The utility bin beside the team bench at the edge of the sidelines catches my attention.

Oh, screw it. It’s worth a shot.

I push off the grass to stand.

That has Nico’s eyes snapping to mine, but I hardly spare him a glance, walking over to snag a football from the container.

I’m tired of this avoidance crap, so... I’m getting on his level.

It just so happens I’m wearing my Nike’s with a pair of shorts today, so I throw the ball up and try to kick it but of course it bounces off the side of my shoe, landing a sad foot away.

I pick it up, noticing a few of the other groups cutting glances at me, but I ignore them and try again. This time it goes a solid five feet, sideways and wobbly, but still.

I look to Nico.

While his focus is lasered in on me, his expression remains bare.

I pick it up again, tossing it in the air a few times only to throw it a little out, running to try and catch it, but it falls to the grass.

Before I can make another grab for it, Nico’s swift hand flies in to snatch it first, and our eyes meet, both of us still bent over.

I straighten first, and he slowly follows, twisting the ball in his hands.

He eyes me a second, but then tips his chin as he positions his fingers against the laces, elbow raised and prepared to launch.

I follow his lead, jogging out a few yards, and he throws a short pass I’m able to catch with ease.

He licks his lips and claps his hands in front of him, his way of telling me to throw it back.

I try kicking it again instead, and he frowns, but the corner of his lips tip up the slightest bit.

“Ah.” I point to him teasingly before my hands find my hips. “I knew it.”

“Knew what? You can’t kick for shit?” He points the ball to the left, so I start jogging that way, and the ball falls right into my hands.

“No.” I take several steps back and his forehead creases slightly. “I knew that you couldn’t stay padlocked so tight when in your element.”

I tip back slightly and throw the ball, it’s a horrible throw and spins the wrong way but it makes it close enough to where he can jog up and make the catch.

“What do you know about my element, Pixie?”

“Pixie?” I tilt my head slightly. “I’m less than a head shy of you. Not a pixie.”

“Maybe I’m not talkin’ about your looks.”

I swipe a hand out in a do tell type of way, but when he doesn’t acknowledge me, I answer his question. “Not much, to be honest, but I know it’s where you spend every afternoon pretty much all year long, pre-season, regular season, post-season.”

We walk toward each other, but Nico quickly spins like he would in a game, a similar move I saw him do earlier, and I laugh, turning with him.

He bobs, slowly swaying back and forth, so I move with him, and when he darts around me, rushing for the end zone, I trail behind.

I’m only two feet from him, so when he stops abruptly, whipping around to face me, my body slams into his.

I yelp slightly on impact and he catches me around the waist so we don’t fall, both of us laughing. I look up to catch him in the act, but slowly his amusement dies, causing mine to follow.

I clear my throat and step back the second he removes his hand.

I glance to the side where Mr. Brando stands at the edge of the bleachers, binder in hand.

He tips his chin, a small smile in place, and then he switches his attention to a few of the other students around, so I turn back to Nico.

Nico who has an icy stare locked in the direction mine just came from.

When he finally brings his eyes back, he does so taking several steps away, and Alex is suddenly standing beside me.

He hands over my notebook. “Thanks again for the help studying,” he says.

I laugh, scrunching my nose. “They’re only copies, you’ll have to put the time in.”

A tight laugh leaves him. “Right, yeah.”

I offer a small smile and move back to my spot on the turf, Nico sitting once again as well.

“Should we go over some questions, maybe?” I ask Nico, setting my notebook in my lap.

His eyes pointedly fall to the matte black cover only to snap right back to mine.

He goes straight back to silent mode.

And just like that, Nico’s done being semi-friendly for the day.

Awesome.

The class ends not too long later, and lunch follows, the pep rally in the gym right after, so I meet Carley at the door and we file in together.

We’re playing a rare Thursday game tonight, but it’s still game night, and with our team having had a bye last week, we’re all jonesing for some football.

I’m in need of some fun after the taxing week I’ve had.

Of course, as soon as I think it, the cause of my headache struts in, a large number 24 etched across his chest in big, bold, blue letters.

He’s not even the captain, Trent is as quarterback, yet, there Nico is, leading the team down the bench line, and dropping his ass in the space directly in front of me.

Yay freaking me.

She couldn’t hold in her eye roll if she tried – she’d never try, it’s always been her go-to form of sass.

Not my fault she chooses the second row knowing the team sits in the first. It’s the same shit every week, been this way all four years.

The difference though, she’d let me ignore her before, never sought out eye contact.

Now? I swear to god the girl takes pleasure in fucking with my head, demanding my attention without a word, causing me to be more measured and sharper with her.

She’s testing my patience, and the funniest shit... I’m not sure she has a clue.

Like right now, she’s pulled her phone out to record her friends who just took the floor to do their little cheer thing, and she’s leaning forward slightly to do it, making her naked knees push into my back.

I’m tempted to catch her off guard, mess with her by leaning against them. It’s what she gets for not paying attention, but as soon as I think it, she shifts away, knocking Trent in the arm with them instead.

“She’s killin’ it!” Demi whispers in a laugh.

He chuckles but keeps his focus on his girl.

A scoff leaves me, and he cuts a glance my way, his smirk deepening.

Dick.

Josie tries to get my attention during the routine, but I purposely avoid her side of the room, and just like that, they’re done and running off the floor.

Demi’s legs find their way forward again, so fuck it, I push against them, and she tenses.

I drop my head back, so it’s damn near planted in her lap and those green eyes widen, her hands lifted and frozen a few inches out.

Her long hair brushes across my cheek so I reach up and move it, and her lips clamp tight.

“You keep kneeing me and I’m gonna do one of two things. One being lifting you up and putting you beside me so you can’t anymore, or two, plant your ass in my lap, which will either embarrass or entice you. Your call, Davenport.” My eyes move between hers a moment, but the girl is slow to catch on.

Finally, she jumps, swiftly swinging her body away to the point I almost fall over and have to catch myself.

Both Trent and Carley laugh, while Demi simply stares.

“Sorry,” she whispers after a second, and then pretends to be focused on Coach, who gives his speech into the microphone.