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Drake

I stare at the playbook all afternoon, but nothing sticks. Not when Lyla’s words are blitzing through my brain on repeat. I can’t help but think that I’m not what anyone needs right now—not LJ, not my team, obviously not Lyla.

There’s an itch to drown my sorrows with something that will take the edge off. I groan, cradling my head in my hands as I think of how easy it would be to go to pretty much any store to get what my body craves when things get hard.

Instead, I call Carlos and tell him about my interaction with LJ and Lyla. “Well, is she wrong?” he says in his matter-of-fact way.

I grit my teeth. “No,” I grind out.

“You should probably go ahead and marry this girl, ASAP. She’s got your number and won’t let you get away with anything.”

I let out a bitter laugh, knowing Lyla barely tolerates me. “Pretty sure she hates me,” I tell him.

“Hey, hate isn’t that far from love.”

“Uh, it’s the opposite of love, man.”

“Nah, that’s indifference you’re thinking of—hate is passion, which is a cousin of love.”

I laugh, because I can’t help it. “Whatever you say, bro.”

“If I were you, I’d take her advice—dig in, mano . Show up, do the hard work. That’s what this whole redemption arc is about, isn’t it? Facing the hard thing instead of running away?”

“Redemption arc?” I scoff. “I’m not a character in one of your movies.”

Carlos laughs. “But you wish you could be, right?”

I shake my head. “If I were in one of your movies, I would just be the dumb, confused one that dies first.”

“Ayyy,” he cackles. “Don’t think so little of yourself, man. You’ve got main character energy.”

“I might have main character energy, but I’m doomed to be a secondary character.”

“We’ll see, we’ll see.”

“If my life were one of your movies, what would you have me do right now?”

“Hmm, I think we’re due for a hard work montage—little clips of you doing the dirty work, showing up day in and day out, putting others first.”

“Nice. Those are always short.”

Carlos laughs. “They’re short in the movie, but they represent a lot of time in real life.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Carlos’s tone takes on a serious note. “Do the hard work, man.”

I take a deep breath, turning inward for a moment. Can I do the hard work? Sometimes, I think I can. And then other times, I doubt that I’m even capable. “Will do,” I say, but I’m not even sure I believe me.

After I get off the phone with Carlos, I sit back down at the playbook and diligently study like I’ve never done before.

It sounds cheesy, but I tell myself I can do hard things , over and over again until I don’t have to anymore—because I’m doing the hard thing.

I study until my brain feels like a wrung-out towel.

After a plunge in the pool and some dinner, I make a list of the hard things I can do to win over my team and LJ—and, if I’m absurdly lucky, maybe Lyla too.

Not because I’m hoping for anything romantic. Just respect. Trust.

(Okay, and maybe one day the tiniest shot at something more. But not yet.)

Show up early to practice and Play It Forward.

Own up to my mistakes. Don’t pretend they didn’t happen.

Host a dinner for the team (that doesn’t revolve around alcohol).

I lean back, thinking of what else would convince my team I’m a different player than I used to be.

Back in college and when I played briefly for the Bucs, I was a scrambler—when a play would break down, I would run around in the backfield looking for opportunities.

And I thrived that way. The only problem is that I got really comfortable with scrambling—sometimes, I wouldn’t even wait for the play to break down, the minute things got a little uncomfortable for me, I’d run.

Just like in real life.

Now, I need to show my team that I can stay in the pocket and take the hits when it’s necessary.

I think about Austin Taylor, who took my spot in Tampa—how cool and calm he was, even when our offensive line broke and he was about to get pummeled.

He can wait till the last possible second to make the throw and he’s so effective that way.

I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I need to be a little more like Austin Taylor. I sigh as I write down: Be willing to take hits in the pocket.

I tap my pen onto the paper, trying to think of what else I could do to win over LJ. I write down some ideas, brainstorming.

But the thing I keep circling back to: I need to ask Lyla what I should do to win him over. And that might be the smartest play I’ve made all season.