Cora Carmack - All Lined Up

“That was you?”

She shrugs. “I was merely a facilitator.”

Carson is dressed in jeans and his familiar scuffed boots. He’s wearing his team sweatshirt, and he gives me this sleepy, sweet smile that makes my heart throb. I can see people watching him. By now everyone knows who he is, and they’re wondering why the starting quarterback is standing all alone on the sidewalk. I don’t spare a single care for any of the people watching when I walk up to him and throw my arms around his neck.

He pulls me close, his hands slipping beneath my jacket to press into the small of my back.

“Good morning,” he murmurs into my ear, his stubble tickling my cheek.

Then, because I am done caring about gossip, and I actually want everyone to know he’s mine, I kiss him right there on the sidewalk with at least twenty people watching.

The kiss lasts for several long seconds, neither of us willing to be the one who steps back. But when I hear a few whistles and Stella pretending to gag behind my back, I pull back smiling.

“Good morning,” I say.

“Yes, it is.”

“Seriously,” Stella says. “I’m going to need Benadryl to hold off the hives if you guys keep doing that.”

Carson gives me another short kiss, and Stella throws up her hands. “I think I liked it better when you two were incognito. There was much less nausea.”

With one arm wrapped around my shoulder, he smiles at her. “Thanks for the help last night, Stella.”

She waves him off and starts walking away. I think she’s actually bolting until she uses the nearby stairs up to the quad to help her climb up on top of the brick wall. She walks back toward us, and then plops down on the brick that’s just below my shoulders.

Carson helps me jump up beside her, and then he settles in between my knees, leaving me just a couple inches above him. He leans against the brick and wraps his arms around my waist.

Stella says, “This whole third-wheel thing is going to be happening a lot, isn’t it?”

“We could always get you a fourth wheel,” I say.

“It’s like you’re actually trying to make me gag.”

We talk for a while longer, and when we hear the first strains of music from the band around the corner signaling the start of the parade, Carson turns around to face the street. He leans back against me, propping his elbows up on my thighs, and I wrap my arms around him.

The band comes by first, hundreds of them dressed in full uniform and filling the early morning air with the fight song, and “Smoke on the Water,” and all the other songs I’ll forever associate with football.

Then come the floats. The fraternities and sororities work for months and put ridiculous amounts of money into them, and they’re crazy good because of it. Not all of them make sense with football—there’s a Wizard of Oz one with a yellow brick road, and a house on a witch, and even a tornado. They’ve got students dressed up as characters waving and throwing out candy to the families and students that have filled the sidewalk in front of us. There’s a pirate one too, and one with Thor crushing what appears to be a hawk (the opposing team’s mascot) with his massive hammer.

There’s a giant floating wildcat, maneuvered by students with strings. The homecoming-queen nominees come by in a fancy car, claws up in lieu of the pageant-style waves.

A student organization walks by with individual signs made for each player, and at the very front is a sign for Carson with his number and a painted football that says, “McClain’s domain.”

Stella and I cheer loudly, and Carson just shakes his head, laughing.

Pointing at me, Stella yells, “Here’s some more of McClain’s domain, right here!”

I roll my eyes and shove her, and she pretends like she’s going to topple back off the wall. I let her have her fun, and then I lean down close to Carson’s ear.

“You’re looking awfully smug.”

He leans to the side, looking up at me over his shoulder.

“What? I’m not allowed to enjoy the idea of you being mine?”

I smile, enjoying the thought myself.

“Fine. Enjoy away.”

“Oh, I plan to.”

Stella cuts in. “Can you please do that enjoying at his place?”

We promise to do just that, and when the parade is over, we walk Stella back to the dorm, and then head to his apartment.

Despite Stella’s teasing, we’re both yawning by the time we make it up the stairs and through his door. We kick off our shoes and shed our winter layers. Carson lies down on the couch, and I grab his blanket and settle down beside him. With my head on his chest and his arms around me, I feel certain that I’ve never been more comfortable.

“Carson?”

Sleepily, he kisses my forehead and replies, “Hmm?”

“I kinda love you, too.”

He takes a deep breath, his chest rising steeply below my cheek.

“Kinda?”

“Still so needy,” I tease. “Fine. I love you.”

He tips my head up, and looks down at me. His eyes are clear and vivid blue, and his smile would take me to my knees if I weren’t already laying down.

“I’ll always need you, Daredevil.”

Coach Cole has to shout in the locker room to be heard over the roar from the stadium above us before the game. The bands are already playing, and the people are screaming, and their energy bleeds through the walls until we’re all buzzing with it.

I bounce my knees, trying to stay warm. Silas is doing the same, and we nod at each other. The tension is high tonight. We’ve got our biggest crowd of the season so far, and there are a lot of eyes out there expecting a show.

The coaches are lined up around the room, almost as on edge as the players. Ryan is there with them, and he too gives me a nod.

It’s the only thing to do, really, when you meet someone else’s eyes. We’re all trying to stay quiet and focused.

Coach finishes with all his little reminders about the other team’s weaknesses that we’ve discussed throughout the week, along with our own that we need to be aware of. He steps away from the whiteboard that’s covered in plays and notes and takes his time looking around the room, meeting each of our eyes.

“Tonight is our night, gentlemen. They may call it homecoming for the alumni and the tradition and the festivities, but for us today that grass is your home. It’s yours to protect, yours to control. Today is the day where we put that number three behind us, and bring home win number four. Today we let go of the past, and move on to our future. Today, I expect you to leave absolutely everything you have on that field. If we have to drag each other back into this locker room, bloody and exhausted and in pain, that’s okay. Because we’ll be dragging that win in with us.”

He steps over toward the exit, and I notice a tarp hanging over the door that wasn’t there before. We all remain where we are while Coach reaches up and tugs the thing down.

In clean black letters just above the door, it reads:

“No Easy Days.”

“Today, we start a new tradition, gentlemen. It’s time we let go of the old Rusk. We’re no longer one of the weakest teams in the conference. We’ve been put through the fire, and we’ve come out stronger for it. Now who’s ready to prove it?”

We surge to our feet with a roar, and I let myself be carried away by the energy of the group. Our bodies crash into one another as we raise our hands up and scream.

As we line up and file out the door, each player reaches up and slaps a hand on the phrase above the door.

And I know as I stare at those words that it’s the hard days that end up being the most important in the end.