Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
And fuck, I want another opportunity. In fact, I refuse to accept anything less this year.
Then get your head out of your ass and focus on the win.
I might have my future plans set on playing in the NFL, but right now, my sights are set on leading the Dickson Dragons to a championship.
My helmet sits on top of my head, and I shake the tension out of my arms and hands as we sit and wait to be announced to the field. It’s a decades-long university tradition that the first game of the season includes a ceremony of sorts where each football player walks out onto the field with one of the Dickson cheerleaders for good luck.
Personally, I think it’s a little fucking stupid, but I refuse to bring the vibes down. A good quarterback, a good leader, doesn’t bitch and moan about petty shit.
And trust me, I know, complaining about something like this is top-tier petty.
“You ready, Boden?” Drake asks. His helmet is already over his face, but I don’t miss the pirate’s smile on his lips.
Drake Martin has always been a crazy motherfucker, and anyone who’s seen his running game would know he’s reckless in a good way. The man takes tackles like he doesn’t feel pain and gets a thrill out of taking on a three-hundred-pound linebacker. He’s nuts and lives and eats football just like I always have.
“Of course I’m ready.” I reach out to slap the top of his helmet. “Let’s fucking go!”
“Hell yeah, BB!” he agrees and then raises his voice so every one of our teammates waiting in the tunnel can hear him. “Let’s fucking go!”
The response is several shouts and cheers that eventually turn into, “Dragons! Dragons! Dragons!” Followed by “Eat shit, Georgia!”
Seeing as that last part technically goes against the Dragons Football code of ethics, I know Coach Gordan has to be rolling his eyes over it, but he’s also not saying anything. The more amped up we are, the better.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please stand up from your seats!” the announcer exclaims. “And get ready to welcome this year’s Dickson Dragons to the field!”
The crowd bursts into excitement. And the student section doesn’t disappoint when they start shouting, “BBE! BBE!”
Yes, it’s a play on BDE—otherwise known as Big Dick Energy—and yes, they are utilizing my initials. It’s something that started halfway through my freshman season and caught on.
In front of me, each of my teammates starts to walk out of the tunnel, meeting up with their Dragons’ cheerleader match, and walking onto the field with her arm tucked within theirs.
It’s tradition that the quarterback is the last one to exit the tunnel, and it’s a first-game-of-the-season tradition that the quarterback walks onto the field with the captain of this year’s Dickson cheerleaders.
I can’t for the life of me remember which cheerleader was named captain this year, and there’s a small part of me that’s annoyed it’s not Scottie Bardeaux. But I swallow it down and force a smile to my lips when I reach the end of the tunnel.
Instantly, my eyes look out toward the packed stadium, taking in the gold-and-navy crowd of excited fans. Fuck, this is why I’m here. This is what I love. This is what I live for.
Once Drake Martin is announced and he makes it to the center of the field with Kayla—a cheerleader who is one of Scottie’s best friends—I look to my right and hold out my hand for the captain of the cheerleading squad.
But when I meet familiar blue eyes, I have to blink several times to try to make the fucking mirage disappear.
It doesn’t work, though.
Instead, Lexi is still there, dressed in a Dragons’ cheerleader uniform with a shy but adorable smile on her lips. Her mouth is painted red just like the rest of the squad normally sports on game days, and her blond hair is in this high ponytail with a big gold bow at the top.
What the fuck is happening right now?
“Hi, Blake,” she says, and I just stare at her, my voice mute and my eyes practically wider than my face. “Mind escorting me out onto the field?” she asks, tucking her arm into my still-outstretched one.
If it weren’t for a chick with a headset and wild eyes waving me toward the center of the field, I don’t know if I’d even move.
But somehow, I do. Though, my legs feel like they’re made of a terrible combination of lead and wood. Each step I take is stiff and heavy.
And by the time we make it to the center of the field, the entire stadium is on their feet, clapping their hands with excitement as the announcer encourages their applause. But my eyes are now fixated on Lexi’s face. At first, she’s looking out toward the crowd, but eventually, she locks her gaze with mine.