The Guy Named Harrison: Book One

65

Carrie Fisher was the best.

"Let's go."

Harrison simply stood in front of her with a smile. "You sure?"

She nodded. "I didn't get all dressed up for nothing."

"Alright. I'll try not to hurt you."

Carrie just laughed. "You don't pack that much of a punch."

He put both hands on his hips. "Okay rookie. Would you like me to hit you as hard as I hit in games?"

"Let's see it."

She picked up the football and jogged away from him to stand in between the two tackle bags. Harrison was working on his footwork. She choose a direction, either straight, left, or right, and he had to quickly tackle her.

Carrie wore his white practice jersey with his name and number on it, white football pants, a white long sleeve shirt and socks. Harrison gave her his second set of pads and she wore his prototype Vicis helmet. The long sleeve undershirt had small elbow pads and padding around the ribs. He actually found a pair of leggings with thigh, knee, and shin pads that she wore under a pair of white football pants. And her hair was pulled up in a bun that stuck out just under her helmet.

"I'm going to steal your job," she teased.

"We'll see about that sweetheart until you have the resume like mine."

"Okay Mr. Defensive Player of the Year."

She tucked the ball between her arm and body. "Ready?"

"Yep."

Harrison waited for her to make the first move. He took a step back as her left foot pointed left. As she started to run, he caught her before she could even totally passed the tackle bag.

The impact of his shoulder hitting her hip was enough to take both of them down. Just the way Harrison tackled, he usually landed on whoever he was tackling. That was the same with Carrie. She landed on her back as he landed on top of her. But his momentum was enough to make it quick, as he rolled off her and onto his feet.

He held a hand out for her. "How'd that feel?"

After a few seconds, she took his hand. "That one was a little harder."

Harrison pulled Carrie to her feet and patted her shoulder. "That's about the force of one of my tackles in a game."

"That made me feel like I got hit by a truck."

"One of my tackles is about the force of getting hit by a truck. ESPN did this show called SportsScience a few years ago and they measured it."

"More like a semi."

He smiled. "You ready for another one?"

"Yeah."

Carrie truly was the best. She was amazing, but she also dressed up in full pads to help him work on his footwork. This was true love at its best.

❺❾

Later that night, the two of them had a fire. It was early December and after being out in the cold practicing almost the entire day, they both needed some warmth.

Carrie came back out with two mugs of hot chocolate. She handed one to Harrison, and set the other on the ground as he held the blanket up for her.

She made him carry the big beanbag chair from the living room outside onto the deck where they sat in front of the fire. Carrie sat down on him and under the three blankets they'd been using for warmth. Even with three blankets, her heavy Panthers jacket, Panthers winter hat, and his body heat, Carrie was still freezing.

Just as she sat down, Harrison stuck his hands up her shirt. Carrie began to squirm. "Stop it! Your hands are cold!"

He laughed, and kept his hands where they were until she pulled them out. "You're mean."

Harrison rested his chin on her shoulder and just looked at her. "Am I?"

"Yes."

"I don't think so."

His hands were now around her waist and he moved to allow her to rest her head against him. "I'm a nice man."

Carrie shook her head, getting him to smile. "I'll show you then."