Page 3 of Fighting Fate
The best decision maker on the team? Quarterback.
Second most important offensive position? Left Tackle.
Those blockers protecting the quarterback? Guards.
And the guy running the ball and catching passes from the quarterback? Well, that's your Tight End, of course, aka Luke's position.
See? I know my football. Just because this game is technically my punishment, and I don't necessarily enjoy attending these so-called "games" (from the stands at least), doesn't mean I can't grasp it. After all, it's hard not to understand football when your father was a football legend, and your only brother is following in his footsteps. Football runs deep in the family, hence why The Suttons are known as a "football family"—insert eye roll.
"Got it, Dad," I respond quickly.
As I look back to the field, Mom nudges me. "Milli, have you seen Miles play yet?" Here we go again. Mom's got this thing for Miles, like he's some golden boy. Sure, I get it; I feel the same—but she doesn't need to know that.
She fans herself, lost in thought. "Your dad says he was on fire in practice. Can't wait to see him today." She sighs, then hits me with, "I don't understand why you two don't just date. It's so obvious. You're perfect together. What's stopping you?"
Oh, if she only knew.
Mom's always been the kind to just say whatever pops into her head, no filter. Rolling my eyes, I mull over her latest remark.
Well, let's see, Mom, why don't Miles and I date? Maybe because we're best friends? Or because he's in college, and I'm still in high school? Oh, and let's not forget how he's Mr. Experienced with the ladies, and I'm...not. Yeah, I'm pretty sure I'm out of my league here. But of course, Mom's not ready to let that go.
I offer a casual shrug, keeping my tone nonchalant. "Mom, between studying, college applications, and dance practice, there's just no space for?—"
"And yet, you have all the time in the world for your precious books," she retorts with a tinge of annoyance.
Well, books are different. And besides, it's not like Miles is into me. Can't she drop it already?
I shrug again, brushing off her persistence. But she's not done. "At least your 'punishment' at the game lets you ogle some athletic eye candy. I told your dad this is hardly a punishment. Real punishment would be a week without your books."
She wouldn't dare. Would she?
And what's with her comment about athletic men? Is she trying to fit in with the cougar crowd, dreaming about guys half their age? I shake my head, eager to change the subject. "Maybe we should just focus on Luke?"
"Of course," she replies, slightly taken aback. "We did see him before the game. Looked ready, right, hon?" She turns to Dad.
Dad, ever the superstitious sports fan, claps his hands together, his gaze fixed on the field.
"Yep, he's going to show those recruiters what he's made of," he says with conviction.
Jeez Louise. One would think our futures are already scripted by them. It just makes me more determined to forge my own path. Luke, on the other hand, breathes football. The NFL would be his ultimate dream—and our parents' too, apparently.
The loudspeaker announces, "Touchdown, Miles Chasen!" just as my phone buzzes. Glancing up, I catch Miles' signature smirk and that playful point he shoots in my direction. My heart leaps against my will.
"Milli, did you catch that?" Mom's overflowing with enthusiasm. "That touchdown, his pointing—it's as if he's signaling it was all for you." It feels far-fetched, yet a piece of me hopes there's truth in it. I dismiss her speculation with a shake of my head and turn my attention back to my phone.
Payson
Club Zero tonight. You in?
My eyes return to the field briefly. I bite my inner cheek, considering whether this is something I want to do.
But, I'm grounded . . .
Milli . . . you don't go against the parents' wishes.
But, what if, just this once, I want to let loose a bit? I mean, I'm nearing the end of my senior year of high school, so maybe this is a good time to celebrate? Just a month early.
Yeah, I think I could use some celebration.