Now I don’t feel worthy of playing alongside these men. It’s the worst fucking feeling in the world.
“Please,” Beck snorts. “Baker is a bonehead. Don’t listen to a word that comes out of his yap.”
That might be true, but I have a hunch that he’s spot-on about the lube. Coach isn’t going to put up with stupid mistakes on his field. I’m scared shitless that he’ll pull me. If Coach doesn’t believe in me—a man I’ve played for my entire college career—how can I believe in myself?
“Look, man,” Beck continues, interrupting those depressing thoughts, “we all have off days. Don’t stress about it.”
I think that by now, we both realize this is more than just an off day. It’s a string of unfortunate events.
“Easier said than done,” I mumble.
With nothing else to say, we silently strip off the rest of our gear before hitting the showers. Now that Coach has cloistered himself in his office, the locker room once again turns rowdy. Everyone has caught their second wind. Guys are talking about all the parties happening off-campus this weekend. The team has been at Wesley, practicing twice a day since the beginning of July. We’ve spent hundreds of hours running through plays on the field, lifting in the gym, scrimmaging, and watching game film. With the start of school next week, this is the final hoorah. Everyone wants to cut loose and party their asses off before we have to buckle down for the season.
Once Beck hits the showers, I slump onto the bench with a huff and stare pensively at my hands. I want to get this ass-chewing over with and move on with my life. Best case scenario, this will be a pep talk. Worst case, Kwiatkowski is moving up in the world. A cold sweat breaks out across my brow at the possibility. A couple of guys have already come and gone from the enclosed space and yet, I remain paralyzed on the bench.
“Get a move on it, bro,” Beck prods, returning with a towel slung around his waist. “I got shit to take care of.”
“Go on without me,” I mutter. “I have a feeling this is gonna take a while.”
Beck pulls on a pair of boxers and athletic shorts before shoving his feet into slides. “Does this have anything to do with Alyssa?”
“Fuck if I know.” I drag a hand over my face, not wanting to admit my suspicions.
There’s a long pause before he says, “You could always try talking to her.”
Ha!
The only problem with that bit of advice is that I actually value my life and am not looking to end it prematurely.
“Yeah, I don’t know about that. It didn’t go so well the first time.” For fuck’s sake, he was there. He witnessed the shitshow that ensued when I tried to make nice. At one point, I’d actually thought she might inflict bodily harm. “That girl could give Coach a run for his money in the ass reaming department.”
One side of Beck’s mouth quirks with humor.
“You heard Alyssa,” I add, just in case he’s a little slow on the uptake. “She wants nothing to do with me. In fact, she’d rather I not breathe the same air as her.” I shake my head, chuckling grimly under my breath. “If Lys had her way, she’d rather I didn’t breathe at all.”
It’s funny, I can’t remember a time when Alyssa wasn’t chasing after me. Throughout high school and then college. I’m sure I sound like a giant dick, but there was something comforting about the knowledge that she would always be there, waiting in the wings.
And now?
Now she wants nothing to do with me. If it were possible for her to smote me on the spot, she’d do it in a heartbeat, without a single thought or care. Then she’d step over my cold dead body on her way out the door.
Beck interrupts the whirl of those thoughts. “Can you blame the girl?”
He knows how everything went down between us sophomore year.
Maybe sending a text message to break up with her wasn’t the smartest idea. Actually, there’s no maybe about it. Alyssa had confessed her love, and I freaked out and cut her loose. At the very least, I should have sat her down and had an adult conversation. Instead, I’d taken the easy way out, and it backfired in my face.
I focus on my clasped hands instead of meeting his curious stare. “Not at all.” Only now, as the uncomfortable silence settles around us, do I realize the locker room has thinned out. Most of these guys are ready to get their weekend started. This is the last place they want to hang out.
Even though I don’t want to give voice to the words, I’m powerless to stop them from escaping. “You going to Alyssa’s party?”