A/N: This might take a few chapters to get going but I hope you give it a chance and stick with it. I'm posting the first four chapters at once to give you enough of a sense of where things are going. Hope you like it!

Disclaimer: Sadly, I own nothing.

Prologue

When he stepped onto the field, he positively swaggered. He was filled with a confidence he'd never felt before and his strut reflected that certainty. This was his time. His year. He was a senior. Defending high school champion. And he felt invincible.

"Hey man," he high-fived a passing teammate. "Good job last year," he fist-bumped another. Finn felt on top of the world. He felt like a football god. He managed to pull together a ragtag bunch of immature, in-fighting prima donnas and brought home fucking States! Now, with Karofsky apparently tamed (by Santana of all people), the tension within the team had reduced considerably. He was sure they'd repeat as State champs and he hoped that could mean a scholarship at some Division III school somewhere.

Things with Rachel were looking up too. After the epic fail that was Nationals, they decided to take it slow (well Rachel decided they should take it slow) and see how things played out, but he was determined to set himself firmly in the "boyfriend" camp and avoid the "just friends" route that "taking it slow" often resulted in. He was sure his new found confidence would win her over and he'd finally get the girl, make a name for himself, and have it all. This was his year.

"Dude!"

Finn glanced to his left and saw Puck jogging towards him.

They clasped hands and bumped chests.

"This year's gonna be awesome," Puck smirked and playfully shoved Finn's chest. "We like rule this joint, dude." Puck took an exaggerated breath. "Can you smell that, bro?" he asked rhetorically. "That's power. This place is ours for the taking! This is our mother-fucking senior year!"

Finn chuckled a bit and shook his head. People were always telling him that modesty was part of being beloved. He didn't really get the association, but he didn't care enough to challenge it either. Finally, he responded with a simple, "totally!"

As they continued reminiscing, a football flew past their line of vision.

"Whoa."

Peering across the field, Finn spotted a tall, muscular jock decked out in McKinley pads and helmet, and sporting a jersey with the number "8" emblazoned on the front and back. The jock stood next to Coach Bieste and Finn could see that he was tall. Not as tall as Finn because that would be like impossible; but the newbie was at least 6 foot.

Number 8 moved effortlessly around the field. His feet never seemed to stop. It was almost as if he was dancing, performing some intricate ballet that allowed him to coast across the field with ease.

And his arm? Finn had never seen anything like it. At least not on a high school team. Number 8 picked up ball after ball, at times rifling it 20-30 yards, at others hurling it down field 50 yards and more, all with pinpoint accuracy.

This was supposed to be his year. He was set to rule the school, get the girl, and finally make a name for himself.

This was not a good sign.

Bieste gestured to a group of receivers running patterns down field and the jock hit each in turn. Again and again and again. It didn't matter the route; wherever the receiver ran, the quarterback hit him every time.

After a seemingly impossible throw that landed square in the receiver's chest, the quarterback took off his (wait, what?)… her helmet and shook out long black hair.

"Oh shit."

Chapter One

"Alright boys, gather round," Coach Bieste instructed. The team circled around her in the middle of the field. All eyes, however, were on the tall brunette next to her. "Welcome back McKinley High State Champions!"

Cheers and chest-thumping resounded across the field.

"Alright, alright," Bieste calmed the team down. "We had an amazing season last year and with teamwork, hard work, and strong leadership, I have every confidence we'll do it again and defend our title!"

After another wave of cheers, Bieste continued. "Now before we get to our official training, I want to introduce you to the newest member of the team. She's an amazing athlete and I want to see you welcome and respect her starting now." She leveled a stern look to seemingly every member of the squad. She grabbed number 8's shoulder and pushed her to the center of the circle.

"Team, welcome Landon Shariff. Riff's a transfer from MLK and will be filling in where she can." Landon stood with her back straight and shoulders square. Her long, straight hair blew across the tan, angular features of her face. She hesitated making eye contact but knew that if they were ever going to accept her, she'd need to start holding her own and then some starting now. She lifted her eyes.

When she was younger, her height was a source of derision and exclusion. Now, in this setting, she used it to her advantage. Few of her teammates could match her stature and she did all she could to make them know that.

Long, strong fingers gripped the helmet at her side. Wide, white knuckles were the only things giving away her nervousness.

She scanned the group and her hazel eyes keyed in on a tall, almost ridiculously so, brown-haired boy eyeing her warily. When their eyes met, she knew instantly that she had met her biggest competition.

Finn surveyed the jock—the girl—before him. He squinted, he wanted to believe because of the sun, but deep down he knew it was more than that. It was fear. He tried to push it down and took in his new teammate.

She was tall, just like he thought. A solid 6-foot maybe even 6-1. She was broad-shouldered but slender at the waist. She had light eyes that flickered and changed as they picked up the rich colors of the sky and field around her.

To Finn, she looked exotic. She could even be beautiful if not for the uniform she wore and the threat she posed.

"Riff's gonna be trying out for quarterback—" Before Bieste could finish her statement, a chorus of groans filled the stadium.

"Coach!" Finn asserted. "This isn't fair. I took us to States," he thumped his chest with his helmet. "It's my senior year. I gotta be quarterback!"

Before Finn could continue, Bieste stepped in front of Landon, squeezing her shoulder lightly as she brushed past her.

"Look, nothing's decided right now." She turned to look directly at Finn. "You are our Captain and quarterback unless you or Riff show me otherwise." Bieste pressed a firm hand on his shoulder. "You lead the team, okay? Own it."