoping the football jerseys with my and Logan's numbers painted on them would've gotten lost or broken in the move, but she found them. My old number 18 meant as little as my new number 83.
"Santa Cruz's loss is Scotts Valley's gain," I read off the article, crossing my arms and skimming the rest. Unlike my teammates, Coach Sal was understanding about my leaving.
"Are you sure, Brody?" Coach Sal's disappointment was written all over his face, and he leaned against his front door's frame. "Now? A month before senior year? Does this have anything to do with your changing home situation?"
I squeezed my hands inside my pockets and shifted on his front porch step. Three years building up to my best varsity season made my shoulders slump, and pain clutched my heart.
"Yeah." I bowed my head. "Good luck this season."
"You too, Brody. We'll miss you." His hand on my shoulder lifted my gaze. "I meant it when I promised to write those recommendation letters."
Pressure strained behind my eyes. Swallowing the dryness in my throat, I nodded. "Thank you, Sir."
I hit Coach Sal up for those letters before he got too busy with the Cardinals' camp. He delivered, sending six to Division 1 schools and one to Coach Walters here. My teammates weren't as supportive, with the evidence remaining on my phone. Only Aaron, the tight end, knew my situation with Dad. So much for being my closest friend; his reaction was the worst.
AB 🏈: Couldn't tell me you're fucking abandoning us? AB 🏈: You're a coward. AB 🏈: Good luck on the losing side.
I didn't respond, not because I disagreed, but nothing would change their minds. The schedule posted next to Mom's growing article collection reminded me the Santa Cruz game was over a month away, but I already felt the pressure.
"Let me have my mom moments for one more season," her shooing hands interrupted my thoughts. "You need to get going. Any more surprises on the field? Should I expect you to perform at halftime with the band?"
"No." I shook my head and laughed, which died when her hands clamped on my shoulders and tears rose in her eyes.
"Be careful, Brody." She sniffled. "Since you ate all my doughnuts after the last game, I assume you want me to pick up some more."
Mom spoke like she wasn't the one obsessed with those apple cider doughnuts. She ate one with her morning coffee at work and brought home six after the game. I ate four of them.
"If you want. I don't care." I blushed at the idea of her talking to Paige. Our relationship was staying a secret from Mom as long as possible. Subtle was the last word to describe her, and one whiff of school gossip would direct her nose straight into my business.
