Free Impulsive by Catherine Hart

the duration of the game, the defense held the
Vikings from further scoring. With fifteen seconds showing on the clock, the
Vikings fumbled. The Knights gained possession of the ball on their own
fifty-two-yard line. It was obvious to all that with no time for anything else,
this was going to be a "Hail, Mary" attempt. The Vikings went for the
rush, but the Knights' defense held long enough for Ty to set his feet and throw.
It was the most perfect pass Jess had ever seen, as the ball spiraled toward
the end zone, hitting Shane Griffin square on the numbers. The crowd went
collectively nuts.
    The score was twenty-eight, twenty-seven, in favor of the Vikings.
One point would tie the game. Two would win it. It seemed every fan in the
stands was shouting for the two-pointer, for though a tie would automatically
send the two teams into overtime and perhaps give the Knights another chance to
score, it would allot the Vikings that same opportunity.
    For reasons Jess would never
understand, the head coach opted for the kick, instead. She and the rest of the
crowd held their breath and prayed. All for naught. The kick went wide to the
right as the clock ticked down to zero. The game was over, lost by one lousy
point. Rather, as Jess saw it, lost by two missed kicks by the most inept
kicker she'd ever had the misfortune to witness.
     
    What they had hoped would be a victory party turned out to be a
pity party at the Romes' house. Several of the major players and their partners
gathered there to commiserate with each other. The coaches and team owners were
noticeably absent, as was the shame-faced kicker. Though Jess had tried to back
out as well, Corey was having none of it. Moreover, Jess was still supposed to
be Ty's current flame, and was therefore expected to show up to lend her fellow
a sympathetic shoulder.
    "We almost did it, dammit!" one disgruntled player
grumbled, aping the various comments of his comrades. "I could throttle
that Alan Crumrine! What the hell did that boy do, put his shoes on the wrong
feet?"
    "More likely, he screwed his head on backwards," a
running back offered. "Sort of like our little Destiny here." He
hugged the cheerleader to his side, ruffling her hair affectionately.
    "I resent that remark," she piped up.
    "No, you resemble that remark," Dino told her with a
chuckle. "Come to think of it, so does our deer Bambi."
    Bambi struck an offended pose, her lower lip projecting in a
sultry pout. "As if you're some sort of genius, Sherwood. I saw you fumble
that ball tonight. Maybe you ought to try Super Glue next week."
    Dino shook his head. "Nah. I might get high on it, like you
do, carrot-top. Warp my fantastic brain cells."
    "Get a life, you creep," she shot back.
    Gabriel Rome chuckled. "Better watch it, Dino, or Bambi will
whack off your ponytail. You don't want to lose your talent like Samson lost
his strength when Delilah cut his hair short."
    "God forbid!" someone else put in. "Lord knows we
need all the talent we can muster right now, and then some."
    "I vote we let the cheerleaders play the next game,"
Heidi suggested with a sneer. "We sure couldn't do any worse than you guys
have been."
    "Right!" came the derisive reply from a linebacker.
"And what're you gonna use for muscle? Boobs, maybe?"
    "Good idea," Shasta said, thrusting out her ample chest.
"We might do better with these than you big apes do with your hammy thighs
and beer bellies."
    "Hey, woman! I've worked hard for this excellent
physique," Sir Loin Simms objected. He patted his protruding stomach.
"I've got a lot of pasta and beef invested here. You ought to learn the
difference between fat and muscle."
    "Well, buddy, this is muscle," Shasta contended,
bringing her arms in to her sides to accentuate her cleavage.
    The cheerleaders all nodded, each mimicking Shasta.
    "I'd wager there are more rubber bumpers here than there were
in the parking lot tonight!" Jack Hays proposed on a brusque laugh.
    "More silicone, anyway," Corey muttered in