The Captain's Dirty Little Secret

Chapter 165: Chapter 165 - The Record

The state championship stadium was bigger than every field Zac had played on that season.

He hated noticing that first.

He wanted to notice the grass. The wind. The way the Woodstock Titans lined up during warmups. The angle of their safeties when their quarterback practiced deep throws. The things that mattered.

Instead, his eyes caught on the cameras near the track, the press box above the stands, and the rows of people already filling the seats in black, red, gray, and blue. Banners hung along the fence. School media kids stood beside local reporters with phones ready in their hands.

Everything looked too bright.

Everything sounded too close.

Zac rolled his shoulders once and tightened his grip around his helmet.

His right side still remembered the State Semi-Final.

His ribs had healed enough for him to play. They had healed enough for trainers to clear him. They had healed enough for every adult to say he was fine.

His body had a different opinion.

Every deep breath pressed against the sore place. Every hard twist reminded him exactly where the Northview linebacker had buried a hit into him.

Zac ignored it.

”Prescott.”

Coach Hayes stood near the sideline with his headset around his neck and his play sheet folded in one hand.

Zac walked over.

Hayes looked him up and down. ”You good?”

”Yes, sir.”

Hayes stared at him longer.

Zac kept his face still.

Hayes had known him long enough to hear lies in posture. That was annoying.

”You start forcing throws because of the cameras, I’ll drag you off the field myself,” Hayes said.

Zac let out a short breath. ”Nice speech.”

”I save nice for teams that aren’t about to hit you in the mouth.”

Zac looked toward the Titans.

They were calm.

That bothered him more than rage.

Northview had played angry. Angry could be baited. Angry reached too far. Angry missed tackles because it wanted the hit more than the stop.

Woodstock looked different.

Their receivers caught, turned, and handed the ball back. Their defensive line hit pads and reset without making a show of it. Their quarterback threw deep, clean passes without looking impressed by himself.

Zac watched their defense rotate.

Balanced.

Patient.

Ready to make him earn everything.

”Win,” Hayes said.

Then he walked away.

Zac gave a lazy salute behind his back.

Mason came up behind Zac and slapped his shoulder pad hard enough to make him shift forward.

”Hayes already yelling at you?”

”He told me to win.”

Mason nodded. ”Damn. Coach of the year.”

Zac looked at Mason’s taped hands. ”You ready?”

Mason held them up. ”Ready enough.”

”Your hands look like shit.”

”Your face looks like shit. We playing football or doing beauty reviews?”

Dylan jogged over from the receivers’ line.

His ankle had been taped under the sock, and Zac knew it even though Dylan had tried to hide it. His wrist was taped too, thicker than usual under his glove. He moved fine if nobody watched closely.

Zac watched closely.

Dylan saw it and stopped in front of him. ”You checking me out now? I look good or what?”

Zac stared at him. ”You’re limping, and you look like the Grinch.”

Dylan shoved his mouthguard into the side of his mouth. ”You worried about my ankle, or you want to hold my hand too?”

Mason made a face. ”Please don’t. We’ve got enough rumors. The quarterback and receiver getting weird would make practice unbearable.”

Zac gave him a look. ”Just play, dumbass.”

Dylan pointed at Zac. ”Throw the ball where I can catch it. I’ll handle the rest.”

Reed stood near the other receivers, pulling his gloves tighter. He kept looking at the opposite sideline, then back at Dylan, then at Zac.

Reed was an up and coming sophomore. Maybe good enough to be captain after Zac’s year was gone. That mattered tonight, even if Reed looked like he might throw up on his cleats.

Zac called him over with two fingers.

Reed jogged toward them. ”Yeah?”

”They’ll remember you from the semifinal,” Zac said.

Reed swallowed once. ”I figured.”

”They’ll overcorrect if Dylan pulls coverage.”

Dylan lifted his chin. ”Which I will, because I’m pretty.”

Mason snorted. ”You are the ugliest guy I know.”

Zac ignored them and kept his eyes on Reed. ”When your route opens, run through it. No waiting to see if I’m looking.”

Reed nodded.

His fingers flexed once, then curled.

Dylan saw it. ”Bro, breathe before you pass out.”

”I’m breathing,” Reed said. ”This is just nerve wracking.”

”You’re gonna miss this when we’re gone.”

Reed gave him a look. ”That sounds like a bad bet.”

Dylan held out one hand. ”Hundred dollars.”

Reed looked at his hand, then shook it. ”Fine.”

Dylan grinned. ”I’ll collect next year.”

Kyle crossed the field from the defensive group, helmet hanging from one hand.

”Sup.”

Zac pointed at him. ”You good?”

Kyle looked toward Woodstock. ”Their slot talks too much.”

Zac followed his gaze.

A Titans receiver stood near midfield, laughing with one of his teammates. Quick feet. Loose shoulders. The kind of player who made defenders miss and smiled afterward.

Kyle’s eyes stayed on him.

Zac knew that look.

”Hit after the ball,” Zac said.

Kyle glanced at him. ”You don’t tell me what to do.”

”I’m your captain, dumbass.”

Kyle rolled his neck once. ”Sure. Whatever helps you sleep.”

Zac almost groaned.

These idiots were making jokes before the State Championship.

Then again, maybe that was how they kept from freezing up.

They were face to face with last year’s champion.

Dylan snorted. ”That dude’s gonna make you look stupid if you jump early.”

