The Playmaker (A Big Play Novel Book 1) (2 page)

#2:

Avoid At All Costs

Colt

Tori has this weird smile on her face. What else is new? That girl is one quirky chick. She gets it from her mother. Of this, I am sure. Our parents have been hanging out since we moved to Nelson seven years ago. For some weird reason, my mother felt an instant connection with Natty Lomax when the lady was going door-to-door selling handmade Christmas cards. I was happy my mom made a friend so quickly, but their friendship forced me to hang out with Tori and her older sister, Gwen, all the time. The whole Lomax family is a little weird, if you ask me, all into arts and hippie stuff. Her mom also handcrafts soaps and weird-smelling shit that makes my senses bleed every time I walk into their house.

Cameron, my kid brother, and I always made excuses to hang outside. Tori would come out to play, and before I knew it, I’d be roped into some fantasy game where the tree was a portal to another world and we had to fight dragons and evil witches. Cam loved it, and I didn’t mind so much…until we reached high school. I’m sure Tori doesn’t play that way anymore, but I’m not willing to risk it.

I have a rep to maintain, and hanging out with Tori Lomax is not going to help me do that. I like to keep my distance and stick in the Raiders’ safe zone.

Cheerleaders—okay.

Hot new girls—not a problem.

Band members and girls who study for fun—dicey.

Weird hippie chicks—avoid at all costs.

That doesn’t mean I’m going to let her smash her face on a cafeteria table, though. I felt a little sorry for her. Her face couldn’t have been redder if she tried. Her big, gray eyes stared up at me, and I was sure she was wishing for a hole in the floor. I would have been out of there in a flash, ducking the ridicule and ditching school for the day, but not Tori. That girl knows how to bounce back and there she is, sitting three rows in front of me, grinning like she’s just won an MVP medal.

“Yo, what’s up with the pixie today?” Finn points a long finger at Tori. “She paint those jeans on or what? For a girl that tiny, she’s definitely got some curves, you know what I’m sayin’?” He slaps my arm with the back of his hand and I snicker.

Finn is my best friend. We’ve been tight since kicking ass in our first scrimmage game sophomore year. He plays center and I’m a running back. He’s the guy who opens holes for me to run through. He keeps his offensive line in order, and those guys all make me look damn good. Finn is my first line of defense. He has my back on the field, and in life…but I do find it weird hearing him talk about Tori that way. I don’t know why. It’s not like
I’m
into her or anything, but she’s little Tori Lomax. I’ve known her nearly half my life, and the thought of guys leering at her just doesn’t sit right. She’s too sweet and innocent to have her curves checked out…and what the hell is with that top she’s wearing? I couldn’t keep my peripherals off her as she moved toward our table at lunch. It was the reason I was able to move so fast when she fell.

I clear my throat and shift in my seat, reprimanding myself for being an idiot. So Tori has a nice rack. Most of the girls in the school do. Tori just happens to be showing it off for once, and she’s allowed to. I saw her checking out our table, her wide gaze sweeping over Mack.

Of course she’s into him.

I wonder if he noticed her today. He was probably too busy laughing at her clumsy moves to pay any attention to how she was dressed. He’s got enough girls chasing him, he could start his own Idaho phone directory. I highly doubt he’d spare any time and attention on Tori.

Finn, on the other hand, is a little more selective. He’s never had a serious girlfriend, partly because when he tries to pick up girls he turns into a bumbling idiot. For a guy who looks like he could be the offspring of LeBron James, he does not have the moves when it comes to the ladies. His strengths lie on the field. He’s got a keen eye and can spot defensive plays before anyone else. The offensive line follows his calls without question. He makes sure the ball spends more time in the enemy’s turf than ours. I tend to trust whatever he tells me, so if he’s checking out Tori, he’s obviously seen something he likes. He’s my best friend, and if he wants to look at her then he can go ahead. She may only come up to his chest, but he doesn’t seem to care about looks the way some of the team do. Finn (aka Tank) is six-three and built like a Mack truck. Tori will look like a little kid beside him, but hey, who’s judging, right?

Miss Wilder strolls into the room with her standard mug of steaming coffee. She takes a sip, then places it on her desk before turning to face us. Her eyes remind me of fairy lights, the way they always sparkle. I’d smile back at her if I didn’t hate what she has to say every time she opens her mouth.

