Page 11 of Tangled Up In You
She’d been pissed, of course, and had left in a huff.
The next day, I’d found out she’d told all of her friends that ‘the star quarterback couldn’t get it up’ and it’d spread through the campus like wildfire. I knew it was my chance to publically come out, but I’d chickened out. As an athlete, it was fucking scary to come out, because of the stigma that still surrounded it.
So, I continued hiding who I was.
With all of that aside, though, life was great. I began thinking of Hunter less and less, until he was nothing more than an occasional passing thought.
However, in the moments when I was between awake and asleep, I’d sometimes recall the way he felt lying beside me at night. I’d remember the sound of his voice as he recited some Shakespeare line, and then how we’d bicker about what defined a romance.
And it was in those moments when I was the most content.
Chapter 4
Corbin
Present Day- December
I lived for this—the adrenaline of a packed stadium, the indistinct cheers from the stands, and the feel of the turf beneath my sneakers. The road getting there had been winding, painful, and often filled with self-doubt, but I’d made it all the way to pro level football.
And every damn second had been worth the journey.
Seven years since I’d left Willow, Arkansas. Three years since I’d graduated from University of Southern California with a bachelor’s degree in Business Organization—a degree I’d probably never use but it was great to have something to fall back on. I had kicked ass in college level football, and while I hadn’t started out as a first string quarterback, I’d proven myself enough by my sophomore year to do so.
None of it had been luck, either.
Every single day I worked my ass off. I trained every chance I could, working on my jumping, running, and direction-changing. I worked on strength and speed exercises. Anything to put me ahead of the others. While I’d given into the temptation of frat parties a few times, I never let that kind of lifestyle consume me or get in the way of what I wanted.
After college, I registered for the Regional Starting Combines—where I’d tried out with other college players, performing drills and other exercises that showcased our abilities. The National Combine followed that, where less than four hundred players were invited and I’d been among them.
Then there was the draft. Out of thousands of college players who had dreams of going pro, I snagged one of the highly sought after spots.
Now, I was the starting quarterback for the Kansas City Raptors and had been for the past three years. Within that time, I’d had various injuries, but I’d never let any of them keep me off the field for long. Some of the veteran players on the team had started calling meLittle Enginewhen I first started because of how much I got hurt, but always got right back up and stayed in the game.
That December day, we were playing Denver, and in the third quarter, we were ahead seventeen to ten. The below freezing temperature made standing in place miserable, so I bounced in place as I waited to go back out on the field. If it wasn’t for my adrenaline, I might’ve felt the cold more, but I was too pumped.
I looked around the stadium, smiling at the sea of faceless people. In the mix of red jerseys and orange ones, people cheered for their team. Some were cheering for us and some against us, but the one thing they all shared was their love for football.
It’s what connected all of us, viewers and players alike.
“Raptors are ahead seventeen to ten in the third quarter, but the game isn’t over yet.”
I tuned out the commentators as my team took the field. Noise surrounded me—the muffled voices over the intercom, the screaming of the fans in the stands, and the sly insults from the opposing team as we took our spots—but I blocked them out as I ran through the play in my head.
In position, I called the play before the center snapped the ball. Bodies slammed against each other as the other team came for me, and my defense blocked them. I passed a short middle to Wilson and he made it fourteen yards before being stopped.
The game was close.
Denver scored before the end of the third quarter, evening out the scoreboard. It was the last game of the season, and I refused for us to take a loss. I hadn’t played with back and neck ailments the past month, pushed myself harder than any other season, and taken shit from the guy I was dating because I’d been too sore to fuck him recently just to lose the last game.
During the next play, I threw the ball to the wide receiver.
Fuck!
My pass had been intercepted by the other team’s safety, but before he got too far with the ball, the ref threw down a flag. We stopped the play as we waited for the ref to announce who the penalty was for. It was an illegal block above the waist against Denver, and a ten yard penalty was enforced.
But they had the ball now.
The other quarterback passed to his wide receiver and they moved twenty-two yards before being tackled. I was getting pissed now, and I bounced in place as I waited for our chance to get back in the game. At the 4thand 7, their quarterback was sacked before making any ground.
