Joe stepped into the bedroom and found Jasmine curled up in a ball. He sat at her feet. "Did I fly through a portal into another dimension or something? What is going on? Why are you picking fights with Kim again?"
"I'm frustrated, Joe!" Her voice was muffled against her arm. "We've been trying this thing for months, and it's not working!"
He stroked her calf. He and Jasmine shared many secrets through the years, some still current, and they had become even closer since Ashley still allowed and even encouraged their periodic date nights. Flirting with her was fun, and they occasionally let it evolve to some pretty heavy petting. They always stopped themselves short of making love, but some sessions resulted in climaxes, a few of which Ashley enjoyed watching. It was a deep, deep friendship, and Joe was disheartened to see Jasmine this upset. More than that, she seemed to be in pain.
"Jazz, dear, we knew going in that this would be a long-shot. There's a long way to go before we've reached the last of possibilities."
"I know that!" she shot back. Jasmine regretted being that harsh, but she couldn't help it. "But, I... part of me hoped that I could go in, get it on the first or second attempt, and be the hero. It's just not happening, Joe. I'm failing and I hate that."
"You're not failing. For all we know, I might be the one lousing this up. But why are you mad at Kim? Were you hoping to snag Jon yourself?"
Jasmine sat up, her pretty face wet with tears. She wiped her cheeks against her arms and rested a glare at Joe. "Jealous, humph. I'm not jealous of Kim or for Jon. It's just that everyone has a boyfriend or husband, and I ...can't."
The statement rang home to Joe. She said 'can't'. It was clear she didn't mean 'can't find a guy' or 'can't find the time.' It was an assertion that she had forbidden herself from getting attached to someone. "Please don't feel like that. You can..." He wasn't sure how to finish that statement.
"No, Joe! You'd have to pry me from you and Ashley with a crowbar. I love you guys too much." Her eyes fell. "But, I also miss being able to have someone to myself. I'm over playing around with bad boys. You and Ash broke me of that, and now I love messing around with either or both of you. There's just something to be said about the thrill of getting to know someone and have it work out so that they become yours. I know I'm not making sense. I'll figure it out, but I just need everyone to be patient with me."
"Did you want to stop?"
She knew what he meant, and sighed. "What? And rid Ashley of a chance? No way. I'll keep trying with you."
* * *
Things settled out for them after a while. They went back to school. In addition, Ashley resumed her informal playing in the rundown amphitheater, Jasmine gained proficiency in her video hobby while continuing her work as album designer, Jill picked up an internship at the state capital complex on top of cheering, and Kim took a more proactive role with the teens Cindy assisted. Joe played football. He didn't start for the team, but being a third-string quarterback had it's perks, at least in his eyes. He got to play -- a LOT -- for the scout team. His main task, and one he did exceptionally well, was to watch footage of upcoming opponents and mimic the quarterback's style of play. His aptitude was great enough that the coach often credited the defense's successes to the scout team, and even mentioned Joe by name once. Joe had the gameday duty of holding up a towel to block views of coach hand signals from TV cameras, and perform a field head count on every play.
He was impressed that Ashley flew to see his away games, usually with Jasmine, but sometimes on her own. She didn't mind flying anymore, but ensured it was always jet service. Perceived threats to her family had quieted down, and Sam was now the only security member assigned to them full-time. He always booked a seat a couple of rows back from them. She'd catch Jasmine glancing his way on the flights, and volunteered to swap with him for at least part of the trip so the two could catch up with each other personally.
Then it happened, the game that put Joe's name on the lips of many sports analysts and therefore the map of college football. They were away at Clemson in a vital match-up near the end of the season. Both being in the same division, having just one loss in conference play, the winner would play in the conference title game two weeks away. The contest was hotly debated with almost no scoring. The Tigers made a last push, getting close enough for their kicker to bounce an improbably long try over the crossbar. It left only seconds on the clock.
The last few games had taken a toll on the usually deep corps of FSU receivers. Three were already on injured reserve before the game, another went out with a concussion early in this half, and one more was lost to a twisted knee on the previous series. The thin hope of running back the kickoff for a touchdown evaporated as the ball sailed over the back of the endzone. During the TV time-out, the coach huddled the team to run down the prayer of a play. An assistant coach called Joe's name and nodded toward the huddle. Joe grabbed his helmet from the bench and glanced at the scoreboard on his way to the huddle. 3 -- 0, and only 5 ticks remaining.
