They both take a step back when they see me.

“Wow, Jordan,” Carrie says. “Your face looks real y pretty.”

“What are you wearing?” Marie asks, staring at my thighs.

I shrug, feeling my face burn. I close my eyes and somehow resist the urge to pul my hair back up into a ponytail and wipe al this crap off my face.

“You’re wearing that for your picture?” Marie exclaims.

I nod slowly.

“This is seriously messed up,” Marie says, shaking her head. “It doesn’t even look like you’re wearing pants.”

The Coffee Calendar people motion for me to fol ow them outside, and I dart after them, happy to get this over with. When I peer over my shoulder at Carrie and Marie, to make sure they aren’t teasing me, I find them looking concerned and sad.

We walk out onto the field, where a camera is set up next to a goal post.

I hear whistling, so I jerk around to find its source and see some of my teammates coming out of the guys’

locker room. I spot Ty looking at my legs.

“You look smoking hot, Woods!” a junior varsity guy shouts, and then another JV guy echoes that horrific sentiment before Carter and JJ step in front of them. Then the whistling stops.

My face must match our Red Raiders jerseys.

Henry jogs over to me and pul s me aside. “What the hel are you doing?” He stares down at my legs and back up at my face and hair.

“I have to do it, ’cause Alabama wants me to.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Henry replies.

“You’re a kil er player. You shouldn’t have to demean yourself for them.”

“I’m not! I’m happy to do this for my future team.”

Henry nods slowly and pats my shoulder. “Okay…”

He looks kinda down, so I say, “You look tal er without a Baby Björn strapped to your chest, you know.”

“I’m gonna miss that Jerry Rice. He made me into a chick magnet,” Henry says, grinning. “And Ms. Bonner told me that you and I made the highest grade in the whole class. We were excel ent parents.” He nods seriously, and I shove his chest, shaking my head and laughing.

“Picture time,” I say, nodding my head at the photographer.

He starts to walk back to the team, but then turns and says, “Your hair looks great.”

says, “Your hair looks great.”

I smile at him.

“Let’s get this over with,” I say to the photographer. I pick up a footbal and hurl it fifty yards downfield so he can get a great shot of my wind-up.

“No, no,” the photographer replies. “Put one hand on your waist, and hold a footbal with the other.”

I do what he says, and the catcal s start again.

“Sexy!”

“I want a piece of that!”

I clutch the bal as hard as I can and look down at my sneakers, trying to think of something happy to get my mind off the most mortifying experience ever. I’l do whatever I have to do to play bal for Alabama…but this feels so wrong.

I can’t believe the guys are stil whistling and disrespecting me like this.

But when I glance over at the team, I find JJ has taken his jersey off and is modeling for the guys. His extra weight flops around as he struts up and down the sideline with his jersey thrown over his shoulder. I breathe deeply, so incredibly relieved that my team wasn’t making fun of me after al .

I crack up when JJ cal s out, “I’m ready for my photo op, Jordan!”

game #2

Hundred Oaks High versus Stones River High, our main rival. Final Score?

24–21 Hundred Oaks.

I threw three great passes

and Henry scored three great touchdowns.

Ty didn’t get to play at all,

which made me feel horrible.

I seriously considered asking Coach to put him in for the second half

but my pride won the internal battle over my pity and guilt. Michigan was a no-show

Henry yanked his hair.

Ohio State was a no-show

Carter acted relieved…?

The great Donovan Woods was a no-show

I threw my helmet at my locker.

truth or dare?

the count? 10 days until alabama

“Who the hel invited the cheerleaders?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder into the family room. It’s the Saturday night after our game versus Stones River and my parents are out of town for my dad’s game in Jacksonvil e on Sunday, so I invited JJ, Carter, and Henry over to hang out, and they freaking showed up with Lacey, Kristen, Marie, Carrie…and Ty.

JJ and Carter stuff their hands in the pockets of their jeans and turn to stare at Henry.

“You guys are such great friends,” Henry says. “I can’t believe you threw me under the bus that is Jordan Woods.”

“Don’t cal me a bus! That makes me sound fat.”

“Since when do you care if you’re fat?” Henry asks. He smiles and glances from me to Ty and back to me again. “You know, Woods, I’l keep saying it until you believe it—you’d like Marie if you’d just give her a chance.”

A little embarrassed at being cal ed out by Henry, I shrug. “Yeah, she does seem pretty cool in music appreciation.”

Henry moves close to my ear and whispers, “Why does it matter if the cheerleaders are here?”

“The giggling gets on my nerves,” I reply, but the truth is, I don’t want Kristen around Ty.

“If I ask them not to giggle, can they stay?”

JJ gives me a pathetic puppy dog face that’s just screaming, “I need to get laid, please let them stay.”

Carter mimics JJ’s “I want to get laid” face even though he’s not dating any of these girls, has never gotten laid, and has never once actual y mentioned that he wants to get laid.

