Free Fourth Down by Kirsten DeMuzio

feet up on the coffee table. His baseball cap lay
beside him on the end table, and his hair was sticking out in a few
places. It made me want to curl up beside him and run my fingers
through it. To tame it down or mess it up more. It didn’t matter
which; I just wanted to touch him.
    From the first time I saw him in his
cowboy hat and no shirt on Halloween, I was attracted to him. His
less than pleasant demeanor after that had prevented me from
wanting to act on that attraction. But now that he was actually
being a decent human being? And stretched out on the couch with
that space right next to him calling for me to snuggle up? Even if
I wanted to, it would be a cold day in hell before I ever made the
first move on a guy. Especially this guy. He was way out of my
league, and he probably saw me more as a little sister
anyway.
    I didn’t realize I had been standing
in the doorway staring at him until he turned his lethal blue gaze
on me. “Poppy? You okay?”
    Snapping out of my Ford induced daze,
I nodded. “Yup, I’m fine.”
    Then I noticed what he was looking at
and ran over to try to snatch it out of his hands, but he was
faster. He moved the family photo album off his lap and held it out
to the side, causing me to miss when I lunged for it. I ended up
sprawled across his lap, reaching for it. Why was I always
inappropriately touching him?
    “Give me that!”
    “No way. It’s only fair since you’ve
seen my baby pictures.”
    “Fine,” I huffed, trying to gracefully
crawl off his lap. He chuckled at my obvious discomfort and put his
arm along the back of the couch behind me when I sat up next to
him. Here I was snuggled up against him after all.
    “Walk me through your life, Poppy,” he
said setting the photo album so it was half on his lap and half on
mine. With a sigh, I leaned in just a bit closer and looked through
the album with him. There were a lot of me as a baby and a little
girl with both my parents. From there the pictures jumped to the
time after my dad’s death. I didn’t realize it at the time, but my
mom must not have wanted to remember the long months when my dad
was sick.
    When we got to pictures of me when I
was in high school, Ford pointed out that I wore a Cornell t-shirt
in at least half the pictures.
    “Why aren’t you at Cornell? Or did you
just really like that shirt?”
    I leaned my head back against his arm
and looked up at the ceiling. “Cornell was my dream school. I was
accepted, but the scholarships I got weren’t enough. My mom and
Rick couldn’t afford it. They really couldn’t afford anything,
which is why I work two jobs.”
    Ford’s hand dropped to my shoulder and
he absentmindedly traced circles on my arm. Even through my shirt I
could feel the warmth of his fingers. I glanced at him to see why
he was being so quiet, but he looked lost in thought. As if he
suddenly remembered me, he looked down with a sad smile.
    “I guess I’m not the only one with
broken dreams, huh?”
    I shrugged. “My dream wasn’t quite as
big as yours.”
    He dropped his head back too and
started playing with strands of my long hair, running his fingers
through it and letting it fall.
    “It’s not any different, Poppy. It was
something you really wanted, and no matter how hard you worked for
it you couldn’t have it. Your dreams are just as
important.”
    I didn’t really know what to say, but
Ford continued on, “I would have played football for minimum wage.
I loved it that much… Everybody probably thinks it’s the money I’m
upset about losing. It is, but not for the reason you would think.
When I decided to go into the draft after my third year, it was for
the money. I would have preferred to stay at LSU and play another
year. My mom’s cancer had come back, and I thought if I could get
that big signing bonus and contract I could get her the best
medical care. I thought I could bribe the cancer to
leave.”
    His voice was gruff, and I could hear
the emotion in it. From what