Wrong Quarterback | ✓

32 | trapezes and tightropes

          "Did you know only six percent of high school senior-players go on to play football in college? That's one in sixteen. And then only 1.7 percent of those are drafted to the NFL. So basically, only 8 in 10 000 of those who played in high school end up being NFL players."

Ethan lifts his gaze from his books, running a hand through his hair as he glances at Avery from the other end of their FaceTime call – her phone propped up against the stack of books on her kitchen table. 

"And that relates to your analysis on Candide how?"

"I'm taking a break," Avery shifts in her seat on the chair, pulling her knees to her chest and rests her chin upon them as she reads from the tab open on her laptop again. "No wait. These numbers are six years old, let me find–"

"Waters."

She shoots him a sideways glance, lips instantly mirroring the smile on his. "What?"

"Why the statistics?"

"I was curious," She shrugs as she takes her eyes off the laptop entirely. Leaning back on her chair, she drapes her arms over her knees. "You're like crazy good."

Even through the screen she notices the slight tint to his cheeks, only causing her lips to twitch up further. 

He shakes his head with a small smile. "That's only halfway through though. Got to make it to those 1.7 too."

"You will. I'm serious. I wish you could see yourself on the field because it's–"

"Waters."

Her smiles softens as he repeats her name, biting her teeth into her lip as she reaches for her phone. A stray curl has fallen out of the disheveled mess of his hair – a result of constantly having raked his fingers through it while they've been sat on this call. Her fingers itch to reach out and sprawl through it, to push it back. Itch to twirl that curl, letting her fingertips drop to gently sweep over his cheek.

Only she can't. Because he's not here, he's on the screen.

It's the fourth day in a row their contact has been reduced to that of a FaceTime call and she's getting tired of it. Tired of having to make due with a screen. Tired of not having him in front of her.

She misses him. A lot. Life – school, practice (him), a father's unexpected return (her) – has kept them busy these past days. These past weeks really, but the past four days definitely take the cake. At least they have this long weekend to look forward to. Both Ace East and Acebridge West are playing in the North Carolina Football State Championships on the Thursday. Different games, same bracket and most importantly; the same location.

The festiveness doesn't stop with the Championships though, considering the following Saturday is the night of the annual Ace East-Acebridge West winter formal. The joint dance is another contradictory tradition the town persists in upholding, yet again finding reason to put the Montagues and the Capulets in the same room – expecting them to get along.

After that his schedule will calm down, and as soon as they push through finals so will hers and then they'll be back to normal. She holds back a sigh at the thought of everything yet before them, smile reaching her eyes as she lets out a silent chortled breath at his interruption instead.

"Would you just let me gush over you for once?"

"I mean I would," He runs his fingers through his hair again. "But if you don't get going you'll be late to your dad's."

At his words she flickers a glance over her shoulder at the stove's digital clock, gaze turning out the window to realize the outside bathes in darkness. They've been on this call three hours already. And all she's gotten done in those three hours is highlighting one paragraph of the book she's supposed to analyze, other than stare at Ethan through the screen while he's been studying of course. Great. So much for staying on separate ends as not to distract one another.