Page 5 of Fragile (Cedar Lakes University #2)

Chapter four

Miles

Long shadows cross the field as we line up for another play. This game’s intense, but we’re up by fifteen, so we’ve got this. My heart thrums in my chest, a relentless rhythm matching the pulse of the game.

A flurry of burgundy and white catches my eye, and I immediately smile, zoning in on Quinn and the rest of her cheerleading squad. With the other Dawson on my left, the buzz from the crowd growing more electric, there is nothing better than the clock counting down on another W with both of my best friends here by my side.

Seb’s eyes are focused, his stance determined. He gives me a quick nod, and I know exactly what he's thinking. It's go time. As the play begins to progress, I explode off the line of scrimmage, slicing through the defense like a knife through butter. My route is crisp, my cuts sharp, as I read the field and adjust on the fly. I don’t need to look back to know that Seb's pass is spiraling toward me, a perfect arc slicing through the air, and as I reach out, my fingertips tingle with anticipation, because I know he’s delivered for me.

The ball finds its mark, landing snugly in my hand as I turn up field, a burst of speed carrying me past faceless players. The noise of the crowd fades into the background, replaced by the pounding of my own blood in my ears.

Now, it's just me, the ball, and the end zone.

I race toward the goal line, and I can feel the weight of the defense closing in, their footsteps thundering behind me like the march of an approaching army. Gritting my teeth, I dig deep for that extra ounce of strength, that last burst of speed.

And then, in a heartbeat, it's over. I cross the threshold, the yells of chanting people explode around me as I raise the ball high in triumph. My teammates are there in an instant, with Hudson jumping and wrapping his legs around my waist, and Seb slapping me on the back, hands flying out to touch me as we celebrate together.

This high right here, being on the field, is a damn good feeling. Especially when plays like that happen.

The win is ours, our record unbeaten, just how my dad would like it. Last year, we might’ve taken that bowl trophy home, but it wasn’t a pretty game by any means. Well, that’s what my dad tells me, but a win is a win, right? Yet even that isn’t good enough for Mark Cooper. Nothing is, really.

The locker room is buzzing. Everyone pours in, grinning like crazy, slapping hands and shouting. The place smells like sweat and hard work, but no one cares. Music's blasting, and a couple of guys are already dancing in their jerseys. There’s this chaotic mix of laughter, cheers, and the clatter of cleats on the floor. Someone pops a water bottle, spraying it like its champagne.

“That pass was one for the books, QB. I think you need to insure that arm of yours already,” Hudson says, stripping out of his gear and throwing his jersey into the team wash hamper.

“Like Daddy Dawson hasn’t already got a policy drafted up,” I joke as I run a towel over the back of my neck.

Seb laughs and takes off his cleats. “He probably has already got something in place knowing him. But that was a team effort; there’s no way I carried us out there.”

“True, Miles ran like his ass was on fire.”

“Fuckin’ felt like it too.”

We all file into the showers. “Keep this up and we might be the only division one school to make it to the playoffs with no losses,” Hudson shouts from his cubicle.

“You did not just jinx us like that. We still have nine games left in the regular season!” Seb yells back.

That familiar niggle of fear worms its way into my stomach, my mind instantly going to the inner pocket of my gym bag, the pot of Tylenol where four white round tablets are hiding. Ones that helped my game tonight and others in the past. Four more games if I don’t double dose, that’s all I have until I’ll need more. The small voice inside my head tries to say I don’t need them, to forget about them, just do your best. But it’s drowned out by a louder one, one that suspiciously sounds like my dad, saying I’m not good enough without them. That voice always wins.

No one but me and Levi knows about the something extra, and no one will.

Ten minutes later, we’re walking out in our suits, a school policy I don’t hate because I look good in a suit. Seb immediately finds his girlfriend and scoops her into his arms as Hudson and I walk past them. Jay, our social media rep and photographer for the school sports teams, stands ahead, his signature thick-rimmed glasses on his face and camera hanging around his neck. Lifting it up, he snaps pictures of us all as we leave. Hudson plays it up for the camera—the guy doesn’t know how to be serious, I swear. My eyes roll, smiling as I pass Jay. “You coming to The Lakeside after you’ve taken your mugshots?”

He laughs, still snapping pictures as the rest of the players file out. “Yeah, man. I’ll meet you all there.”

Turning the final corner out of the locker room hallway, I see our coach and my dad just ahead. They’re speaking in hushed tones, their heads tilted close together, and dread lines my stomach instantly. It’s fine. Coach will, without a doubt, be happy with me, especially after that catch, but he can’t predict my dad’s temperamental moods.

Approaching them, I hold my breath, the high of winning wavering slightly. “Miles, you’re here. Good.” He gives one final nod to coach, and whatever conversation between them is done.

“Great game, Cooper. That catch was some of the best I’ve seen you do. Keep it up and you’ll take us to another championship.” Coach shoots me a genuine smile, and I feel the tension in my chest melt away. Pride swells inside me, and I can't help but smile back.

“Thanks, Coach.”

His hand lands on my shoulder with a squeeze before he walks back to his office.

“He’s right,” my dad says, which grabs my attention again. “Tonight was some of your best.”

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

“Don’t get lazy, though. We need you ready for San Jose next week. Don’t let me down, Miles.”

He strides away without another word, and I feel as though my feet are rooted in place. I got what I wanted; my dad didn’t make me feel like shit this time. He actually complimented me. It’s such a rare occurrence that I’m not even sure how to process it. Growing up, his approval always felt just out of reach, and I spent so many years longing for it. Now that I have it, there’s still an unmistakable weight lingering in my gut, like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. For him to turn around and berate me for something I didn’t do.

