Page 10

I nodded, still unable to comprehend what had just happened, and jogged back onto the field. The problem was that my rhythm didn’t settle the way it usually did. Delaney’s words stuck with me because somewhere deep down I wanted what he had to offer. Helping my family, relieving the pressure, and gaining a position. They were circling my mind, constantly making it harder to focus.

The whistle blew, and the first rep started. I took the handoff, cut through the line, and dove forward. It was solid and controlled, exactly how it should’ve been.

“Again,” Malik shouted.

I reset and forced my attention back to where it belonged. The next play had just started and then—

“Trace!”

The voice that cut across the field was sharp and completely out of place. I deliberately ignored it. The play carried through, ending in a short gain before the whistle reset everything again.

“Trace!”

This time I turned because my irritation had already started building. Dakota stood just off the center line with her long blonde hair slapping against her face and her round horn-rimmed glasses framing her green eyes. Like before, she had her notebook tucked under her arm, and she was completely unmoved by the fact that she was interrupting practice. Typical.

I jogged over and stopped just short of the boundary. “What do you want?”

“I need to ask you a few questions.”

“I know this isn’t a common concept for you, but I’m busy with practice, so I don’t have time for you.”

“It won’t take long.”

I stared at her, trying to figure out if she was really that unbothered by reality or if she was just incredibly stupid.

“Of course it will take long, and as I said—” I motioned to the guys who had already reset.

She tilted her head slightly. “Then stop messing around and keep it short.”

“Prescott!” Lucas called. “Are you coming or not?”

I didn’t look back. “Make it quick.”

Dakota gave me this dazzling smile before pulling her notebook out and flipping to a clean page.

“Why didn’t you join the team during your first year?” she asked, catching me completely off guard.

“Is that your opener?”

“Yes,” she replied simply.

I shrugged. “Because I didn’t feel like it.”

I was expecting questions about the game because that was what I had gotten from everyone else, but Dakota seemed to want personal information, which was something I wasn’t all too happy with sharing.

“That doesn’t track,” she said. “You don’t move like someone who picked this up last week.”

I exhaled sharply. “Maybe I really am just that good.”

“Right,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Because spontaneous athletic excellence is a thing.”

I ignored that completely. “What’s your next question?”

Dakota tapped her pen against her milky white chin a few times before her eyes lit up.

“Why now?” she eventually asked. “And don’t say ‘because I felt like it’ again.”

I glanced back at the guys on the field, hoping to find the right words, but saw that Coach was watching us.