Despite growing up together, Catherine Simmons and Mattis Reed were never close.
Cat was inseparable from Mattis' younger sister, Chloé, while he was busy running around on the football field.
But when Cat's new dream drags her across the country du...
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"Look out!"
Some people would probably give the last decade of football practices the credit for my swift turn on the spot in the direction of that voice.
But in reality, I have one season playing with Cadin García to thank for catching the football he just hurled at my head before it could hit target.
You need quick reflexes around these idiots.
I lower the ball, clasped tightly in my left hand, and glower at my younger teammate.
"Dude."
The fucker grins, running a hand through his brown hair. "Nice catch, Reed."
His brother, Ethan, snickers beside him, and they fist bump without looking at each other.
The García twins are the bane of my existence. Either they weren't disciplined enough as kids, or their parents secretly didn't mind raising little terrorists.
I throw the ball back to Cadin, who catches it without issue, the easy grin on his face not wavering in the slightest. He turns and jogs down the field when our coach calls him over.
I turn my eyes to Ethan. He shrugs, unaffected. "What did you expect?"
Sighing, I follow the two tight ends toward the locker room. We've just wrapped up afternoon practice, and the sweat has dried, leaving me cold and itchy. I just want to jump in a hot shower and get some damn coffee.
Before I can escape inside, Coach Nikki gestures me over. As starting quarterback, I've got a lot on my shoulders, and he likes to do regular check-ins, making sure I'm up for the task.
Since we're gearing up for the regular season, I've got to show off a little to ensure I'll keep my spot. But I'm not too worried. I had a great season last year, and since red-shirting my freshman year, I've been starting consistently.
"What's up, Coach?" I ask, folding my features into polite lines. Coach Nikki is tough and demands a certain level of respect. By now, I know how to play to his tune.
"Good job today, Reed," the older man says. He's in his late fifties and has coached at Columbia for several decades.
"Thank you, sir."
He launches into a feedback session, picking apart each of my plays until it doesn't feel like a 'good' job anymore. Though, I have learned that while compliments are hard to come by, I shouldn't be too discouraged by the criticism. He just takes his job seriously.
"Oh, and Reed," he says when I try to make my escape again. Pressing my lips together to contain a groan, I turn around, waiting. "This is your first year playing as an all-ivy. The title isn't just for show, you know? It comes with obligations. You have to be a good role model to your teammates."
After the regular season last year, I was named to the all-ivy first-team offense. It's a great honor, especially since Columbia has only ever won the ivy league football conference once, and that was more than half a century ago.