Kyle looked at him. ”Worry about your ankle, princess.”

Dylan stepped closer. ”Call me princess again and I’ll run routes on your side too.”

”You’d need two working legs.”

Mason stepped between them with both hands up. ”Relax. Save the weird flirting for after we win.”

Kyle shoved his shoulder. ”Move.”

Mason laughed and shoved him back. ”I’m serious. You two sound like you’re about to kiss and make the rest of us watch.”

Zac looked at all of them. ”Are you finished?”

Dylan pulled his mouthguard in. ”I’m ready.”

Kyle put his helmet on. ”I’m ready.”

Mason slapped the ball into Zac’s chest. ”Then call the damn game.”

Coach Hayes’s whistle cut through the air before anyone could answer.

”Captains.”

Zac put his helmet on.

The sound changed at once.

The stadium folded into the inside of his helmet. Crowd noise became heavier. His own breath became louder. His heartbeat settled somewhere behind his ears.

Mason walked beside him toward midfield.

Kyle joined from the defensive side.

The Woodstock captains met them at the logo.

Their quarterback was tall and calm in a way Zac disliked on sight. He was new this year, but he was bigger than Zac expected. Zac was taller, but the guy looked like he lived in a weight room. Zac had watched every clip he could find. He knew how powerful his throws were.

Almost as good as his.

The Titans quarterback looked at him and smiled.

”Prescott.”

Zac stared back. ”Yeah.”

”Big crowd for your loss.”

Mason shifted beside him.

Kyle’s shoulders went still.

Zac smiled without warmth. ”Don’t be jealous. If you play your cards right, maybe I’ll let you open for me next season.”

The Titans quarterback’s smile thinned. ”You’re not getting that record. I’ll make sure of it.”

The referee stepped between them and started talking through the coin toss.

Their quarterback had mentioned the record on purpose.

Zac was close to the single season passing record after the semifinal. The sports pages had started counting before he wanted them to. He couldn’t care less. That was what he kept telling himself.

But the state championship record was different.

That one belonged to one night.

One game.

One stage.

Four hundred and twelve passing yards.

That was the state championship record.

Break that and his name would sit above every quarterback who had played this game before him.

Lose this and people would still find a way to call it less.

The coin went up.

The referee caught it.

Briarwick would receive first.

Zac jogged to the offense.

The return team was already taking the field.

The kicker ran forward.

The ball sailed into the lights.

The state championship began.

The return got Briarwick to the twenty eight.

Zac ran onto the field with the offense.

The roar from the Briarwick side followed him. Students screamed his name. Someone near the front row had painted his number across a poster. Cameras shifted toward him the moment he stepped behind Mason.

He ignored the cameras.

He looked at the defense.

Woodstock lined up exactly how they had warmed up.

Balanced.

Patient.

Ready to make him prove the easy throws first.

Fine.

He could do easy.

The first play was a quick pass to the tight end.

Five yards.

The hit after it was clean, but hard. The Titans defender wrapped and drove through the tackle until both of them slid across the grass.

Their sideline clapped once.

Zac watched them reset.

They were too calm.

That made his shoulders tighten.

Second down.

Mason crouched over the ball. ”They’re waiting.”

”I see it.”

Zac looked right.

Dylan stood wide with the corner close to him. The corner was watching Dylan’s hips, not Zac’s eyes.

Zac looked left.

Reed had space.

Woodstock wanted to see if Zac would take it.

He would.

”Blue eighty.”

The snap came.

Zac dropped back.

His feet hit the grass clean.

The rush came slow at first, then folded from the right. Their defensive end slipped around the tackle with sharp hands, fighting through the block instead of running wide.

Zac felt the pocket shrink.

He planted before the end got there and threw to Reed.

The ball hit Reed at the chest.

Reed caught it and turned upfield.

A defender fought off a block and wrapped him at the waist, dragging him down after seven.

First down.

Reed popped up fast and tossed the ball to the ref.

His eyes found Zac.

Zac nodded once.

There.

The first one was done.

The drive moved.

Short pass.

Run.

Another short pass.

Mason kept calling pressure early. The linemen answered. The running back picked up a blitz and drove a Titan sideways long enough for Zac to hit the tight end over the middle.

Woodstock bent.

They refused to break.

At the thirty yard line, Zac looked toward Dylan.

Dylan’s defender had his hands low and his weight even.

He was waiting for the deep shot.

Dylan tapped two fingers against his thigh.

Inside.

Zac almost gave it to him.

Then he saw the safety.

With the way the Titans were shaped, it was clearly a trap.

Zac shook his head once.

Dylan’s jaw tightened, but he reset.

Trust went both ways.

The snap came.

Zac looked at Dylan just long enough to pull the safety.

Then he came back to Reed on the left.

Reed slipped behind the linebacker.

Zac threw.

The ball landed in Reed’s hands.

He took three steps before a defender hit him from the side and knocked him out of bounds.

The Briarwick sideline erupted.

Another first down.

Coach Hayes clapped once from the sideline. ”Good read.”

Zac barely heard him.

His shoulder warmed now. The ball felt right leaving his hand. The first drive nerves had burned off. His ribs still ached, but the pain sat under the rhythm instead of breaking it.

They reached the red zone.

Woodstock tightened.

The field got shorter. The defenders got louder. Their linebacker finally showed rage, slapping both hands against his chest before crowding the line.

Zac could feel them setting something up.