Page 14
DAMON
S team billows from the showers as quiet chatter filters through the sound of the running water.
I already took an ice bath, so I should temper the water as I wash off, but I crank the dial anyway and groan as it scalds away the ache in my muscles.
There’s not an inch of my body that doesn’t hurt, not one piece of me I didn’t push to the brink today.
I left everything on the field. Gave everything I had.
At halftime, I thought Coach was going to have an aneurysm as he ripped me to shreds. He told me to get my head out of my ass and into the game, and somehow, I managed to do just that. Somehow, I managed the impossible and got her out of my head. And thank fuck for that, because it paid off.
I can still hear the craggy sound of Coach’s voice as we entered the locker room postgame. “Hey, Huhn!” he barked. “You gonna make this a habit?”
I braced myself as I turned to his weather-beaten face, his eyes shining with pride. They looked so much like my father’s a lump formed in my throat as the guys gathered around me, waiting for our postgame debriefing, which apparently, started with me.
I froze, every muscle in my body tight. “Make what a habit, Coach?”
He strode toward me with the swagger of a man who’s seen it all but still loves being surprised. “Playing like crap, then pulling off a miracle,” he says with a grin.
The team erupted in laughter, and Coach clapped me on the shoulder. “Hell of a comeback, kid.”
Sighing, I turn off the water, ready to change and head back to the hotel since we have an early flight in the morning.
Grabbing my towel off the hook, I quickly dry off and wrap it around my waist before padding back into the locker room to change, surprised to find most of the team already back inside, and the locker room in a complete state of chaos.
Everyone is talking and laughing, coming down off their post-win high as they dress.
Talk of the National Championship buzzes around me, the excitement palpable as I head to my locker and pull out my clean clothes at the same time a booming voice cuts through the commotion.
I glance toward the sound, already recognizing Chris’s voice before I find him standing on the bench in the middle of the room, arms spread wide like an heir to the throne.
I shake my head, feeling the tug on the corner of my lips, but refusing to smile because I’m still pissed at him and the rest of my friends for the stunt they pulled on Friday night with Avery.
Still, he looks like a complete idiot standing there in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs with little red kiss marks all over them, a gift I’m pretty sure he received from Charlotte for Christmas.
“Yo, everybody, quiet down!” Chris shouts.
The room hushes, eager for whatever dipshit thing he’s about to say.
“Lend me your ears, oh victors!” Chris bellows, with a poor imitation of a British accent, gesturing dramatically like he’s a jester on a stage. “I give you the ballad of Doughty Damon, our ferocious QB!”
Laughter erupts amid claps, cheers, and catcalls, the nickname echoing off the lockers.
“ Damon was our hero, ready to fight ,” Chris continues, his voice rhythmic and playful. “ Got hit in the head and lost his sight. He threw three picks, we cried, and we spat ,” he singsongs. “ Then he finally woke the fuck up and said I got that!”
The room explodes into laughter again, and I roll my eyes as Chris smirks from his spot on the bench, shaking his head at me as if in disbelief at our miraculous comeback.
Chris holds up a hand for attention once more and the chatter subsides, everyone leaning in for the next verse.
“ Damon had us worried; he looked half past dead .” His expression turns solemn before brightening once more. “ But he came back and painted the field red. One touch, then another! Three touchdowns in a row! ” He jabs a fist in the air. “ We won the game and stole the show! ”
The jubilation is deafening. Men are clapping, towels are flung in the air like confetti, and someone starts up a pounding rhythm on a nearby locker when I’m pulled into a bear hug by Jace, who ruffles my hair.
Still, towering above us, Chris smiles as he watches from his perch on the bench, like a king overseeing his court.
With a raised arm, he gestures for silence once more before nodding to where I stand, wedged between Jace and Brandon.
“ Let this be a legend, written in ink. That Damon is our captain, leading us to the brink! ”
“One more win, baby!” Jace calls out beside me, and all around, the team starts to chant, “One more! One more! One more . . .”
Chris nods and holds up a finger, meeting my eyes as he mouths one more among the chorus, then finally hops down from his podium.
With a shit-eating grin, he crosses the room to me and claps me on the back with enough force, he nearly knocks me into the wall. “Our QB is back, baby, and we’re here to win!”
I scowl at him before turning away and pulling my hoodie over my head.
“Aw, come on, man,” Chris says, his tone forlorn. “You’re not still mad at us, are you?”
I glance over my shoulder with a raised brow, my gaze quickly shifting from him to Jace, Brandon, and West, letting my silence speak for me.
“I mean, can you really blame us for intervening?” Brandon says, at least having the decency to look sheepish.
“We were just trying to help, man,” West says.
I snort and prop my foot on the bench in front of me as I begin pulling on and lacing my sneakers.
“You’re really not going to talk to us?” Chris says with a huff. “You already ignored us the whole way here.”
“I mean, you can blame us all you want,” Jace says with a shrug, “but you have to admit, it worked.”
My head whips up to him and my nostrils flare. “It didn’t?” I snap my mouth closed, realizing too late that I broke my vow of silence. Shit.
“He speaks!” Chris throws his hands up in victory.
