Read Online Catching Jordan by Miranda Kenneally - Free Book Online Page B

yel at us about what we’re doing wrong, so I drink some Gatorade and dry off. My hands are so soaked they look like raisins. Henry squeezes in on one side of me on the bench, and Ty squeezes in on the other. Because we’re slaughtering Lynchburg, I feel like I can relax a bit, so I leave the footbal zone and start thinking of Ty again. His elbow is touching mine. Breathe, Jordan, breathe. Don’t think about his bicep. Don’t think about that swatch of tan skin, peeking out from under his uniform, right above his hip. Wouldn’t it be great if we were the only two people in here right now? We could rip our uniforms off and— “Woods!” Coach says.
    “What’s up?”
    “I’m taking you out of the game for the second half.”
    JJ, Carter, and Henry jump up. They al start yel ing, “Are you serious, Coach?” and “She’s rocking this game!” and “An Alabama coach is out there!”
    Coach holds up a hand. “Woods has shown she’s perfectly capable of running a footbal field. But the weather is getting worse out there, and I don’t want her to get hurt.”
    “You sound like my dad.”
    Coach yanks off his hat and rubs his head, frowning at me. “I bet your dad would agree with me. I’m putting Ty in for the second half.”
    “Damn it!” I say, standing and marching out of the locker room. When I’m out in the hal way, I take a long, deep breath and run my hands through my wet hair.
    How could Coach do this to me? Alabama’s here to see me. Me. Jordan Woods.
    Not Ty.
    It’s like everyone on the freaking planet is out to stop me from playing bal and achieving my dreams. Everyone except the guys on my team.
    My team…
    No one respects a captain who acts like that, no matter if Coach is just plain idiotic tonight, so I go back into the locker room. “Sorry, Coach,” I say. “Won’t happen again.”
    Coach smiles, tossing a bal to me. “Great. Help Ty warm up.”

    •••

    Thank the Lord that Coach isn’t a meteorologist, ’cause his predictions suck.
    The weather’s getting worse, my ass. By the time Ty is warmed up, bright stars fil the clear sky.
    I’m yel ing instructions at the defensive players on the field when Mike comes and stands next to me. “You played a hel of a game, sis.”
    “Thanks,” I mutter. “Can’t believe Coach pul ed me out.”
    “Doesn’t matter. You showed everyone your stuff.”
    “Did you talk to the Alabama recruiter?”
    He grins. “Yup.”
    “What did he say?”
    “Now’s not a good time. Focus on the game. Talk to you at home.” Mike wanders back over to the fence where the Alabama and Ohio State guys are stil standing with Carter’s dad. I wish I had my bro’s schmoozing skil s.
    We don’t let Lynchburg get a first down, so it’s already our bal . Ty runs out onto the field, making even jogging look effortless.
    The Lynchburg defense seems to relax when they see I haven’t rejoined the game. Big mistake. Big. Even though Ty’s only had one practice with our team, a practice that lasted about twenty minutes, he wil destroy Lynchburg.
    JJ hikes the bal to Ty. He takes a five-step drop and scans the field. JJ lets a defenseman get past him. On purpose, obviously. JJ would never let a Lynchburg linebacker get anywhere near me. It doesn’t matter, though, because Ty sidesteps the linebacker and launches a deep pass to Henry, who’s vying with a cornerback in the end zone. The bal sails right into Henry’s open arms.
    Shit.
    Ty just threw a forty-yard pass! God, I don’t think I could’ve done that.
    I turn to find Mike and the col ege recruiters. The coaches are speaking quickly to a gaping Mike, who says something to them. The recruiters scribble something in their notebooks.
    Ty’s name.
    Wil the Alabama guy even remember me after seeing Ty’s pass?
    After yanking his helmet off, Ty comes jogging over. He drops a hand onto my shoulder and pul s me close. I quickly shake his hand off.
    “I’m sorry, Woods,” Ty says in his thick Texas