Page 7 of Replay

Coach leans back, pushing his chair away from the table. “Hell, our best defensive backs can’t keep up with him. As long as he stays healthy, Wynn has a big future.” Standing, he walks around to me and pats my good shoulder. “As do you, Nate. I know it’s been a rough year, but I’m serious. I see a different fire in your eyes.”

I try to focus on his compliment as I say my goodbyes, but the mention of our DBs takes me back to one in particular. The one who has avoided me like the plague since my arrival, even though I’ve known him since I was twelve years old. The same one I’ve seen post pictures with Berkley more and more over the past two years, but mainly with others in them and never with a label. I’ve suspected and stayed up late at night, spinning stories in my head about if they’re dating, but he chose today to breakthe silence, and it took everything in me not to break my fist across his face.

She’s mine now… Stay away from her, Outlaw. She’s in my bed every night, saying my name. And she’ll be in the stands wearing my number next Saturday.

When I let the anger settle and allowed his words to play on repeat, I was somewhere between crying and puking. It’s my own fucking fault…. Or maybe it’stheirfucking fault, but either way, I chose to walk away.

The locker room is mostly cleared out when I finish up with Coach, but I notice Graham, my best friend and one of the top tight ends in college football, sitting on the bench near my locker.

I nod at him, urging myself to let the animosity go before I speak. “You didn’t have to wait on me. I’m going in with the trainers to ice my shoulder anyway.”

He stands up and slings his bag onto his shoulder as I’m opening my locker. “I just wanted to check on you. You seemed off at the end of practice.”

I wait for a moment to answer. I know it’s not Graham’s fault, but I feel unreasonably pissed at him. My emotions get the best of me as I slam my locker shut and meet his gaze. “Is she with him?”

“Wha… Where did that come from?”

“Just fucking tell me… Is she with Graves?”I force out the last part, not even wanting to speak it into existence.

“Look, Nate…”

“No, don’t sugarcoat it. Tell me.” I level him with a demanding look I’ve never given him before.

He holds up his hands, shaking his head. “Whoa, whoa, boss…don’t come at me like that. You are the one who broke up with her, remember?”

I fucking knew it.The side of my fist hits the cold metal of the locker, and my head falls against it with a shaky huff.

“Fuck, man,” Graham hisses out. “I’m sorry, Nate, but she’s my friend too and, honestly, I didn’t know if you’d care.”

The tiredness of practice and the anguish I feel over being so close but so far from her finally take over my body. I sit down on the bench, eventually lifting my head to see how concerned he is. “Of course, I still care. Why do you think I always ask you about her? No matter how hard I’ve tried to move on…I still care. I always will.”

At that, his concern seems to melt away, and he shakes his head in frustration. “I just don’t get this shit, dude. If you are still so fucked up over her, why did you end it? Especially how you did.”

I pull the strands of my sweaty hair, whispering, “You don’t get it. It’s not that simple.”

The door to the locker room opens and our roommate, Nola’s, eyebrows pinch together as he takes in our tense body language. “Y’all good?”

“Yeah,” I say as I pick up my stuff.

“The trainers were looking for you, so I told them I’d come find you before they wrap me up.” He pauses for a beat and smirks. “But I got dibs on blondie’s table.”

I roll my eyes at him and chuckle, not wanting my other teammates to know the shit going on in my head. “I’m coming.”

“I’ll see you both back at the house. I think the twins got back while we were at practice,” Graham says, but grabs my arm before I walk away. “We good?”

“Yeah, it's not your fault. See you at the house.” I lift my fist, and he taps it with his, watching me suspiciously as we both head our separate ways out of the locker room.

Graham Leblanc has been my friend since I made the varsity football team in the seventh grade. He was captain of the middle school team that year and took me under his wing. That bond grew when I joined him in high school two years later, and again, he immediately pulled me into his fold. That’s Graham; if you are his people, he always looks out for you. Which is why I was thankful Berkley had him here at Mountain Ridge these past two years.

I follow behind Nola into the trainer room. “How’s your ankle feeling?” I ask him.

He smiles, nodding. “Solid. Like those passes you keep throwing me.”

I smirk. “I was just talking to Coach about how well that’s working.” Nola and I have only been practicing together for a couple months, but our chemistry on the field is unreal.

“Ice that shoulder up so we can get home. I’m cooking breakfast for dinner tonight,” he says as he winks at the athletic trainer and hops onto her table.

Brody Wynn, otherwise known as Nola, was born and raised in New Orleans and is the epitome of “rizz” in the urban dictionary.Even as a sophomore, he has already made a name with the ladies on campus. He’s also the best wide receiver I’ve ever played with, and he’s a hell of a cook in the kitchen.