Page 8 of The Frathole

“Nah, kicking isn’t what I do with him.”

We share another laugh.

“Now he’s fucking branded you, dude,” I say, indicating the tat of Atlas’s name on his wrist.

I used to see his boyfriend/stepbro around campus, and since he graduated, I mostly see him through Troy. He’s a cool guy who does a lot of good work for a nonprofit in Peachtree Springs. When they’re together, they’re totally obsessed, which isn’t surprising given they have each other’s name tattooed on their bodies.

“The animosity between Mart and me is different,” I explain. “You and Atlas give each other hell, but it’s always like roasting, there’s something friendly behind it. That’s the way I am with most of the guys in the house.”

“It wasn’t always like that. Atlas used to know how to pick at my sorest spots. Guy could get me from zero to a hundred with one snide comment. Not saying you and Marty are destined to be boyfriends, though.”

I huff. “I can just imagine Marty as a boyfriend. He’d be exhausting. Always stressed. I keep thinking if he got laid, then maybe he’d be less of an ass. Someone needs to give it to him so that maybe he can chill the fuck out. Actually, on second thought, maybe it would work out because that might match my sex drive.”

Troy eyes me, his expression twisted up.

“What?” I ask.

“You realize you just went on a tangent about messing around with him, right?”

“No, I was sayingsomeoneshould. Not me. Don’t make it weird.”

He glares playfully. “You already did.”

“Whatever, dude.”

My phone buzzes in my back pocket, and when I pull it out, I see Mom’s calling. Not whom I was expecting, since Dad’s prettymuch been nonstop lately due to the Combine week coming up. Maybe he got Mom to call on his behalf since I haven’t responded yet. Although, he knows I’m working.

“Interesting,” I say.

“That you’re taking calls while you’re on the job?”

“Oh, fuck.” I quickly tuck my phone back in my pocket.

“I’m only giving you hell, man. You think I never pulled that stuff on the job? Just don’t do it while you’re messing with shit.”

“Thanks, Troy. I appreciate your not reporting this back to the frat.” Troy laughs, but I have this tension in my gut. “Ugh. Dad’s so excited about next week.”

“It’s exciting,” Troy insists. “This is what you’ve been doing all this for, right?”

It should be. I’ve been incredibly fortunate when it comes to football.

But it’s been more than that. Since I was a kid, Dad and I have been a team, building me up, training constantly, working with the right trainers for this moment to happen. Now here it is, and…this is not how I thought I’d feel.

Troy must sense my hesitation because he says, “Ry?”

I scratch the back of my neck.

He stops what he’s doing and folds his arms. “Okay. I’ve noticed you get like this whenever I talk about the draft lately. What’s up?”

I hesitate. It’s not something I’ve talked to anyone about, but Troy has experience with all this. From what I’ve heard through guys on the team, he was a sure pick for a few colleges before his injury in high school.

“Maybe I’m just getting in my head too much, but…kind of having second thoughts about pro.”

“Really?”

“That was always the dream, and Dad threw his life intoprepping me for it. Always supporting me a thousand percent. All hands on deck. But as much fun as it’s been playing for Peach State, I’m wondering if maybe I’ve done it and there are other parts of my life I want to explore.”

“I hear that. It was different for me since I was forced to step back from it, but I was on the same track. And life had other plans for me, I guess. Just know, if you’re wondering if there is a life besides football, I can assure you, there definitely is. And it can be really beautiful and a lot more chill.”