Page 1 of The Midseason Fakeout

1

AIDAN

Even with my eyes closed,my traitorous brain keeps showing me the game clock count down to zero in the fourth quarter. Watching it is a slow, painful death because I know what’s going to happen. And when it does, I still reel from the hollow ache in my heart. The despair that grips me in places I didn’t even know could feel at all.

The worst part about the loss? My ass hurt from riding the bench. I wasn’t sweaty. I wasn’t even wearing the Bulldog-blue uniform. I couldn’t help save anything.

An overwhelming pang of disappointment rings through me again when the memory of the buzzer sounds in my head like a morbid knell.

Our first L of the season. Our first L at homeallyear.

I was wrong about the worst part, though. What hurt more was seeing the dejected faces of my team as they jogged off the field. Most wouldn’t even look at me. Some did, and judging by the accusing glares they sent my way, not looking at me would’ve been better. For me, at least.

It was West who broke the mold and walked up to me, gave me a short nod and knuckles. Sweat poured down his face. Hair plastered to his forehead like he’d been in a war, but even The Hulk couldn’t pull this one out.

“Do you see now?” His earlier words reverberate through me while I sit at my usual booth at the diner, my leg jumping up and down. I’d called for an emergency offensive meeting at Richie’s, but none of the guys are here yet. I don’t even know if they’ll show, but that’s old insecurities talking. Hopefully.

The waitress at the counter peers over at me, and I quickly look away, reminding myself that all the guys had to hit the showers after the game. That’s why I’m still sitting alone. Everything’s fine. Everything’s good.

They’ll be here.

I drag my fingers through my hair. The last few months have been a whirlwind. I was too far into it until there I was, a girl on each arm, beers dangling from both fingertips. Everyone wanted a piece of QB1, and I gave it to them like forfeiting pieces of my soul. Gave so much of myself away, I didn’t have any parts left for football.

Asking myself for the hundredth time how I got so off track isn’t going to help. That’s not the issue now. It’s getting back on track before Coach Thompson kicks me from the team permanently, and I have to go home a failure, a feeling I know all too well.

My stomach tightens as I have to bat away thought after thought.

Football is the only reason you’re lovable, and you’ve failed at that.

You’re discardable.

Trash.

They’re not going to respect you now. They’re going to drop you.

The bell above the door rings, and my head snaps around to see West and Kenna walk in. I breathe out a sigh of relief as he gives her a kiss on the forehead, and she strides toward a booth in the corner. My roommate blocks most of my view until he slides into the booth across from me. “Well, that was—”

“Fucking horrible?” My fingertips buzz with restrained energy as I peer behind me to see if anyone else is coming. I can’t even begin to describe how shitty it felt to ride the bench while my team was struggling. West eyes me, and I snap my mouth shut. “I mean it was horrible for me. You guys did everything you could. Everything,” I assure him.

“TT’s too young. Inexperienced. He was scared more than anything.”

My fingers clench and unclench. The backup QB did look a little pale, but I’d been too busy glaring at him all night to really notice. He was in my spot, even though the fault was totally mine. “I fucked up,” I say, more to myself than to West. Misguided anger doesn’t do me any good. TT stepped into my shoes when I wasn’t good enough. I shouldn’t be pissed at him. I should be thanking him.

“Well, I guess you know now that showing up late to practice and acting like a pompous ass will get you benched.”

I drop my head low. QB1 at Warner University holds celebrity status on and off campus. Anything I want, I can get. I didn’t understand that when I was backup for Reid Parker because he was a good dude. He didn’t party. He didn’t sleep around. He had his girlfriend, his close friends, and that was it. His goals were in play all the time. He never lost sight.

Mine got buried in a fog of alcohol, women’s perfume, and the toxic magnetism of being the “it” guy.

As stupid as it sounds, everyone wanted me at their event. All the sororities, all the fraternities, local galas. They took pride in knowing I showed up.

They all wanted me, and when you grew up the way I did, it was a siren’s call I couldn’t turn down.

“Hey,” West’s even-keeled voice says, tugging me out of my thoughts. “What’s done is done. You can turn this around.”

I wish I was that confident. “Coach is pissed.” I think I can still feel the spittle on my cheek from when he chewed me out, ending in him telling me I was sitting today’s game out while I stood in horror, sure I was on some other planet.I thought I was everyone’s favorite person right now.

West chuckles, and I glance at him. He’s a changed man since Kenna. He talks more. He seems looser, more carefree. To think he overcame everything with the bad press and his dad…

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