I trace my finger around his large frame. Out of all the girls he could have chosen, he waited for me. He’d said I was special. He treated me like I mattered. He cared about me. He…loved me. And I threw that back in his face.
I did it to protect him. I believed at the time, and still do, that staying as far away from him as possible until Jack completes this semester successfully—without my help—is the best course of action. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt like the motherfucking devil.
I hug my arms to my sides. My skin feels clammy and goose pimples dot every exposed surface. Idly, I wonder if I’m in shock. I could use that Xanax cocktail right now.
34
Knox
Week 10: Warriors 7-1
Looking at myself in the mirror had never been a problem before. I had pretty simple goals—play hard enough to win games and influence scouts. I cared about my family and my team, and we were almost always on the same page.
This morning, I have a hard time meeting my own gaze in the bathroom mirror.
I don’t like what I see.
It’s not just the sour taste of losing, but the way I had lost. I should have cleared this thing with Ellie before the game. It’s my own damn guilt weighing on my head.
I splash cold water on my face as the door to my apartment opens and closes.
It’s not Ty. I drove him to the airport at four in the morning so he could make his six o’clock flight. “It’s only one loss,” Ty told me before he exited the car.
“It was a bad loss to a bad team.” I replied curtly.
“Then you need to dominate in your last four games. Don’t let all this other bullshit affect you.” He gave me a hard squeeze.
Easy to say; less easy to do. But Ty’s right. I have to put this game behind me. One thing that separates the greats from the wannabes is the ability to shake off a loss. To forget how bad you played and show up in the next game like you’re the motherfucking champion.
I waited twenty-one years to have sex because I had this ideal in my head, but I’d waited as long for a title. Ty and I had never won one in high school. Ironically, our high school team suffered much of the same problems the Warriors had—a weak offense. Ty chose to go to a school that featured a premiere quarterback. I came to Western. Ty’s fancy pants quarterback suffered a career ending injury last year, and his chances for a title went out the window.
This year looked like my year. Ace threw the ball well enough to provide a decent cushion on the scoreboard. The defense clicked like one machine with one brain and one heart.
And Ellie showed up. Long legs, hot body, loved football, sarcastic sense of humor, and fucking knew the difference between my brother and me in every picture I showed her.
It was my year…until it wasn’t. And the minute things didn’t go my way, I folded like a cheap lawn chair.
I don’t like that. I’ve got to make things right with my team and with Ellie. She’s scared about something. Last night I replayed every conversation I had with her and the one we’d had right before the dinner with Ty struck me as weird. All that talk about affecting my draft status? It didn’t add up for me.
I wipe a hand down my jaw and go out to see what the commotion is.
I find Matty in the kitchen. “Who was that at the door?”
“Jack,” he says. “He brought this over.”
He tosses my away jersey over the back of a chair. So that’s how it’ll be? She doesn’t even want to talk to me?
I don’t like that. Not a bit. I stomp back into the bedroom and pull the phone away from the charging cord. I pull up Ellie’s number and stab the call button.
A mechanical voice answers telling me Ellie’s number has been disconnected. I check the number and dial again, like the recording instructs. Same thing.
Disconnected.
The hell? She sends Jack over with my jersey. Disconnects her phone so I can’t fucking call her?
I squeeze the phone tightly in my hand.
“Why don’t you let me take the jersey to the trainers? I’ll get it cleaned up before the game next week,” Matty offers.
“Good idea, bro,” I pick up the jersey and almost throw it to Matty until I catch a whiff of it. It smells like Ellie. Smells like citrus and girl, and fuck if my fist doesn’t clench around the material and refuse to let go. “On second thought, I’ll send it over with the rest of my shit tomorrow.”
I have no idea if that’s a lie. I just know that right now I’m not ready to get rid of it.
Matty’s eyes show a measure of concern that I’ll need to address. I force my fingers to loosen around the polyester and toss it over the back of the sofa.
Apparently I’m not ready to eliminate Ellie from my life even though it’s easy for her to erase me from hers. What I can do is go about repairing my relationship with my team—starting with Matty.