On Monday, Tami was surprised to find Mo waiting for her at the bottom of the steps of the church when she got off work at 4:45 PM. He offered to walk her home.

"Where's your car?" she asked.

Mo draped an arm around her waist and slid his hand into the back pocket of her jeans. "28 dropped me off." Number 28 was Tony Sullivan, a seventeen-year-old sophomore and enormous linebacker who had repeated both 8th and 9th grade. In a year, when the Texas legislature passed the "No Pass No Play" rule, Tony would be booted from the team for failing to maintain a 70% average, but at the moment, he was the best defensive player they had.

Walking with Mo was a very different experience from being walked home by Eric. Tami could feel the pressure of Mo's hand against her bottom, sense the warmth of his hip against her hip, and smell the mildly sweet scent of his cologne. (Did Eric even wear cologne? Tami wondered. If he did, she hadn't noticed.) Tami loved how affectionate Mo was and how he never seemed ashamed to show his appreciation for her in public. Mo also never let the conversation lag. He had a high energy, and talking to him was a bit like a ping pong match, with the dialogue constantly snapping back and forth. The ball never hit the ground, and there was something at once exhilarating and draining about that.

"It's nice of you to walk me home," she said when there was a rare pause in the conversation.

"Well, I did it because I wanted to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being such a Debbie Downer Friday night. I guess maybe I'm just a little jealous of Eric."

"I've been getting that vibe."

"Football just comes so easily to him, you know? He doesn't have to work at it the way I do."

Tami was pretty sure Eric worked at it more than Mo did – running routes every single morning with his dad, studying game tape on the weekends - but she didn't think it wise to say so.

"And I know he's probably going to get a full scholarship someplace," Mo continued, "and I'll be lucky if I get fifty percent. And it just doesn't seem fair. God knows I need the money more than he does. His dad owns a bar. How sweet is that?"

"I don't think his dad is particularly wealthy, though. I'd guess a lot of money is tied up in his business." If Mr. Taylor was wealthy, he sure didn't flash money around or buy his son expensive toys. Eric drove a used pick-up and his clothes were…what had he said about her cowgirl boots? Functional.

"I'd love to own a bar one day," Mo said, "or maybe a stadium."

"A stadium?" Tami asked with a laugh. "That's pretty ambitious. What, are you going to become some kind of real estate mogul?"

"Hey, anything can happen, honey babe." That was another thing Tami loved about Mo - he had this eternal sense of optimism about him. They were nearing the coffee shop now, and he said, "I haven't been to this place since last winter. Want to pop in and get some hot chocolate?"

"Nah, I'm not in the mood." She didn't think it was a good idea to throw Eric and Mo together right now, especially when he'd just been talking about his jealousy. It could be awkward. She moved so quickly by the door that Mo's hand came out of her back pocket, and he hustled to catch up with her, but not before glancing inside. This time he slung his arm around her shoulders. "Hey, I saw Eric in there."

"Yeah," she said, "he works there from 4:30 to close and then cleans up."

"Oh, you know his exact hours, do you?"

"Yeah," she replied, puzzled by the accusation in his voice. "He told me."

"So you mean Anita was right when she told me Eric's been chatting you up behind my back?"

"He's not chatting me up. We had a couple of conversations."

"What are you doing talking so much to Eric Taylor?"

"What are you doing talking so much to Anita Nisbeth?" she shot back.

He frowned and looked away. When he looked back, he was happy Mo again. He wiggled his eyebrow at her. "You're kind of cute when you're jealous, Tami, baby. Come on." He hugged her tight and kissed the top of her head. "We're being idiots. Let's not be idiots."

Tami smiled. He was right. She was as big a fool to think Mo might be flirting with Anita as Mo was to think Eric might be flirting with her.

[*]

The Tigers won again on Friday, this time by a wider margin. Tami hadn't been to the coffee shop in a while, so she stopped in the following Wednesday evening. As Eric rung up her coffee order, she congratulated him on Friday's game.

"You too," he said. "I mean, on your volleyball game Saturday morning. I heard y'all won again."

She handed him a five dollar bill. "Yeah. Barely. And to a team that sucks."

The cash register dinged. "Hey, don't knock it. A win is a win." He was holding her change, but he didn't hand it to her. "Think you'll play in college?"

She laughed. "No. I'm not nearly that good."

"Kimberley said you were one of the better players."

Oh? Was he talking to Kimberley now? Maybe her matchmaking magic would ever so slowly work after all. "Yeah, but the team isn't very good, so that's not saying much. We only won three games last year. We're hoping for four this year."

He finally handed her the change, and she thanked him. As soon as she sat down at a table, Tami became engrossed in Pride and Prejudice, which her English teacher had assigned the class. A half hour later, Eric interrupted her. "Want a refill?" he asked as he picked up her cup. She nodded, and her eyes fell back to the book.

A couple minutes later, he set the cup down without saying anything. Before he could turn back toward the counter, she said, "You kind of remind me of Mr. Darcy."

"Of who?"

She held up the book. "Didn't your class get assigned this?"

"Ah. Yeah. I haven't started it yet. I'm just gonna read the Master Plot summary."

"Don't you have to write a paper on it?" she asked.

"Yeah, but as long as I know the plot, I can just b.s. it. I use impressive vocabulary. I always get at least a B+."

"Maybe you're more like Wickham then."

"Who?" he asked.

"Never mind." She smiled and went back to reading the book.