“So, I bet you’re all super excited about your research project required for this class. Hopefully you spent last night reviewing the syllabus deciding on a topic. I know it’s going to be a ton of reading and a two-thousand-word essay is no easy feat, but I believe in each and every one of you.” Her gaze brushes over me, her smile tightening at the edges. “If you just put in enough effort, you’ll all pass with flying colors.”

I want to flip her the bird when she looks at me again.

I had her for World History last year and ended up scraping by with a D. She was kind to me then, but she won’t do it again. Principal Matthis won’t let her. He’s been giving me heat—pressure from the school board, apparently. He and Coach Watson got in a massive argument about it last year when he threatened to pull me out before the playoffs.

See, the board is full of snobby intellectuals who want to make Nelson High look good. They say they’re trying to prepare students for the strains of college life, but whatever. According to them, extracurricular activities should take second place to academics, and athletes should not be given special treatment. A C average is now the minimum requirement to be eligible to be on any kind of team or club in the school. Slacking off will not be tolerated, and if my progress report isn’t up to scratch then I’ll get yanked out of football mid-season. I was sweating bullets sitting in the athletics assembly and having that crap shoved down my throat. How the hell am I going to get my grades up? Unlike most of my teammates, school is really hard for me.

The worst part is I can’t ask any of my friends for help. None of them have any idea about my
issues
, and like hell I’m going to admit the truth. I won’t even tell Finn.

I’d rather stick with my role of indifference. At least my rep will stay firmly intact.

The only problem is, if I continue with my
school is for losers
attitude, I could get kicked off the team. That’s my worst nightmare. Since being handed a football when I was thirteen years old, I’ve been in love with the game. It’s my salvation, and the only thing I want to do with my life. It’s the only thing I’m good at. I can’t lose it.

#3:

Phase One - Plan B

Tori

I rush in the back door of Briggs Burger House, snatching off my shades and apologizing.

“Sorry I’m late.” I wrestle the zipper of my bag open and drop my sunglasses into the front pocket. “Hey, Daddy.” I kiss my father’s sweaty cheek, then rush into the cloakroom.

Burger patties are sizzling on the grill and Dad is yelling out orders as they come in, manning the busy kitchen like he does…well, all the time. He works both lunch and dinner rushes every single day. He takes the odd weekend off, but tends to get so antsy it’s easier just having him at work. The guy is passionate about cooking, creating recipes, and being head chef at Briggs Burger House.

I tie the apron around my waist and move to the front of the most popular diner in town. Amy’s father bought the rundown joint five years ago and turned it into a family restaurant that serves gourmet burgers and pizzas. As soon as Dad saw the head chef job come up, he jumped all over it. Mr. Briggs lets him do a monthly special so his creative juices are regularly flowing. Since starting here, he’s been the happiest version of himself I’ve ever seen…when I actually see him. Gathering my thick waves into a messy bun, I wrap a hair tie around them, then shove my pen through it. It’s my standard MO and I never, ever lose my pen.

“Hey, Ames.” I nudge my bestie with my hip and grin at her.

She flicks a tendril of golden hair off her cheek and narrows her eyes at me. “Okay, the last time I saw you, you were heading for a nosebleed on the cafeteria floor and now you’re smiling like you just won the lottery. Whadup, little girl?”

I cross my arms and give her a smug smile. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh no.” Amy groans. “That’s never a good thing.”

I laugh and waltz away from her, excited to share my news, but not before taking a few orders. Amy’s dad is like a silent assassin. He never gets loud and growly, but I can feel these disgruntled vibes oozing off him when he thinks Amy and I are slacking off. I only work at Briggs when they’re short-staffed. I’m like the backup waitress. I’m sure if I ever applied for a permanent position, he’d deny me. Amy and I get too distracted and chatty when we’re working together.

“Good evening, Mr. Briggs.” I give him my best smile as I grab a notepad off the counter.

“Victoria.” He nods.

Ugh. He’s the only human on this planet who insists on calling me by my full name. I have no idea why. But I’ve had to accept it. No amount of polite, “It’s just Tori” has worked on him. Because I love Amy so much, I let him get away with it. Or maybe I’m just too chicken to get up in his face and tell him to
quit it
!

Mr. Briggs scans his clipboard. “You’re on tables ten through eighteen tonight. Wednesdays are always busy, so no messing around. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.” My playful salute earns me a deadpan stare. I grin and wink before brushing past him to attend to Table 12.

