Once Upon A Half-Time 1(12)

Fortunately, the scariest men on the team were some of the biggest teddy-bears. I ducked into the defensive practice and joined a circle of linebackers, huddling before they drilled.

It was weird to drop to my knees in a group of six men, but ordering around Cole The Beast Hawthorne was probably a worse idea.

Still, this was an awesome shot.

“Let your hair down, Cole.” I aimed the camera. He scowled. That was fine—it added that menacing, defensive atmosphere I hoped to capture. “Pretend this is a game.”

Cole’s shoulder-length blonde hair remained firmly secured in the pony tail.

“Come on. This.” I gestured around the huddle. “Looks great. The linebacker core—all prepared for battle. Can’t ask for a better image.”

Paxton, our most senior veteran, grinned his toothy, handsome smile—always good for a photo, though his two gold front teeth usually reflected my flash. “Elle, baby, you just say the word, and I’ll give you all the modeling you could want.”

“I can’t afford your rates, Pax.”

“For you?” He flexed his biceps. “I’ll do it for free.”

“A session like that would melt the camera.”

“A wet dream come true, Elle.”

“And yet you’ll wake up the same way you always do—alone and…” I snapped a picture. “Sticky.”

“Jesus, have mercy.”

We were still missing one camera-shy, irritated linebacker. I curled my finger for Cole to approach.

“It’s not the same with you brooding,” I said.

“Yeah, Cole.” Sean, our third-year outside linebacker, took the opportunity to rest. He puffed hard, resting on his knees. “Take the pic. I need a breather.”

“Piper says you’re not really that beastly, Cole,” I said. The dozen pictures I had of him hugging his step-daughter on the sidelines proved it. “One picture. Sean, move in a bit.”

“Don’t think I should.”

“But there’s a gap—”

Sean wavered. “Breakfast isn’t sitting good.”

Paxton snickered. “You ate eight hard-boiled eggs. Can’t imagine why you’re sick.”

“That was cause…” He swallowed. “I already ate leftover…left…over…”

“What?”

“Corn…chowder.”

Oh, God.

Mistake. Huge mistake.

The sun beat down on the field, and even in my white shirt and shorts, I roasted in the huddle. The guys sweated, exhausted, working on their drills and routes all morning in the heat.

One wavering step, and Sean nearly crashed into me. His muscles weren’t the only things bulging. Nothing cute was coming out of those chipmunk cheeks.

Paxton shouted. “Oh shitttt….”

I tried to bolt, tripped over my feet, and tumbled into the grass. Cole reached for me.

Too late.

My life might have flashed before my eyes, but I couldn’t see it, not while staring directly into the remains of Sean’s egg and chowder disaster.

The hot day was made hotter by the splash of liquid hell on earth. But, somehow, I froze.

I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t try to brush away an unfortunate chunk of egg that had rolled onto my shoulder.

The field silenced.

Well, except for Sean. He had the decency to heave away from me this time. Nothing came up. The big guy got most of it out on the first go-around.

On me.

All over me.

Hair. Clothes. Skin. I panicked and pushed the camera away before it landed in the pile of misfortune that was my life.

And then…the chorus began.

Paxton had the first solo, diving beyond the fifty to gargle his breakfast with the team. A harmony of retching coughs cascaded down the field, like a single domino toppling the entirety of the Rivets in a wave of ninja-quick sickness. Blitzed from the shadows…and the stomach.

The only thing worse than throwing up? Watching someone else do it.

Or, in this case, the entire organization.

First the linebackers. Then the corners. The safety.

It crossed into the special teams when our punter tried to do the right thing. Unfortunately, he projectiled his politeness beyond the garbage can on the sidelines.

From there the bile bomb spread, barraging unsuspecting players in the early-afternoon heat until the only sound echoing over the field was Jack Carson’s bewildered bellow.

“What the fuck just happened?”

“Elle, I’m so sorry…” Sean collapsed into the grass.

It was Cole who helped me up, surprisingly resilient. I held my arms out and pretended I wasn’t…dripping.

Instead, I silently screamed in abject horror while I faced the team with a smile.

This day could not possibly get any worse.