W hat is wrong with me?

How could I let myself lose a game like that? Our team avoided defeat but nearly suffered one. My easiest game for the season turned into my worst performance ever.

It was atrocious. Today I delivered the poorest performance of my entire life. This situation is unacceptable because football represents everything I live for. To me the game encompassed my entire life.

Perhaps I'm exaggerating but my plan became active when I received that scholarship offer. Since I was a kid I've only ever thought about the NFL. I dreamed of being the best.

I wanted to reach the exceptional level of football performance demonstrated by Joe Montana, Peyton Manning, Aiden Rodgers, and Tom Brady. My ambition was to join the ranks of legendary players.

With this opportunity in front of me I knew it could become reality.

The game overwhelmed me when I examined the scoreboard, observed my coach's words and watched the complete passes. For the first time ever I lost my focus during the game and I have no clue what caused it.

Jaxon understand exactly what disrupted your concentration. Her presence prevented you from maintaining focus.

This morning after waking up on my typical hangover day I had a quick breakfast before driving to the game as usual.

As I fastened my wristband to my arm and noticed the hair tie on my wrist, I remembered everything.

It came in images: I recalled the events of that graduation night when Travis held his massive party. We were in a dark room. Her voice ripped through my ears as she yelled at me which let me know I was with her.

I took a moment before I recalled seeing her pressed against the wall. She kissed me after standing at such proximity to her.

I took a seat on the bench as I reflected on my memories. The more time I spent looking at the red band the more memories returned to my mind. I am unsure whether we spoke, but I do recall returning her kiss.

As I pulled her to me until no space was left between us, I remember how I cupped her face and noticed her taste when I put my tongue in her mouth.

As the referees summoned the captains I began to feel the weight of my previous actions. The temperature wasn't excessive even though there was a slight drizzle. I hadn't exerted any energy. So why was I sweating?

The ref asked for a side. "Tails." I quickly blurt out.

Tails?

"Tails? You never say tails, Rowan." El bumped me on the shoulder. I know. I know I never say tails. I always call heads. Why did I call tails?

The referees announce "heads" and my heart begins to beat faster. They make the choice to receive the ball first, so I decide to leave.

The game was just getting underway. I got progressively worse each play. I would give a play Call to start the play, but her thoughts haunted me every time they snapped me the ball.

I tried to expel her thoughts from my mind but found it nearly unachievable. It took until a 200-pound man reached five feet in front of me for me to realize what was happening.

By halftime, I was frustrated with myself. Throughout the game the coach yelled at me because he had legitimate reasons to do so. Our opponent team was the weakest team in our entire region. The team remained just a field goal behind from tying the game.

I knew it was me. She was responsible for my situation, but everything happened because of me. When I saw her talking to my mom from the bleachers the negative images got worse. My senses became acute, and I lived through the moment again but within five seconds.

I groaned and shook my head.

My terrible play through the game left me feeling frustrated. I don't let girls distract me. They never get the chance to. The kiss exchange happens and then nothing else follows. The game I love remains my focus because she can't steal my attention.

She managed to distract me from the game, and I disliked that. I became angry with myself for allowing her entrance from the start. The fact she distracted me should have made me hate her but instead I hated my inability to feel hate towards her. I experienced annoyance and frustration while still holding back from hating her.

The kiss wouldn't stop running through my mind and that infuriated me.

Although I have kissed numerous girls throughout my life, I don't recall them in this way. I expect myself to be disgusted by it but I am not.

I don't feel disgusted but I'm uncertain if I enjoyed the experience. I shouldn't, but I really can't tell.

What is going on with me?

Bad things are going on with you. She's lying beside me on the bed wearing her pyjamas now, but I question whether she recalls what occurred earlier.

With each passing thought I have about the situation my certainty grows that she must remember what happened. The diner experience confirmed her cheeks were definitely red. She didn't appear ill, but I thought the heat or possibly makeup could explain her condition.

Looking back, I understand she probably lied during that table conversation. She could've lied about not knowing. She didn't need to lie because she had no memory of it at that moment. Once my memory returned, I started to think she was blushing.

My eyes shift from her face to the watch on my wrist. Suddenly my brain is overwhelmed with images while I experience an idiotic tingly feeling. A slight motion touches my lips before I shake my head.

No. We're not feeling a stupid fucking feeling. I see her clearly when Elijah gets up following Kylie's bathroom call. She is lying stomach-down while scrolling through her phone.

I only became aware of my hand touching her hair tie when the room was filled with a familiar snap. She rotated her head towards me just as I started to look away.

And it isn't perfect.

She remains unaware that I'm aware and every time our gazes meet, I relive the memory of holding her against the wall while my tongue invading her lips.

Jesus. I need to get a fucking grip.

I turn to face the wall. I search for any distraction that will help me stop thinking about her. The trip will happen, but she will join us every day. The bet represents my only remaining thought.

But that bet included her, too. And it was a dangerous fucking bet. I understood the risks of the bet immediately after creating it, but she agreed because she lacked awareness and her pride blinded her to danger.

That maybe it. The bet represents my escape from this situation. The situation improved when I accepted it as part of my betting strategy. The situation remained terrible, yet I had found a justification. I had a motive.

If you take the victory in this bet then all your emotional struggles will become irrelevant.

I'm probably fucking insane. I know that.

The high stakes of this bet require you to make the "enemy" fall for you. Easy.

Wrong. This is fucking bad. She's not going to make it easy. The known badness of my situation turns into something even worse when I think about losing. I don't lose. And I'm not about to.

I have three days down here which I can use to secure victory. Win the bet, lose the feelings. It's a win-win in my mind.

The challenge before me now requires figuring out exactly how I plan to accomplish this.