Oh, hell no.
I don’t want that thing anywhere near me.
The not-Sutton Wildcat stops when he sees me, plants his feet, and points the cannon right at my mid-section.
What the fuck?
I debate shoving Coop in front of me, but I’m too slow.
The Wildcat pulls the trigger. Nothing happens.
Thank Christ. I’m not okay being shot in the nuts at pointblank range.
My teammates laugh, like they’re all in on the joke as the mascot hands his cannon to one of the cheerleaders and claps his paws to his cheeks in the universal sign forOh, no.
Oh, no is right. I don’t want any part of this skit. It’s too fucking painful. A reminder of Sutton and her Wildcat shenanigans.
I must look like I’m ready to bolt because Vaughn leans in close and whispers, “Just go with it.”
Like I have any other choice.
We have an audience of thirty-thousand, give or take.
One of the cheerleaders hands the Wildcat a sign, and he holds it up to the crowd before turning to me.
I’m sorry.
The crowd goes nuts as he drops to one knee and tosses the sign aside, clasping his hands together like a beggar.
More like begging for forgiveness.
A couple of guys slap me on the ass and back, hooting and hollering, telling me to forgive the furball.
“Come on, man. Forgive your furry friend,” Coop says, shoving me forward.
I look the Wildcat square in the eye. We’re the only ones who know the truth. The only ones that know it’s not him I need to forgive, but I flash him a smile and nod, playing along for the fans.
The Wildcat leaps to his feet and comes in for a hug, arms outstretched.
Nope.
Too far.
I shake my head and hold out my free hand instead.
He makes a show of being disappointed and my teammates start chanting “Hug it out!”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. How is this my life?
The cheerleaders join in, carrying the chant back to the fans and then the entire stadium is shouting “Hug it out!” as the Wildcat raises his arms, encouraging them to get louder.
I look to the stands, to Coach, to my teammates.
This moment takes peer pressure to a whole new level.
I spread my arms wide, helmet dangling from my right hand, and turn to the Wildcat.
He claps his hands over his mouth, like he’s the one who should be embarrassed right now, but makes no move to accept the hug.
