Mason and I used to own these roads. We were so stupid when we were younger. Always driving too fast or drinking, not to mention the many games of mailbox baseball. Hell, I used to make-out with my girl while driving, letting her straddle me just so I could feel her against me before dropping her off at home.
Hot summer nights spent in the back of my truck looking at the stars, holding her between my legs with my arms wrapped around her. I told her I’d love her forever. I said I love you first and promised to never let her go.
I pull up short and pull over into a parking lot. I need to calm down. Driving like an idiot doesn’t solve anything. The last thing I want is my name in the paper because I was being reckless. I’ve worked hard to keep my image clean. No more mistakes for me.
When I look up I see that I’m at the Allenville Museum, a place dedicated to high school sports. I get off my bike and walk in, paying the five dollar admission. Inside it’s like a shrine. I’m hanging from the ceiling with my record breaking stats displayed under my picture. There’s a picture of Mason and I together. We were supposed to break records at the University of Texas but he wanted to stay close to Katelyn and opted to go to the state school with her. He was the smart one.
A large picture of Mason is front and center in the museum with a black cloth draped over the edges. There is a table next to his picture with more photographs from high school, with a few of him and me and some of the other guys. We’re all so young in our football uniforms, holding up our index finger telling the world that we’re number one. We didn’t have a care in the world, we just wanted to win. One of our championship footballs sits on a stand. I want to touch it, feel the pigskin against my fingers, but I refrain. Those days are gone. I left them all behind when I packed up and left Texas for the bright lights of the big city.
“Do you hear that crowd?” Mason yells at me before we leave the tunnel. This is our last game ever in high school and this year we’ve gone undefeated. We annihilated the competition. Mason is so close to breaking the state record for rushing yards and I broke the record for passing earlier this season. We both signed our letters of intent for the University of Texas this morning.
And now we’re about to play for our fourth state title.
“Yeah man, I hear it. Crazy, right?”
“There has to be more people than last year.”
Of course there is. We are the best.
I slap my girl’s ass as she passes by with her white, gold and red cheerleading skirt flipping up as she runs. She turns around and saunters up to me with that look in her eye. I know what she’s expecting and I plan to deliver.
“You know how sexy I think you are when you bite your lip? You have this look in your eyes, Liam. Do you have plans for us later?” she whispers into my ear. My focus is now solely on her instead of the game as her hand sneaks under my t-shirt. There is nothing better than her skin against mine.
“Knock it off you two,” Mason says as he slaps me in the back of the head. “If you give him a stiffy during the game, some linebacker is going to break his pecker.”
We all start laughing. She kisses me goodbye, telling me to kick ass. She never wishes me good luck, just to kick ass.
I slip on my helmet and run out onto the field. We run through the cheerleaders and the student body. Music is blaring as we are announced onto the field. Parents and fans are on their feet in the stands, yelling loudly.
Mason and I go off to the side and warm-up, always together. We have a routine and we aren’t about to break it now.
When the whistle blows, I take center with Mason on my left. The play is for him. He needs only one hundred yards to break the state record for rushing and I’m going to make sure that happens tonight. Our first play is a hand-off to him; he breaks the first tackle for a thirty yard gain.
We do this over and over until his dad holds up a sign showing 100 and I know. I hand Mason the ball and watch him jog it over to his dad. They hug and the fans go nuts. Mason Powell just set the state’s all-time leading rushing record with nine thousand five hundred and two.
I remember that game as if it was yesterday and standing here makes it feel like it was. I can almost smell the concession stand cooking hotdogs and popcorn. I can hear the cheers and feel the vibration from stomping feet on the bleachers.
I can still see Mr. Powell’s face when Mason broke that record. I wanted my dad to look at me like that.
As I walk around I see us everywhere. The four state titles we won in football and two in baseball. Nick Ashford is staring back at me, his smug smile as he holds his most valuable player award. He wanted to be me. When he came to Beaumont he followed me around. He was always hanging out with us like he was our life-long friend, when all he wanted was my girl.