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Grant puffs out his chest and flips to the page before reading his first line. “Don’t you see what you did, eh?! You made a fool outta me.”
I chuckle. “Maybe drop the De Niro accent and try again?”
“Too much?”
“Just a smidgen too much,” I say. “Good impression, though.”
* * *
“Move, move, move!”
I hear my father’s voice before I even step out onto the football field. He’s got the team running drills with a third of them running to catch a pass, another third throwing the ball, and the last third racing to tackle to thrower before he gets the chance to throw the ball. A few seconds of watching it and I start to feel dizzy. If I can say one thing about athletes, it’s that they’re coordinated as hell.
“Hey, Dad!”
“Come on, guys!”he spits at the field. “Pick up that speed!”
I linger next to his shoulder, my eyes flicking back and forth at the nameless faces behind helmets. They react to my dad’s voice as if their lives depended on it. I suppose they think it does. He’s Cary Pierce, after all. I wish I could admire him the way they do. To me, he’s just my father.
I clear my throat. “Hey, Dad.”
He looks over this time. “Eliza… what are you doing out here?”
I can’t tell whether he’s annoyed I’m here or if he’s happy to see me. Story of my life. “I just wanted to come say hi and see if you wanted to get some lunch later.”
“Not today,” he says, shifting his focus back to the field.
It’s the answer I expected. Bring an idea to my father within twenty-four hours of it needing to happen and he’ll reject it outright. “Okay,” I say. “How about tomorrow?” Once you set the time, you have to bring the incentive. What’s in it for him? “We can go to the student union during the lunch rush. Loads of people will see us hanging out and you’ll gain a rep for being the charming dad on campus…”
He pauses and looks down at me. “That’s not a bad idea, Eliza.”
“I’ll meet you at the athletic center and—”
The sound of colliding bodies brings my attention to the field. A player is on the ground, pinned down by another one nearly twice his size. He must not have gotten his toss off in time before getting tackled.
“Get up, Junior!”Dad shouts at him. “Walk it off.”
I stare at just Junior as he pulls himself off the grass. His shoulder padding is somewhat askew and there’s a brand new grass stain trailing down his tights but he doesn’t seem to care.
He’s looking at me instead.
“What were you saying, Eliza?”
“Um…” I pull my eyes away from the field. “I’ll meet you at the athletic center and we can walk to the student union together.”
“Sounds good.” He pats my shoulder. “Now get going, you’re distracting my boys.”
A quick glance at the field again tells me that he’s right — Junior Morgan is still staring at me but he’s doing a good job at making it look like he’s not. I add a little flair to my hips, giving my skirt a sway as I leave. Might as well make the view worth taking another tackle for.
“Come on, Junior! Get your head in the game!”
I chuckle and step off the field.
