“Oh?”
“No way, this is way better. No one wants to be a backup, we’re athletes, we want to fucking play. I got my shot like Lance got his last year, and I ain’t planning on giving the job back to him even if he’s 100%.”
“But Lance is the starter.”
“If I keep winning, that’ll change really quick.”
“Lance’s recovery seems to be back on track, he could be practicing in a couple weeks.”
Oliver sneered at me. “Lance is old news. The guy had a few good wins last year, but I’m gonna be the face of the franchise going forward.” He learned forward and got right in my face. “It’s nothing personal - just football. That’s how the game is played.”
“You seem pretty sure of yourself, Oliver.”
“You don’t get this far in the game without getting high on your own supply, Charlotte.”
“Right.”
Oliver looked me up and down. “Might be a good time for you to change teams.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, maybe you should be working with me full time instead of keeping that old guy upright a couple games longer.”
I laughed again. “Lance is 26, Oliver, he’s hardly old.”
“Yeah, but injuries like his have a way of coming back and haunting you for years. You should get on the winning side.” He puffed himself up. “You know, in the interest of your career and all.”
“My career is doing alright as it is, Oliver.”
“Alright, alright. There would be other perks too, you know.”
“Such as?” I stopped massaging him and folded my arms under my chest, waiting for his answer.
“Extra curricular activities of various kinds.”
“I-I think we’re done for this session, Oliver. You’re all set.”
Oliver jumped off the table and flexed, bending his legs at the knees and stretching his arms up, milling them from side to side. “Thanks for the help, Charlotte. I’ll be seeing you around here.”
“Yeah,” I said, as Oliver walked out of the room.
CHAPTER 13 - LANCE
I watched the Patriots beat the Cowboys from the sidelines. It felt amazing to be back out on the field and hear the crowd cheering their team on in person. It also twisted at my soul not to be playing, out there with my teammates.
All I could think about as I watched them crush the hated Cowboys was that it should have been me out there under center, taking the snaps, throwing Drake those touchdowns; it should have been me my brothers hoisted after the game and carried into the locker room, not Oliver Lee.
As soon as the game was over I went back to my room, still getting used to walking around on crutches, and got back on my bed. My knee was doing a lot better; I was able to flex it and walk around little bit as long as I didn’t place too much weight on it.
For a moment I thought back to a few days ago when Charlotte and I had done some improvisation in our attempt to have sex without aggravating my knee any further. We had been surprisingly successful and in the days since I had fantasized about those moments over and over again, reliving them as best I could.
It felt a little bit weird that Charlotte didn’t seem to want to talk about what had happened. I was conflicted myself, not sure what to say to her. The entire thing happened so fast, I don’t know what had come over me, why I needed her so badly right then.
I was just frustrated because I couldn’t play, because my fucking backup quarterback was starting to steal the spotlight that was rightfully mine. I stared down at my knee, anger suddenly welling back up, and I knew that I had to do whatever it took to get back on the field before Oliver took my job away from me forever.
I had just settled back down on the bed when the door opened. “Hey, Charlotte,” I called out, thinking it was her. She and I had actually started greeting each other again since we’d last had sex. It was a nice touch, I thought.
“Nah, man, no Charlotte this time. Starting QB in the house right here,” Oliver Lee’s familiar high pitched voice rang out. For a guy that looked like the prototypical professional quarterback, he sure sounded shrill and unappealing, like, all the time.
“Hey, Oliver, nice game just now. Congrats on your first win. I know it’s a big deal.”
“No sir, no big deal here, first win of many, Thank you for your congratulations, but they are not necessary.”
“Oh yeah? How’s that?”
“People don’t need to be congratulated for what they’re naturally good at, Lance! That’s what I do, win games!”
“And all those games you lost till today?”
Oliver waved them away. “Bumps on the road, my man, growing pains. All in the past - we’re in the present now! Come on, get happy again!” Oliver was smiling ear to ear, and had never looked more punchable than he did in that moment.