I took it easy at first, warming up. My first intention had been to press hard today, but after seeing the show of testosterone between the guys, I was going to do the opposite. I was going to take my time. They would lap me, which they did. The cross country team was pushing harder than they ever had, but the football team wasn’t far behind. The difference between the teams was that Logan’s group could only run like this one day. Hayes and the rest would be winded from going so fast, but they’d be able to do the same route tomorrow.

After the third mile, the football team had slowed and began to separate. Even as I began to pass them up, I knew I wouldn’t find Logan until later. He’d keep up with Hayes, just to piss him off, or he would try. It was mile five when I passed the girl’s team. I imagined they were annoyed at first, but by the time I got to them they were all smiles. I didn’t blame them. I remembered running with Mason. It was exhilarating. He was a primal specimen of hotness. Mason. Running. I fought against pushing him down on the trail at least twenty times.

I noticed Kris ahead. She wasn’t running with her friends. Instead, she had paired off with two football players. I didn’t know their names, but I recognized them and remembered they were juniors. They weren’t friends with Logan, I assumed, as one guy kept falling back to check out Kris’ ass.

When I passed them, I glanced over, caught Kris’ gaze, and didn’t look away. She swallowed and looked down to the ground. I moved on, but before I went over a hill and fell out of eyesight, I looked back once more. She had separated from the two guys, but they didn’t seem to mind. Their gazes were trained on her ass with smirks lingering over their faces.

Well, shit. What was I supposed to do about that? Nothing, my inner voice piped up. Shaking my head, shoving everything out, I kicked forward with more speed than I had anticipated. The need to push harder was back. Gritting my teeth, I let it loose. My legs lengthened their stride. I held my hands loose so those muscles wouldn’t be exerted, and my head ducked down a little bit.

It wasn’t long before I lapped all of the football team. Skimming over the last two guys, I recognized one of Logan’s friends, Derek, and he gestured ahead. Nothing was said, but I got the drift. Logan was still ahead. I sprinted over four more hills before the trees began to change.

Fallen Crest Academy had planted spruce, pine, and redwoods around the campus. The redwoods were still young, but they towered over the running path. I kept going ahead. I was approaching the ridge that overlooked my old school, and the closer I got, I popped my earbuds out and listened. I was right. I could hear shouts and grunts ahead. The sound of shoulder pads smashing into each other came next, along with a thudding sound. I didn’t expect to see anyone on the trail, but as I came around the last bend, some of the cross country guys were there. They had stopped and were watching the team below. Logan and another guy stood at the end.

I had to laugh. The paradigm from Logan and his teammate versus the cross country guys was almost comical. Their shoulders were broad. Their shirts had been abandoned and tucked into their waistbands. With arms resting on their hips, their backs were covered in sweat, but their muscles looked finely sculpted. If Mason had been there, he would’ve perfected the image of male hotness.

“Stop checking me out, Strattan.” A grin teased the corner of Logan’s mouth. “You’re practically family.” He waited a beat. “You’ll turn me on.”

I rolled my eyes and slowed to stand beside him. Eric lifted his head. I felt the weight of his gaze for a moment, but ignored it. Nodding to the football field below us, I asked, “Are you guys ogling my old team? Or just need an excuse for a breather?”

We weren’t too high up and, as if hearing me, they glanced up from below. Two of the players paused, then said something to another two. Those looked up and they spoke to another group. That group looked up. A ripple effect spread over the whole field until the coaches realized their players weren’t paying attention. One of the coaches left their huddle and moved to get a better view of us.

It was my dad.

Logan chuckled. “He must love me so much by now.”

I sighed. “Not quite.” Lifting a hand in a wave, I called down, “Hi, Dad.”

One hand went to his hip, holding his clipboard, and the other went to his forehead, shielding his eyes from the sun. “Sam? What are you doing?”

The guys to my left looked over to us. Hayes kept shifting back and forth on his heels. His hand kept fidgeting with his shirt and I knew he was darting looks at us too. Logan rolled his shoulders back, propped one on my shoulder, and leaned against me. He waved down. “We’re scouting the competition. What do you think, Mr. Strattan?”

Even from our distance, I could see my dad wasn’t happy. He pointed up to us with the clipboard. “It’s Coach Strattan to you, Logan.”

His arm fell from my shoulder, and he straightened next to me. “Yes, sir, Coach Strattan.” His tone lost some of the amusement, and I bit down on my lip. My dad had just put Logan in his place, but I had no idea how or what place it was. I just knew Logan reacted to the bark from him.

Catching my reaction, Logan cursed and rolled his eyes. “Why’s your dad all puss and shoes at home and Mr. Hardass on the field?”

“He’s a coach.” I flashed him a grin. “Which he just reminded you of.”

“Shut up.” But Logan couldn’t hide his half-grin. “I think I got a chubby for your dad. Don’t tell Mason. He’ll think I’m cheating on him.”

“Hey, Logan.” His friend suddenly shifted to the side, his back turning towards us, facing the path coming from the right.

The cross country guys moved to see down the path and a few of them cursed. They looked to Hayes, “What do we do?”

Hayes looked to us. I didn’t move, but Logan rounded the side to stand next to his friend. As he moved, I got a glimpse ahead. A few of the Fallen Crest Academy players were coming up the side hill, heading our way. They were dressed in shirts, shorts, and their shoulder pads, but a few had black streaks on their face, giving them an intimidating air.

Logan said, “Okay. That’s far enough. Stop, drop your pads, because it’s hammer time.”

Someone snorted. “Fuck off.”

The team stiffened, but a wide grin escaped me. That was Mark. Moving so I could see better, I noticed that Adam had remained on the field, and I was glad. Only a handful had come with Mark to see us. I circled out to stand on Logan’s free side. As I did, I asked, “What are you doing up here?”