It was 6:52 PM when she heard him putting up the chairs. She finished up the last two pages of the book and shoved it in her backpack. "Does the owner know you close up eight minutes early?" she asked as she stood.

"You're the only one who's ever here after 6:40."

She began walking toward the door, but slowly, because she knew he was going to offer to walk her home. He did, and, after locking the door behind them, he strolled quietly beside her. The air was muggy. It had rained earlier, and it was 70-degrees. They were having one of those fluky Texas weather weeks: 50 one day, 70 the next. Sunshine then rain.

Tami inhaled. Mo's cologne had made her wonder what Eric smelled like. She got the scent of the afternoon rain first, which was still drying on the sidewalk, and then something like Ivory soap. Eric didn't smell special. He just smelled clean.

As they walked, Tami decided to play a game. She wasn't going to say a word, and she was going to count how many seconds it took him to start a conversation. When she had counted silently to 280, she tired of the game and asked, "What did you do Saturday night? Anything fun?"

"Mark Garrity's party."

"Really? I didn't see you there."

"I was in the rec room the whole time."

Tami had not set foot in the rec room, because that's where the kegs were. Her father had only given her permission to go to the party because he hadn't expected there to be alcohol. The Garritys went to their church, and the Reverend trusted Mark's father. What he didn't know – because Tami also didn't know - was that Mr. and Mrs. Garrity were out of town that weekend for a romantic getaway, and Mark's older cousin Buddy had been called in to "supervise" him while they were gone.

Buddy Garrity was twenty-two and lived two towns over in Dillon. He'd helped lead Dillon High's Panthers to a State Championship his senior year. He was now a car salesman, and though he was engaged to be married, he apparently missed his high school party days, and so he had graciously supplied his cousin with two kegs of beer. Tami told her father all this when she got home, swore she didn't know there would be so much alcohol, and promised him she hadn't touched it herself. Her father thanked her for her honesty and went back to editing his sermon.

"So you like to stay close to the beer?" she asked.

"Nah. I don't usually have more than one. But that Buddy Garrity guy, he kept egging me on and on to get into this drinking game, so eventually I just gave in. Huge mistake. I got really drunk really fast, and Father Jack drove me home. I saw you when we were leaving, but you were sucking face with Mo, so…I didn't stop to say hi."

"Are you and Jack good friends?"

Eric shrugged. "I like him. We hang out sometimes."

"How did your parents react when you came home drunk?"

"My mom was asleep, and my dad was fortunately at Taylor's, working on the books."

Tami was having a hard time imagining him drunk. "So, what? You just went straight to bed and slept it off?"

"Not exactly. I uh….I did a little drunk dialing."

"Uh oh."

"Yeah," he sighed. "I called my ex."

"Uh oh."

"Yeah. Told her I missed her and that I still think about her a lot. And when she didn't answer right away…" He covered his face with his hand and spoke through it, "I yelled at her."

"What did you say?"

He dropped his hand. "I don't even remember, but I said it loud enough that I woke up my mother."

"Uh oh. What did your mother do?"

"She gave me milk and cookies and sent me to bed."

Tami threw back her head and laughed. "What did she really do?"

"That's what's she really did. She told me it would help with the hangover to have some food and hydration, and that I better go straight to bed and try to look presentable for my father in the morning."

"Wow. If I came home to the parsonage totally drunk, my mom would have been wailing and heaping ashes on her head."

Eric chuckled.

Tami slowed to a stop before the parsonage. "Well, this is me."

Eric nodded, the almost-bow that was growing familiar to her, and waited for her to open the door.

[*]

The Tigers, under Eric's leadership, were having an impressive season. They won their next football game yet again, but Tami lost her volleyball game the next morning. On Sunday, as usual, she stood at the door to the church with her father. The Taylors had returned for a second visit.

"Glad to have you give us another chance," Reverend Hayes said as he shook Mr. Taylor's hand.

"The sermon at First Baptist was too emotional," Mr. Taylor said, "and that Church of Christ didn't even have a choir or any musical instruments at all. The non-denominational church didn't have pews. We had to sit on folding chairs."

"What he means, Reverend," Eric's mother said pleasantly, "is that we appreciated your sermon the first time we were here. It was very insightful, and it drew us back."

Tami's father smiled. He loved to hear his sermons complimented, and it didn't happen often.

"Did you see Eric in the game on Friday, Reverend?" Mr. Taylor asked. "He did that trick play just the way we reviewed it."

Tami knew her father had not been at the game, and that was why he said, merely, "Congratulations, Eric."

"Thank you, sir," Eric replied. "Reverend. Sir."

"Well, I wouldn't congratulate him just yet," Mr. Taylor insisted. "They've had one loss already this season." He patted his son's shoulder. "If Eric would just put in a little more effort, then he could take this team all the way to State. If he would just spend a little less time hanging out with the guys. Right, son?"

"Well, darling, you know," Mrs. Taylor said, "how important it to build comradery on a team. And Eric really doesn't go out very often."

"He needs to learn to prioritize, Janet. Eric should be building a successful game plan to take this team all the way to State. Shouldn't you, son?"

"I'll try," Eric said.

Mr. Taylor sighed. "Eric, if I hear you use the word try one more time…"

Mrs. Taylor tugged on her husband's hand, and he grudgingly followed her out the door. Eric turned to follow them, but Reverend Hayes called his name. He paused and faced the pastor.

The Reverend looked him in the eye and said, "Young man, don't listen to that. Character is in the trying."