The huddles broke and the home crowd came to life one more time, putting teeth into the stadium nicknamed "Death Valley" for the frightening loud atmosphere. Ashley and Jasmine stood quiet in the middle of the friendly visitors section. Their disappointment and almost dread of an early season end contrasted against the electric home cheers that were willing their team to hold one more time. Jasmine nudged Ashley.
"Hey, doesn't Joe wear number 6?" She had to cup her hands around Ashley's ear to be heard. Then she pointed at the field.
Ashley looked and was surprised that his jersey was indeed one of the players lining up. "But what is he doing in the slot?"
Jasmine shrugged. "He does have good hands." The two would normally snicker and squirm at the unintended double meaning, but not tonight.
Joe stepped up to the 25 yard line and checked in as a receiver with a point to the referee. He set himself and turned to face the ball on the scrimmage line. The ball snapped, and the play was a disaster before it even began. The crowd roared as the ball went sailing over his quarterback's head. Joe sprinted back to recover the ball. He was the first player to reach the ball, but didn't catch up with it until near his own goal line. Defensive linemen were on his heels, so he allowed his momentum to carry him into the endzone before he circled back in the right direction. He waved down field, trying to get the other two receivers and tight end moving. He pulled up at his 22 and ducked, feeling the pressure from behind him. A linebacker went sailing over him. The receivers were covered, and he scrambled, trying to keep from getting tackled. Joe somehow stepped out of a sure leg tackle, thinking about running it himself. The landscape before him wasn't favorable, as the safety and cornerbacks had recovered from the initial confusion. He caught the eye of the teammate that had lined up next to him and pointed towards the far corner of the field. Joe had to backtrack to keep from getting hit, then spun out of another near-tackle, set his feet and launched the ball.
Ashley and Jasmine were holding onto each other by now, frazzled by the stress of seeing Joe under so much duress. It seemed that the ball was hefted in desperation, it's velocity and altitude making it unlikely someone would be around to catch it. But unlike Jasmine and most of the crowd, who stared at the tight spiral streaking across the sky, Ashley had kept track of what was happening on the field. She clutched at Jasmine.
"OhmyGod, ohmygod, ohmygod," she fired off rapidly, watching the player in white and gold sprint for all he was worth two strides ahead of the one clad in all orange. "Oh my God!" she yelled when the receiver held out his hands. "Don't drop it!"
Screams of despair shrieked from around the stadium while Ashley and Jasmine joined their neighbors in a mighty cheer when the ball settled neatly into the receiver's arms deep in the endzone. Joe glanced around at the field and, unbelievably in all the confusion and desperation of the busted play, there were no penalty flags. His team stormed in from the sideline and soon he was buried under a mountain of happy bodies.
They stayed in Tallahassee for Thanksgiving, as the Noles were playing their rival game at home against Florida that Saturday. Ashley texted the team an invitation to have dinner with them. Kim had done a good deal of research and loaded the numbers into Ashley's phone, even the coaches. The broadcast message stated that while everyone was welcome, only the first 20 through the door would receive plates. They had a double oven, so two turkeys could be prepared, but making enough sides, salads, and dessert for 20 was about the limit of their abilities and counter space. 14 players showed, three of them brought their girlfriends, and one brought his wife. Ashley and Joe were almost relieved to meet another married couple as young as themselves. It was a happy gathering and the players agreed with each other that if Joe had a restaurant, he could make a killing. Not that he needed to, as demonstrated by the amazing penthouse.
Joe started in the slot receiver position for the remainder of the games. The coach needed someone to step up and fill in the injury-riddled spot. He and the receivers' coach watched Joe work through drills during the week, and found him to be a more than capable possession receiver. Joe just didn't drop balls. The decision was a good one, as Joe averaged 130 yards a game, and was key during big third-down plays. Doing whatever he was asked to help wherever he was needed, he became known as "Workin' Joe" to the team, and after winning their bowl game, an assistant coach even presented him a power company hard hat. He said with a wink that Joe was the best UTILITY player he's worked with. The team groaned in good nature at the pun.
Their quarterback announced he would leave for the draft that spring, and fierce competition for the vacated starting spot began during the spring drills. Joe put his hat into the ring, unable to shake his natural gravitation toward leadership. Scouting reporters had already put him as the favorite to take the helm. They based their prediction on his high school record, along with the brilliant scramble and 80 yard strike he threw in his first game, despite the broken play that was supposed to be a Hail Mary pass, with Joe running a decoy route. But in the world of young elite athletes, nothing was a given.