I wait until he rounds a corner out of sight before I let out a big exhale, tension easing from my body, but at the same time, there’s still the same vulnerability lingering beneath my skin. Would he be proud of me if he knew what was coursing through my body for the entire game tonight?

Another hand slaps on my shoulder, awakening me from my daze as I turn to meet Seb’s face. “Lakeside. Burgers are calling my name, let’s go.”

I hesitate, still a little stunned. “Yeah, I’m in.”

We walk together, some of the other guys joining us, as well as a few girls. Seb links his fingers with Indie’s. “Did your dad have much to say about that catch tonight?” Seb asks as the fresh evening air hits us.

“He said it was some of my best.”

He scoffs. “That was the best catch of your career. No one but you would’ve caught that curve.”

I laugh lightly. “He actually sounded…” I pause, still reeling. “Proud of me.”

Seb glances at me, no doubt to read my expression, which feels like it’s all over the place like my emotions. Isn’t his acceptance what I wanted? Why does it feel so foreign? Am I conditioned only to hear him pick at my faults all the time? Or is it guilt over what I’ve done again to gain his approval? Somewhere deep down I know I’ve been reckless, but as I walk with my friends, I realize I can be free tonight, without his shitty comments. And that feels…good.

No, it feels unbelievable.

“Miles, man, it’s about time he gave you some praise. That catch was epic.”

I hum in agreement as he steps ahead with Indie. He’s right. It is about time. I roll my shoulders, ignoring the doubt in my mind, and focus on that good feeling.

“Cooper, check this out!” Jay calls out, bounding up beside me, thrusting his camera into my face. The LED screen blurs because we’re moving, so I hold the camera with him, and we both stop to study the picture.

It takes me a couple of seconds to realize what I’m looking at. It’s me. The moment my hands connected with the ball on the field. The moment I felt like a freaking superhero because I caught it like I was always meant to. The stadium around me is dark, save for the glow of the lights above my head shining like a spotlight on me, drowning out everything else. Mud stains my pants and there’s blood smeared on my elbow as my fingers lace over the ball, my body twisted slightly and suspended at least a foot in the air. Fuck, that is a great picture. I nudge Jay’s shoulder with mine. “You killed that shot.”

Grinning, he swipes past a few others of me coming out of the catch, which are equally as impressive. “Nothing on me. That beauty was all you. You made my job easy tonight.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Actually, I was going to ask if I can use this for my portfolio for the internship this coming summer?”

“Yeah, go for it. As long as I can get a copy,” I tease. “What’s the internship for?”

We resume walking to catch up with the others again. “It’s a social media assistant for the state football team here in Oregon.”

“The Beavers?”

He nods. “I know it’s early to figure things out, but I’m staying local this summer, and figured I’d get a head start on applying for some jobs.”

“That’s awesome. Anything else I can do to help, let me know.”

Hudson rushes into the back of us, almost knocking us over. “What’s awesome? What did I miss?”

Jay brings up the camera again to show him the money shot of me. “Jay! That is sick. Did you get any of me?”

I laugh, because of course he’d ask that. “Feeling jealous, princess?”

“Of your ugly mug? Nah.”

I push him playfully, just as Quinn catches up to us with a smirk. “Do I need to separate you two again?”

“Hey, baby girl. How you doing?” Hudson beams, slinging his arm around her shoulders. She looks up at him with an easy smile. I bristle at the relaxed way he’s touching her and how she settles against his side.

“I’m exhausted from all that cheering. Every muscle hurts and my throat is sore,” she rasps, her delicate fingers reaching up to touch her neck.

“I have just the thing to make you feel better,” Hudson says suggestively, and I snort, because Seb will eat him alive if he hears him talking to his little sister that way.

“Huds! Are you looking to get beaten by your captain?” Jay laughs beside me.

“What? I was going to suggest a bath and a hot drink.” He sends Quinn a devilish wink before lowering his voice into a stage whisper. “I don’t know why they always think the worst of me.”

“No, of course, you’re an angel, Hudson.” She giggles.

He pulls her closer and kisses the side of her head, and something inside me twists at the sight. “You just get me, Quinn. Marry me already?”

My hand immediately sneaks into hers as I pull her away from him, and into my side instead, feeling instantly better that she’s close. “I’ve got more of a chance of marrying her. At least she likes me, and I happen to know the most about her.”

“I know she likes cheerleading.” Hudson puffs out his chest.

“Quinn June Ophelia Dawson also likes gummy worms,” I say pointedly, feeling territorial as I stare at Hudson. “Exclusively, the red and blue ones. She loves romantic comedies, her favorite color is pastel yellow, her favorite flowers are wildflowers, and she hates wearing flip-flops because when she was nine years old, she almost broke her toe tripping over in her new Havaiana flip-flops that she spent a month’s worth of chore money on and then donated them after that. And up until the age of six, she couldn’t say Caterpillars, she used to call them Callepitters.”

Feeling proud of myself for knowing so much about one of my best friends, I look down at her to catch a flush spreading right to the apples of her cheeks. Seb also takes that exact moment to turn around. “I forgot about Callepitters.” He laughs, but points a finger at me and Hudson, turning serious. “But no, neither of you are marrying her. She’s way too good for both of you.”

Hudson grumbles as he walks ahead. Quinn’s cheeks are still pink as I swipe some of her wayward red hair from her forehead.

“You okay?” I whisper into her ear.

Her spine stiffens, and I worry I’ve done something I shouldn’t have.

“Yeah, all good. You know, super hungry.” She smiles awkwardly and moves forward, out of my reach, grabbing Indie’s arm and tugging her along, forcing her brother to drop Indie’s hand. “We’re going to get a table.”

And I don’t even get to call after her before she’s striding toward the diner and pushing open the door, without another word or glance tossed my way.