It was the only way I knew how to be. The only way I could stay at my level. I knew other players that could juggle having a social life and a professional career playing football at the highest level, but I had never been one of them. I needed focus and determination, and that meant no more clubs like this.
My teammates had organized a thing like this a couple nights earlier, to celebrate the end of training camp and the final roster cuts. To me, that never felt like something worth celebrating - it was only the first, small step in a much longer journey toward the only goal that mattered: a championship ring.
Ever since I was a kid, watching football on TV with my dad every fall, talking about plays and which teams would do well, a championship win had been all I ever wanted. The thought of getting one was what kept me in the gym and the practice field those long mornings, afternoons, and nights, in high school and college, and what had gotten me this far.
I had politely declined the night out with my teammates. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy hanging out with them; I loved them like the brothers I had never had. It’s just that I tried to keep the two parts of my life separate. There was football me, and offseason me. Tonight was the last night for offseason me, then I’d get to work with my brothers on bringing home a championship; that was football me.
I stood off to the side while my buddies caroused, meeting girls and trying to talk to them over the loud music. I had a drink in my hand, but I was already into my season-long regimen of no alcohol - this was just ginger ale, no ice.
“Hey,” a voice called out off to my right while I was looking left at the light show as the lasers pulsed in time to the beat, bathing the people around them in bright greens and blues, beacons in the dark club.
I turned to the right and came face to face with a blonde girl on full display. She was dressed to kill, and looked like she knew that for a fact. Bold red, tiny little dress, pushing her tits up and out, barely covering her nipples, dress ending just below her ass. If she so much as leaned over, she’d be showing the ladies to the front and the junk to the back.
“Hey yourself.” I didn’t smile, but instead sighed to myself. A guy couldn’t even get a night to himself in a busy club around here.
I was about to turn around, thinking the conversation was over, but she lifted a pale hand to my face and held me there, her fingers brushing seductively across my jaw. “Like what you see?”
I guess I had to be polite, in case she figured out who I was. I wasn’t exactly a household name around here yet, but if this season went well I certainly would be. You didn’t want to give any of the locals a reason to hate you, even if you had a good one. “Yeah, not bad.”
She looked mildly offended, like I was somehow responsible for all the time and effort and money she put in to look this good on a night out at the club. “Not bad?” She came in closer, a gleam in her eye. “Wanna see more?”
Now that was too much for me. Far be it from me to come down on a girl for wanting what she wanted, but if she was just gonna throw herself at me like that, I wasn’t nearly as interested as I had been even 30 seconds ago, which already wasn’t much.
“Maybe some other time.”
“Why, you got an early day tomorrow?”
I smiled at her for the first time. “In fact, I do.” That wasn’t even a lie, my first press conference was at 9am, and I liked to get up early when I had to talk to the media. I wasn’t scared of it or anything, but talking to them was rarely any fun, and I didn’t like to start my day off with something like that. A workout was much better.
She leaned in and I let her talk directly into my ear. “I could make it worth your while.”
“I’m sure you could, and there’s no doubt I believe you, but not tonight.”
She leaned back, again offended, but this time for real. She looked me up and down like she was re-evaluating coming up to me in the first place. “Fine. Your loss.”
I raised my drink to her as she walked away, showing off that barely-contained ass. I took a sip. “My loss, indeed.”
I couldn’t put my finger on why I sent her away, but for some reason this girl, as ready to go as she was, just didn’t do it for me. It wasn’t that I had suddenly become some prude - in the offseason I partied and slept around as much as any guy who played professional football could. I looked over at my buddies; they were clearly having a blast, and it lifted my spirits to see them having fun.
I was different, though. I had a lot riding on my shoulders, especially this year. We had just barely missed the playoffs last year, my first as the starter. I was playing out the last year of a tiny contract, the kind of contract you get if you were just barely drafted.
The team could get rid of me easily, and no one would remember my name 6 months from now. I couldn’t have that. This was the year, the season, I had to put myself on the map.
And that didn’t really involve a girl, because who had time for that, when you were the quarterback of a professional football team? I didn’t know how other guys did it.