With a sigh and another roll of my eyes, I tie the laces of my other shoe and straighten.
These are my friends, my teammates, and I’m angry as hell for the shit they pulled, but they’re also like my brothers.
“ Fine ,” I grind out. “I’ll stop ignoring you, but just for the record, I’m still pissed. ”
“Noted.” Chris nods with a gleeful smile.
“Now, the question is, what are we gonna do tomorrow night to celebrate once we’re back home?” Brandon asks, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
“Er . . .” Chris scratches the back of his head. “Jace and I sort of promised we’d do this whole charity dance thing tomorrow night.”
“A dance?” Brandon says, sounding like Chris has just told him he’s going to a funeral.
Jace nods. “It’s a snowflake ball or some shit they’re putting on for the teens at Helping Hands, the charity Brynn volunteers for.”
“If it’s Brynn’s charity, why are you two going?” Brandon asks pointing between them.
“Ah, isn’t it obvious?” Jace replies. “Because they said so.”
I snicker and shake my head. “Suckers, both of you.” I sling my duffle over my shoulder.
“And that is precisely why I don’t have a girl.
Don’t worry, though. While West, Brandon, and I are sitting in the comfort of our apartment, eating a large pepperoni and sausage and watching Monday night football, we’ll think of you. ”
Jace clears his throat, speaking out of the side of his mouth while he eyes Chris and mutters, “Should you tell them, or should I?”
“Uh, yeah ,” Chris drawls, “about that . . .” He rocks back on his heels, looking everywhere but at me. “We-kind-of-volunteered-all-of-us-to-help,” he chokes out with lightning-fast speed.
“Say what now?” Brandon asks, cupping his ear. “It sounded like you just said that you volunteered all of us ”?he motions between himself, me, and West?“to help out with some high school dance, the day after our semifinal win, on our only day off, when we’ll all be exhausted from traveling.”
Chris shrugs, his smile sheepish. “That’s because we did.”
“Unbelievable,” Brandon mutters as he smacks his palm to his forehead.
“Cool,” West chimes in.
“Cool?” I blink at him like he’s insane.
“Thank you!” Chris yells, jabbing a finger in his direction. “Now that’s the kind of optimism we need around here.”
“Yeah, well, you all have fun with that,” I say with a laugh, because there’s no way in hell I’m going to some high school dance tomorrow night.
“Uh, were you not here for the part where I said we volunteered all of us?” Chris asks, aghast.
“Oh, I was here, alright, but it sounds like a you problem, not a me problem.”
“I’m with Damon on this one,” Brandon says, and I offer him a fist bump in solidarity. “I’m sure they could find plenty of volunteers elsewhere. Who the hell has a dance on a Monday, anyway?”
“That’s the thing,” Jace says. “They kind of had to reschedule, so they’re in need of chaperones, and they don’t want just anyone.
They want us. You know how involved the team is in the community, so when Brynn pitched the idea, they ran with it.
Now they keep going on and on about how our presence will be an incentive for the boys to go, since most of them think high school dances are lame. ”
“Uh, that’s because they are lame,” I point out. “And you know what’s even lamer? Celebrating our semifinal win by chaperoning a dance,” I say, without waiting for a reply.
Besides, these boys are better off at home where they won’t meet some girl that’ll inevitably crush their hearts to dust.
“But that’s exactly my point. Our presence there makes the dance cooler,” Chris argues.
“You mean, your presence makes it cool. Because I”—I point to my chest?“am not going.”
“Come on, man,” Chris whines. “We already promised the girls.”
“Give me one good reason why I should go,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Other than because you’ll make a bunch of these kids’ night?
” Jace says, playing hardball. “Because we’re better when the five of us stick together, as a team .
Take this week for example. The more you struggled on the field in practice, the more you pulled away.
You were distant, sullen, quiet. And the more you pulled away from us, the more you sucked. ”
“Then after Friday night, you were so pissed at us, you stopped talking to us completely,” Chris chimes in.
Jace nods. “And because of that, you went into the game with a chip on your shoulder.”
“And we almost lost.” Chris gives me a hard look.
“We’re all better when we stick together, when we rely on each other,” Jace adds.
“Nice try,” I argue, “but we won, and I don’t think I need a dance to?”
“If anything else, it’ll take your mind off Avery,” Jace states.
I freeze, and he takes this as his chance to pounce.
“In fact, you’ll be so busy decorating, setting up tables, talking to all your adoring fans, and making sure these kids keep their hands to themselves, you won’t even have time to think about her. ”
“Exactly.” Chris snaps his fingers. “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop, you know.”
I purse my lips, hating to admit they’re right because if I hang out at home, or anywhere on campus for that matter, it will be next to impossible to keep my mind off her.
The last thing I need is a ton of time to myself where my mind can wander, especially when we’re only one victory away from winning the National Championship.
I need to stay focused now more than ever. One more week and my fucked-up thoughts can run wild, but for now, I need to take this win and the energy I brought to the field in the second half and channel it, bring it into the coming weeks ahead.
With a long sigh, I rake a hand over my face as my shoulders curl in defeat.
“Dammit!” Brandon hisses beside me. “We’re going, aren’t we?”
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14 (Reading here)
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54