Page 2 of Campus Heat

But I was an optimist, and I wasn’t going to let my bad vibes drag my team down. Who knew? Maybe the inexperience from our coach was exactly what we needed. It would make our plays unpredictable, and that could work in our favor.

“Are you guys ready to talk strategy?” Coach Harris asked, and the guys eagerly agreed.

We all gathered around the whiteboard and looked at the plan he’d come up with. But none of us understood what he had drawn out.

“I want us to apply pressure immediately. We need to control the tempo and force mistakes.” We shared confused glances but let him continue. “We’re going to run a full-court press. Swing the ball. Don’t stand still. Stretch the floor and then push through the lane.”

None of us said anything because we honestly didn’t know what to say. This was unlike any game plan we had ever seen before. For starters, there was no court.

“I want Ethan to bring up the ball, read the defense and then call for a screen. The wide receivers need to set the picks. And the offensive linemen need to box out. At the snap, you should all move in a circular pattern to confuse our opponents so they don’t know who has the ball. And if you see daylight, take the shot.”

“But coach,” Cameron said, looking completely confused. “Who’s going to block?”

Coach Harris frowned. “Block what?”

“Let’s just try it and see what happens,” I said, trying to save the coach from total embarrassment.

We headed out, and he clapped his hands like he was starting some kind of drill at the gym.

“Alright, bring it in. We’re running it live so remember spacing, tempo, movement,” he said as we fell into the lineup.

We all stood where we thought we were supposed to be. Our helmets were on and our cleats were set, but nobody looked confident. We were all trying to figure out how we were going to implement this strategy, but none of us actually had a clue.

“Ball at the point!” the coach called out. “Bring it up slowly and let the defense show their hand!”

I glanced at the sideline and took a snap. The receivers instantly started sliding sideways, cutting across the formation like they were trying to shake defenders who didn’t exist.

The tight end planted his feet and leaned into the defender with his arms tucked in like he was setting a pick. But the offensive line hesitated, unsure whether they were supposed to block or box out.

“Move! You’re blocking the lane!” Coach Harris shouted from the sideline.

I took a couple of steps back, unsure of what was going to happen next. My eyes darted from side to side as I waited for something to open, but it didn’t.

Instead, Malik shot through untouched. He hit me square in the chest and drove me into the turf so hard that the ball just popped loose.

I stayed down, unable to catch my breath. The screech of the whistle rang through the air, but it was followed by complete silence. And honestly, I didn’t know if it was just me or if there actually was no sound coming from my team.

Feeling a little better, I pushed myself up, and something quickly caught my attention. A cheerleader flew across my field of vision, back arched, arms locked, auburn hair catching the light. Every move was controlled and exact. Nothing like the mess we’d just made of that misplaced play.

When she landed, she didn’t clap or beam like the others. Intense green eyes scanned the field, and her gaze caught mine with mild curiosity.

My heart skipped a beat, but I reminded myself that I wasn’t here to make friends or get emotionally attached. I was here to play the game and hopefully earn myself a future in the sport.

Women were distractions, and friends often came with consequences. And I wasn’t up for either of those things. So I dragged my eyes away from the girl and pushed to my feet. We had a team to prepare, and I wasn’t going to let us fail.

“Okay, that didn’t go as planned,” Harris said as we gathered in front of the whiteboard. “You can’t let the defender walk straight into the line like that.”

“Coach, that was a blitz,” Malik said.

“Same difference,” Harris said, waving him off. “You didn’t seal the paint. You know what? Let’s just reset and try again. This one doesn’t count since it’s the first time.”

I flexed my fingers, not sure if I was ready for another round of whatever that was.

“That was too slow,” Harris continued. “We’re going to need to pick up the pace. Don’t huddle, let’s catch them before they set their defense.”

We exchanged concerned glances, but none of us said anything or tried to argue his logic.

“We’re going for the same look,” Harris added. “But this time we’re adding a double screen.”