Love, Ally by Hannah Gray
nine
Cole
“Storm,” Coach calls to me, waving for me to come over to him. “Get your ass over here.”
Jogging over, I nod to him. “Yeah, Coach?”
He furiously chews on the gum in his mouth. “We both know Ricky took it hard when he learned the news that he’d been replaced.” Messing with the bill on his hat, he frowns. “I hope you can get the boys to fall in line behind you. They need leadership. They need someone they can depend on.”
Putting my hands on my sides, I nod. “Yes, sir. I just hope they’ll accept me. If not, we’ve got no shot at the championship.”
He leans in closer to my ear and pats me on the shoulder. “Then, make them fall in line. Earn their respect, son. You get one, and you’ll get them all.”
With that tidbit of advice, he turns and walks to the sidelines. Leaving me hoping and praying I will earn these guys’ respect as their new captain.
This is far from my first rodeo in the game of football. They aren’t going to just welcome me with open arms after I replaced their main man. I might be seen as the big man on campus these days to the students, but to this team, I’m just the new kid who came in hot and was instantly handed the keys to the kingdom. All I can hope is that they understand that if they work with me, I’ll lead them right to a championship.
Coach calls us in, and we form into a huddle. I don’t miss the douchey looks coming my way.
“Look here, boys,” he says, looking around at all of us. “This season is ours for the taking. We have the team, we have the talent, we have the ability. So, what do you say? Let’s start this game off right.”
No one says anything besides Knox and Weston, who yell, “Let’s go!”
I glance around at the snarls coming my way. I can’t help but feel awkward as fuck. Suddenly, I’m transported back to a time when I was a kid, living with my dad. Dirty clothes and hair that was too fucking long for a boy. I was labeled the weird kid in class. Thank fuck when I got to Charlotte’s Falls, the guys cared more about my football skills, and the girls cared more about the way I looked. Finally, I was respected.
Coach’s lips form into a line, and he shakes his head. “Well, if that’s how it’s going to be, you can all warm my damn bench. How’s that sound, whiny asses?”
They all glance around at each other before finally realizing that this isCoach Beal. And Coach don’t play.
Collectively, they eventually nod. Other than Ricky, who just stands there, scowling. Likely planning my death.
Coach gives us a pep talk. Runs through what plays we’ll start with and what to look out for with this team. The offensive coach then steps in, talking to me and Knox mainly. And then, just like that, it’s fucking game time.
Before heading out onto the field, I jog over to Ricky. “I’m sorry, man, for how it all played out. I hope you know that.”
He looks away from me, his jaw noticeably tensing. “They’ll never listen to you, Storm. Most of those guys have been with me since freshman year,” he answers bitterly before looking me up and down. “They aren’t going to play with a stranger who showed up here, acting like some big shit. You’re still a kid. You’ve got a lot to learn to catch up to me.”
Pulling my helmet on, I shrug. “Like I said, I’m sorry. But they’ll either learn to work with me or they can lose this season for me, themselves, you, and Coach. That’s on them,” I answer sharply before making my way to the center of the field.
Normally, I don’t get nervous before a game. Actually, I never do. But that’s because I’ve always had teammates who were like brothers. Now, I only have Knox and Weston. The others see me more like an enemy. Yeah, we’re all really good. But a team is just that—a team. It isn’t a single person or a pair or even three. It’s a group coming together to execute a win. Or to try their damnedest and lose with grace. Either way, it’s done together.
I pray to fucking God they can set aside personal shit and just show up and play. But something tells me it won’t be that easy.
We’re only a few seconds from halftime, and as I predicted, they are choosing to work against me and not with me. I don’t get it either. Issue with me or not, they should have enough respect for this game to fucking play. To just show up. It’s a damn disgrace and an embarrassment to football.
The defense is letting me get sacked. Over and over. The only one on the field who has blocked me from getting hit is Weston. He hasn’t even been able to try to run one into the end zone because besides him, I have no protection. And I’ve had to depend solely on Knox to throw the ball to because everyone else is purposely making me look bad by missing the pass.