Ty looks at me and shrugs.

I don’t want the guys to leave, especial y Ty. “Fine. They can stay. But under no circumstances wil anyone make out on my bed or touch any of my personal possessions.”

“Shucks,” JJ says. “I only came ’cause I thought I’d get to fool around on your bed.”

“You’re such an ass,” I say, grabbing a soda from the fridge as Carrie comes into the kitchen.

“Jordan,” she says, “Do you have any Tylenol? I’ve got a headache.”

“Sure,” I reply, gesturing for her to fol ow me upstairs.

“You okay?” Carter asks as he cups her elbow with a hand. “Need a ride home or anything?”

“I’m cool, but thanks,” she says to Carter, grinning as she fol ows me. As soon as we’re in the bathroom and I’m rooting around in the medicine cabinet, Carrie shuts the door and whispers, “I don’t need any Tylenol.”

“Huh?”

“I just wanted to talk to you alone. What’s going on with Ty?” she squeals.

“Nothing.”

“Jordan, come on. You like him, right?”

I shrug and nod, averting my eyes.

She looks up at me and rubs my forearm. “So what’s wrong?”

Why is everyone so interested in what happens with me and Ty? I feel like I’m on one of those shitty reality shows like The Bachelorette or something. Unknotting my hair, I let it fal down my back. I grab a hairbrush, untangle my hair, and then pul it back up again as I decide what to tel Carrie.

“Uh, he tried to kiss me last week, and I didn’t let him. What if he never tries again?”

Carrie’s kind blue eyes shine as she smiles. “He wil .”

“And, um, if he does, what do I do?”

“What do you mean?” Carrie asks, raising an

“What do you mean?” Carrie asks, raising an eyebrow.

I purse my lips, incredibly embarrassed at having to ask. “How do I kiss him?”

“Oh.” She pauses. “Wel , sit here,” she says, pul ing the toilet seat down and patting it, tel ing me to sit. I take a seat and look up at Carrie. “Pretend I’m Ty…so when he leans in, just sort of wrap your fingers around his neck like this.” She takes my hand and puts it on the back of her neck. Jesus, this must be the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me.

She leans in as if she’s going to kiss me. “When his lips touch yours, just start touching him everywhere. His back, his jaw, his neck, his cheeks, his hips. Move your hands slowly, but keep him guessing.”

“Got it,” I say, taking my hand off her neck.

“And then use lots of lip, not so much tongue.” She kisses the back of her hand, demonstrating for me.

“Got it,” I say, but skip the part where I make out with my hand.

“That’s it.”

“That’s it?” I exclaim. It seems so much more complicated on TV.

“Yup, now go get ’em,” she says, sounding just like Coach when he gives us pep talks before games. I’m surprised she doesn’t slap my ass too.

Carrie and I walk back into the family room, where I sit down in my dad’s favorite armchair and pop open my Diet Coke.

“I love your house, Jordan,” Marie says, looking around. “Thanks so much for inviting us.”

“You’re welcome,” I reply.

“I can’t believe I’m getting to see your dad’s Heismans,” she says, gawking at the trophies on the shelf. She walks over and peers up at them. “My dad and brother wil be so jealous.”

I raise my eyebrows at Henry, who shrugs and smiles. Al right, Marie does seem nice and sweet. Henry sits down on the floor and pul s her onto his lap. He whispers in her ear and kisses her cheek, and she giggles. He seems happy tonight, so that makes me happy. Carrie smiles at them, but I can tel she’s stil hurt. I’m dying to know why they broke up.

JJ sits with Lacey, and Carter sits with Carrie, probably because she’s the only option left besides Kristen, who’s stil eyeing Ty with a shitload of interest. When Ty picks a seat, I notice he sits as far away from Kristen as possible, but she crawls over next to him anyway.

With everyone else paired off into couples, I feel like a ninth wheel.

“Who wants a drink?” Lacey asks, pul ing these lame piña colada wine coolers out of her bag and passing them out to the other girls.

JJ moves to grab one, but I shake my head at him. I don’t care if my team drinks, but they’re not drinking on my watch.

“Couldn’t you have brought something good?” Carter asks Lacey. “Like a nice Pinot Grigio or a Chianti?”

“I love Pinot Grigio,” Carrie replies.

“What the hel are you talking about?” I ask Carter.

“Chianti? How could that possibly compare with a Slurpee?”

“Hear, hear,” Marie says, and we grin at each other before she takes a sip of her wine cooler. I laugh when she grimaces.

Ty’s leaning up against a leather sofa with Kristen nestled up next to him. She’s beaming, but he’s staring at his fingernails. Then he peers over at me and I turn away as fast as I can and focus on the clown fish in our tank.

JJ and Henry are looking at me with eyes wide open, shaking their heads. Carrie whispers something in Carter’s ear, and he starts nodding and laughing.