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"No, it's one of those current pools, do you know what I mean?" Brutus asked. "I have it installed on my deck, next to the whirlpool. The machinery creates a current that you can move against. Although I customized mine, it's got a motorless treadmill in it."

Linda laughed. "Perfect for you. High intensity, low impact cardio. Let me guess, you've got rowers and more in that home gym of yours?"

"And a big ol' heavy bag... for those days when you just want to let off some aggression," Brutus admitted with a chuckle. "But I didn't use that at all this week. But I did do something else that's new."

"What's that?"

"I signed up for an online education website," Brutus said, slightly shy about the revelation. "I just... look, I don't know if I said it before or if you looked it up, but I don't have my degree. Not that it means anything. You know what college was to me?"

"The minor leagues?" Linda asked him.

Brutus thumped a fist on the steering wheel of his car in agreement, grunting lightly.

"I've heard that before."

"Because it's sadly true." Brutus sighed. "For guys like me, college ball was nothing more than vocational education for football players. I barely even showed up for class."

"What about shows like Last Chance U? Don't those guys get hounded about going to class constantly?" Linda asked him.

Brutus guffawed.

"No?"

"Yes and no. Linda, those guys already burned bridges to end up where they did. Even then, they get chances after chances. Most teachers bend over backwards for players. It was the same for me, except my classroom buildings were a lot more expensive."

"So what was college like for you?" Linda asked.

Brutus hummed. "Not that different from last week. Early workouts, pretending to go to classes, and spending most of my day at the athletic complex. Looking back, I wasted opportunities I wish I had back. I did my three years, declared for the draft, and that was that."

"But you want to be more, don't you Brutus?" Linda asked.

"Yeah. And when you said you had your degree, it got me thinking.

Like I said, I'm not dumb. I do read up on things, a lot more than I did when I was a college student.

So I thought, what if I used my free time during this offseason to get back into the swing of things?

I'm not going to start hard, but take a few free audit classes, and who knows?

" he asked with a laugh. "Maybe I'll actually go and get my damn degree in something. "

"You can do it," Linda said quietly, assuredly. "I know you're not dumb. I've worked with dumb, Brutus. You're not. And if you'd like... I could help."

He glanced over, surprised. "Really? You'd help?"

"Hey, I just finished up my degree last year," Linda said.

"I hadn't planned on it at first of course, the stereotype is enlisted aren't college types.

But that's no longer true, the military's a lot different from the old movies.

Once you hit NCO, it makes career sense to get at least an associate's, and the military has lots of programs to help soldiers get their degrees while still in uniform.

So I... fuck, here I am talking about the Army again. "

"Well, tell me about what you studied then," Brutus said. "Let's see... you're too driven to take the easy way out and get a degree in Spanish Literature or something. You're a native speaker, right? I mean, being Puerto Rican?"

Linda laughed. "Piss me off enough and you'll see how much of a native speaker I am. I'll melt the ears off the side of your head."

For the rest of the drive, they talked about academics and mental exercises. Brutus was delighted to learn about Linda's degree in business management, and how two members of her fire team also had degrees.

"So you see, even during the season you could take a self-paced course," Linda said as she explained a way he could pace himself and not get overwhelmed, "sort of keep up the momentum.

And it'd give you a break from beating your head against football prep all the time.

Let you decompress even. I'll say, it was a great way for me to handle the stress of work, digging into macroeconomic theory and forcing me to put my brain somewhere else. "

"I think I will." Brutus made a final turn, spying the lit up sign ahead. "And here we are."

Brutus was glad to see the look on Linda's face as they pulled up to the convention center, bright spotlights swinging back and forth on the roof.

On the big display board it read One Night Only: Enrique Iglesias. "You remembered my comment!"

Brutus nodded. It was a throwaway, part of a bigger conversation the entire fire team was having during PT on Wednesday, but he remembered when Linda said that of all the Latin artists she'd listened to growing up, Enrique Iglesias was her favorite. "Yep. Now... check this out."

The pass in Brutus's dash got them private parking, and as they walked through the backstage entrance, Linda was giddy.

"I'm backstage at an Enrique Iglesias concert," she whispered, her hand still clutching the pass around her neck. "Mi familia no va a creer esto!"

"If they don't believe you," Brutus said, making Linda pause in surprise, "who cares? You got to do it. And maybe I can see if we can snag a pic with Enrique." Seeing her surprise, he grinned. "I'm not fluent, but I know what creer means."

"How'd you do this?" Linda asked, and Brutus shrugged. "The benefits of fame?"

"Yeah... but, I wish I could hear this from the crowd," he said.

"Fame opens some doors, but also keeps you from walking through others.

I've heard too many concerts half distorted from the backstage wings, or had to see a movie only via private showing or waiting until it came out on streaming services.

But my agent, Coach Pugh, the whole team would shit themselves if I took the risk of getting mobbed in a crowd at a concert.

Besides, it'd take away attention from the main act. Come on."

They found a spot in the wings off stage, far enough from the speakers that they weren't blasted to deaf while still giving them a great view of the stage. Brutus couldn't understand the lyrics to at least half the music, but Linda sang her heart out, cheering at the end of every song.

It didn't matter what the lyrics were though, because when the music slowed, and a slow ballad started, Brutus reached for her.

This time she came into his arms willingly, dancing along to the guitar and soft tones.

Again Brutus couldn't understand, but as he looked into the dark eyes of the woman in his grasp, he didn't need to.

The scent of her perfume mingled with the electricity of the concert atmosphere. Her eyes reflected the stage lights, shimmering with excitement and something more tender. The warmth of her body against his made his heart race faster than any football game ever had.

And when she put her arms around his neck, the words didn't matter. What mattered was Linda, and the smell of her skin, the gleam in her eyes... and the feeling of her lips pressing against his.

Because this time, there was no reluctance at all.