The next half hour rushes by as I collect orders and deliver food. The families with young children are starting to leave, making way for the older crowd, which is a million times easier.

I wave goodbye to the cute little girl with curly pigtails, then feel my breath hitch as she passes the guy holding the door open for her. She smiles up at him and my heart melts as he grins and winks at her. I’m unable to move as she disappears from sight and Colt fills the doorframe. He’s not as tall as some of his teammates, but he oozes strength. Even the way he walks is dynamic.

I watch his blue eyes and study the contours of his chiseled face as he gives Mr. Briggs a closed-mouth smile and then requests a table. Amy’s dad nods, then pulls out a stack of menus and starts walking toward Table 18.

That’s my table!

A little squeak escapes my lips and I spin for the counter, ducking behind the polished mahogany to catch my breath.

This is it. This is my chance to talk to him.

I peek over my shoulder, craning my neck to see him slide into the circular booth.

His friends haven’t arrived yet, so if I’m going to do this, it has to be now.

Oh, crap.

I press my hand into my stomach and swallow.

“Whoa, are you okay?” Amy touches my arm, jolting me out of my freak-out.

“Yeah.” I force a smile. “I’m good. I’m great. I’m just… My hands are shaking a little.” I hold them up and they quiver like dry leaves on a gusty fall day.

Amy clasps them and gives my fingers a firm squeeze. “Why are you freaking out?”

“Colt Burgess just turned up and I’m about to take his order. He’s at Table 18, because, you know, that’s the biggest table and the Raiders eat here a lot, so they always need the biggest table. Which makes sense because they’re big.”

“Okay.” Amy starts rubbing my arms—up and down, up and down. “You’re doing that babbling thing you do. Just take a breath.”

I breathe in, keeping my eyes on her face and mirroring her movements.

Her voice is soothing, like a mother calming her toddler. “It’s just an order. You can do it. Nothing will go wrong…unless you’re planning on falling all over him again.”

I tip my head with a droll glare. “That was an accident.”

“Oh, really? I thought you were going for a spontaneous
catch me when I’m falling
play.” She presses her hand against her forehead and pretends to swoon.

“No.” I draw out the word, putting on a funny voice.

She winces. “Yikes. That’s embarrassing.”

“Thank you.” I wriggle out of her grasp, flicking her hands off me. “I’m just feeling a little edgy because I’ve come up with a new plan, and I’m gonna give it a go.”

Amy winces again, this time adding a hiss.

I roll my eyes. “You know how every cloud has a silver lining?”

She shakes her head.

“Well, mine do.” I flick my hand in the air. “So, my colossal mishap in the cafeteria sparked a new idea, and I have come up with a whole new set of plays.”

“This is going to be bad, isn’t it?” Amy’s wince morphs into a cringe that wrinkles her forehead.

I ignore her skepticism and try to banish my nerves by standing as tall as I can and going over the sales pitch I rehearsed on the way over. “No, it’s brilliant. Rather than offering to tutor him, I’m going to ask
him
to tutor me.”

“What?” Amy tips her head, confusion marring her pretty features. “The guy doesn’t give a rat’s ass about school.”

“Not academic tutoring. I’m going to ask him to teach me how to be one of them. You know, like in
Can’t Buy Me Love
.”

Amy’s expression deadpans, making her look like her father. “This isn’t a romantic comedy from the eighties, Tori! This is real life, and it’s going to end in heartbreak.”

“No, it’s not.” I yank the pen from my messy bun and start tapping it against my notepad, glancing over my shoulder to admire the side of Colt’s face. “He’s going to think he’s helping me win over one of his friends, and while he’s doing that, he’s going to fall completely in love with me.”

“You are so deluded, it’s actually terrifying,” Amy whispers.

“Would you stop?” I spin to face her. “You’re my best friend. You’re supposed to support me.”

“Watching you do this is going to give me a heart attack.”

“Well, lucky for you I know CPR.” I follow up my pointed look with a cheesy smile that soon has her giggling.

“Girls, get to work,” Mr. Briggs barks softly, chasing it up with a glare that has us both jumping away from the counter.

I wink at Amy, then head for Table 18. Nerves are once again assaulting me, but I raise my chin and try my best to ignore them. I’m not going to let Amy’s skepticism get me down. My plan
will
work, and I’ll take great delight in proving her wrong.