Page 11 of Love at Second Down

“So, let’s get this straight,” Chris drawls. “Your ex, who sounds like she could win an award for world’s biggest bitch, heir to one of the richest men in the country, is back at the exact same time you’re competing for the College Football Playoff National Championship. And to make matters worse, she’s in one of your classes, which means seeing her several times a week, which probably makes you want to carve your heart from your chest.”

“Pretty much.” I nod.

“Shit.”

“Why not just switch classes?” Brandon asks.

“Gee. Why didn’t I think of that?” I roll my eyes. “I can’t. Trust me, I went straight to my adviser the second I left class and tried, but to switch would really eff with my schedule and interfere with football.”

“Maybe you should just talk to her?” West shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Rip the Band-Aid off, get it over with. Maybe it will even give you closure.”

“Yes!” Chris motions toward West. “He’s quiet, but when he comes in with the advice, it’s solid. Not a bad idea, bro.”

Not a chance in hell.

“I heard all she had to say the last time we spoke,” I bite out. “Call me bitter, but I’m not interested in whatever insight she might’ve gleaned over the last couple years.”

“Then you’re out of options.” Jace shrugs. “Get through the semester, and then you only have one more year. With a campus so large, chances are you won’t see her again, especially if you’re not the same major.”

Last we spoke, Avery planned on majoring in business with the intention of working for her father. It’s unlikely that’s changed, considering she always seems to do whatever pleases them. So, Jace is right. The odds of having another class with her in a campus with a large student population are slim. All I have to do is get through two classes a week, find a different chair to sit in, and it should be good. I should be fine.

But I’ll know she’s here, and it’ll be all I can fucking think about.

It’s like winding up a jack-in-the-box and waiting for the sadistic little fucker to pop.

“Right,” I say with a sigh. “I’m sure you’re right,” I say, wishing I believed it.

“What you absolutely, positively, cannot do is let this affect your game,” Chris chimes in.

“I know.” I fist my hands at my sides, thinking about the next few weeks and how crucial they are.

“Yeah, we need you, man.” Brandon slaps me on the back, and I grit my teeth.

“Just . . . push her out of your mind until after the championship,” Jace adds unhelpfully. “Focus on the game and nothing else.”

Right. Like it’s that easy.

“You can do this,” West pipes in. “We believe in you.”

I nod, silent with the heavy weight of our team’s fate resting squarely on my shoulders. If I fail, I let everyone down. Not just myself, but my teammates, too?my brothers on the field, my friends, my coach, every Griffin fan who has been dying for a CFP win for the last thirty fucking years, even my father who sacrificed for the sport I love.

And yet, when I think about all that’s riding on this weekend’s game, when I try to picture myself on the field, leading our team to victory, all I can see is her.

Chapter 4

DAMON

After morning conditioning where I half-assed everything because my mind had been too preoccupied with a particular blonde for the second day in a row, I shower and change, parting ways with my teammates to make the familiar trek from campus to Java the Hutt for my morning coffee. I’m hoping the caffeine might do something to ease the pounding headache blooming in the front of my skull.

With my duffle slung over my shoulder, I slide my hands into the pockets of my jeans and tuck in my chin, shielding my face from the worst of the whipping wind. December was brutal, but January is proving to be even worse, and I have no idea what’s in store for February. I don’t mind the cold much, which is why Michigan suits me. I have no idea where I’ll end up after next year, but if all goes according to plan, I’ll be playing in the NFL,preferably somewhere in the northeast, preferring the cold to the heat.

My feet crunch over the grass, leaving imprints in the snow while my thoughts wander to my conversation with the guys yesterday afternoon. The pressure of the weight on my shoulders and in my chest hasn’t waned. A lot is riding on these next two weeks?on me. Football has been my goal for as long as I can remember. From bobbling foam Nerf Balls in the backyard with my father as a kid, to running my first play-action pass on the field at fifteen. It’s been the great love of my life, only second to one other?Avery.

Little did I know she’d change the rules at the last minute, and I’d lose the game.

At the very least, my heartbreak taught me something: Where love can be messy and unpredictable, football is steadfast and reliable. The rules don’t change in football. Everything is black and white. Win or lose, the result is the cumulation of your efforts on and off the field, and I refuse to lose this one. With the CFP championship game only three weeks away, everything I’ve worked so hard for is right at my fingertips. I’m one game away from a shot at the title, and I want it so bad I can taste it.

Everyone says I’ll get drafted, that it’s a no-brainer, but you never know. Sometimes the most talented players slip through the cracks. Victory over these next two weeks would help ensure I don’t, that I’m a part of the statistics of winners, and not the losers who crashed and burned on the field along with their dreams.

---