By the time we file into the locker room, my body is in immense pain, and my heart is racing because I’m so fucking pissed off that I can hardly see straight. I cannot for the life of me understand a universe where you don’t at least try your best in a game.
I should be focused on giving a speech, amping them up. But I can’t. I can hardly look at their pathetic faces.
If they can’t show up for me, why should I come in here and waste my breath on a speech?
Back in Charlotte’s Falls, if someone pissed me off, I’d straighten them out without thinking twice. But I’m in college now, and everything is scrutinized under a microscope. I can’t afford to fuck up and ruin my chances at being drafted. Even if that means keeping this anger inside until I explode. I might not be able to beat the piss out of these fuckers, but I can at least let them know what’s up.
I see a few of them snickering among each other, looking in my direction.
“Laugh it up, fucksticks. Hopefully, you have no dreams to play at a higher level.” Taking a drink of my Gatorade, I shake my head at them. “Because after tonight, nobody will want you. I promise you that much.”
“What the fuck did you say to me?” Dex, a defenseman, growls as he comes charging toward me.
I can’t get in trouble if it’s self-defense. Right?
My fist curls, and that feeling of adrenaline rushes through my body. My sore-as-fuck body, thanks to these assholes.
“You heard me.” I smile arrogantly. “I thought, No way would these pussies throw away a fucking game tonight over a position.” Shaking my head, I laugh bitterly. “Turns out, I was wrong. You all should take those jerseys off; you’re a fucking disgrace to this team.”
Reaching back, he curls his fist before starting to come toward me.
Before he does it though, Knox pushes him backward. “Cut the fucking shit, Dex.”
“What do we have here?” Now, Ricky steps up to Knox. “You riding Storm’s dick like the Coach is?”
“What the fuck did you just say, son?” Coach Beal’s voice booms.
Turning toward him, Knox grins. “Coach? Allow me?”
He rolls his eyes but doesn’t stop him.
Knox turns his attention back to Dex before he laughs once and shakes his head. “Well, you see, Dex, I like to do this thing called winning.” Looking back at me, he pretends to act confused. “How many games did they win last year, Storm?”
I didn’t want to do this shit to Ricky, but he’s left me no choice. He’s not fucking up my future just because he has a vagina. Fuck no.
“Six,” I answer smugly. “Lost six.”
Looking around the room, Knox shakes his head. “Six out of twelve fucking games. I mean, I’m not good at math or anything, but that means you lost half of your games.” He claps his hands. “What a bunch of go-getters you all are.” Moving his eyes to Ricky, he jerks his thumb toward Weston. “Weston here, his team won state. My team, we lost state, but at least we’d made it there. And, obviously, Cole fucking Storms led his team to a state championship and won it.” He pauses. “How many of you fuckers made it to state in high school?”
A few mumble, and a few raise their hands though not many.
“That’s about what I—”
“Get to the point, Carter,” Coach grunts.
Knox nods. “The three of us are out there, busting our asses. And for what? For the rest of you to sabotage this game.” He stops and looks over at me. “With this guy right here, we will win games. But Jesus fucking Christ, you have to do your jobs. We all get it—you have loyalty to Ricky. That’s sweet and shit. You can suck his dick once this game is over. But goddamn, I want to win games. I don’t give a fuck about your hair-braiding, nail-painting relationships. Tuck your pussies in and play ball. I’m good. I’m real fucking good. So is our new quarterback and tight end.” He waves his hand around at us. “We can either be a three-man team. Or we can all work together. It’s your call, boys.”
It’s a good speech. A speech I should be giving. But my anger over how this team is playing makes me unable to do that. Unable to act like a true captain in this moment. And that’s a damn shame.
If I’m being honest, I don’t have a helluva lot of faith that Knox’s words will work. But I’m hoping to fuck it does. I’m not sure how many more hits I can take tonight. And more than that, I really, really hate losing. Especially when I know Ally is watching. I can feel her eyes on me the whole time. I just wish I could hear her sweet voice cheering me on.