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him. Me? If Tyler wasn’t here, I would’ve told my brother to shut it a long time ago.
    Every Sunday he’s in front of the TV. I think he knows the stats of almost every player in the NFL. Asks me almost every week if I’ll take him to the Skyhawk game. I don’t think I can bring myself to.
    It’s hard enough not to miss Dad like crazy. At least when I’m at the games with friends, I can pretend for a little while. If I took Josh, it would be a glaring reminder of what was missing. I love my brother more than anything, and there’s almost nothing I wouldn’t do for him, but if I can put him off indefinitely, I will.
    Maybe this is his way of holding onto Dad. If he can be good at football and know everything about it, then maybe he’ll be like him.
    Josh has the team in a huddle, spouting off directions about where he wants everyone and exactly what he wants them to do. His brown hair sticks to his sweaty forehead, and he swipes it away. The ends of his hair curl up on the collar of his shirt. I’ll have to remember to take him in for a haircut.
    “Okay, guys,” I say, bringing my focus to my own huddle. “Reed, you’re on Kingston. Brewer, you have Nolan.” I feel a little dumb calling my brother by his last name, but hey when you’re with the boys… “We can’t let them score. This is for the game.”
    “Break!” We all yell and line up. The offense gives us menacing looks from across the line. Nothing like a six-year-old trying to intimidate you.
    I try to keep my focus off Tyler. After that almost kiss in front of a bunch of seven-year-olds, I’ve done everything not to watch him or think about him. But damn it’s hard , especially when his shirt is wet and clinging to his muscles.
    “Down. Set. Hike.” Tyler’s voice makes me shift my gaze to him. I have to watch him. He’s going to have the ball.
    He catches the snap, drops out of the pocket, and then moves right. It looks like he’s going to hand it to Brewer, arms stretched out, but at the last minute he pivots left and passes to Josh.
    I run toward my brother and just when I’m about to tackle him, Tyler grabs my waist and holds me in place. I whip around in his arms, but they don’t budge. Josh runs right past me. Brewer dives to tackle him and gets nothing but a mouthful of grass, landing about a foot away from him. Josh prances into the end-zone.
    “Yes! Woohoo! We won!” He slams the football into the grass and does a touchdown dance—him shaking his knees and pumping his arms up and down.
    “You were lucky,” I say in a mock angry tone. “Next time, you’re toast.” I take my finger and slice it across my neck.
    He laughs and keeps dancing. His fellow teammates join his dance party, and I turn to face Tyler who still has his arms around my middle.
    “Gonna let go? You can join your teammates for a celebration dance.”
    “Coach tells us it’s unsportsmanlike behavior,” he says, keeping his hands locked around my waist. “Besides, I sort of feel more victorious right here.”
    “Oh. Okay.” I move my hands slowly and rest them on his stomach, right about where his bellybutton would be. He’s hot and sweaty, and it’s okay ’cause I am too. And he has this musky, male scent that is really making my brain feel funny.
    “What did you do to me?” It tumbles out of my mouth before I can stop it.
    “Huh?” His eyebrows scrunch together.
    “I don’t know… It’s just a little crazy and I… sorry.” I push on his stomach, needing some space.
    His hands are tightly clasped behind my back, but he lets me inch away. He doesn’t say anything for a minute. His cheeks are flushed, and I don’t know if it’s from playing football or blushing.
    “It’s crazy,” he says and nods.
    We just stare at each other like we’re trying to figure out what the other one is thinking. Tiny flecks of grey are in his eyes. They remind me of blue ice cubes.
    “Hey Sammy?” Josh comes up beside us, and Tyler and I jump