Page 12

CHAPTER 12

LINGER BY THE CRANBERRIES

Parker Thompson:

“Thompson, get your ass over here now!” Coach screams over the entire locker room from his office.

Everyone looks at me, literally the entire team. Heat hits my cheeks and I fight the urge to cringe. Bellamy taps my thigh as he sits on the bench in the middle of the locker room. He’s probably tired and sore after the fight we just put up to win that game. We won by the skin of our fucking teeth. Coach was pissed. I understand why, I’m pissed too. That team wasn’t one we should be worried about losing to. We should have wiped the ground with them but we didn’t.

“You’re going to be fine,” Bellamy tells me as I run my towel over my hair once more, drying it as it curls up.

It’s growing out, just now reaching my chin. What I had going on before wasn’t doing me any favors so I figured I’d try something different. Maybe that will get Brianne Archer to talk to me again. It’s been a week since she ran away from my apartment screaming and as much as I don’t want to admit it to anyone, especially myself, it hurts. Her leaving the way she did and calling me a mistake hurt my damn feelings.

Bellamy looks at me expectantly and I clench my jaw. Reason number fucking one as to why I shouldn’t speak to Brianne Archer is right next to me right now. I’m not crossing her boundaries. She set a very clear one and that was that we can’t ever do what we did again, and Bellamy cannot find out. Staring at him right now, I feel like a dick for what I’m keeping from him. That’s why I’ve been avoiding him all week. I also feel stupid for even letting myself surpass the single boundary I told myself I wouldn’t cross until I was sure. I thought I was sure she’d be over the Bellamy thing. I was stupid to think that. That doesn’t mean all of this isn’t lingering around. If she texted me right now, I would be the fool that would run out of this locker room to meet her and talk this out.

“It’s because I sucked tonight,” I tell my teammate but he shakes his head.

“No. We all did. We all were somewhere else. There’s no need to harbor all of the defeat on your shoulders. Maybe Coach Corbin has notes for you specifically,” Bellamy shrugs as Lawson walks around the corner, a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Or he’s kicking your ass to the curb,” Lawson shrugs and turns around.

“I don’t think I should listen to someone who’s dumb enough to get a tramp stamp,” I joke, eyeing the small butterfly inked on Lawson’s lower back.

“My tramp stamp is sexy first of all, and second of all, it’s Bellamy’s fault I have it so blame him,” Lawson hikes his thumb toward his friend who is smirking a mischievous grin.

“You better go before Coach bursts a blood vessel,” Bellamy nods and I look over to see a red-faced Coach Corbin standing in his office, pacing.

I sigh and pull my shirt over my body, walking myself toward the office, dread present in my stomach. I really don’t feel like getting yelled at right now. I shove open the door and he nods his head to the chair in front of him. His pointer finger taps his chin tentatively.

“Before you say anything, I know how bad I was tonight. I’m sorry,” I tell him and Coach Corbin shakes his head.

“Be quiet son.” He puts his hand out, almost like he’s signaling for me to calm down.

“I—”

“I said shut it. I can hardly pull any words out of you normally, but the one time I need you to shut the hell up, you want to yap?” he asks.

I close my mouth instantly. Well, that’s one way to put it…

“Yes, sir, sorry, Coach,” I mumble, pushing myself back into the chair, wishing I could melt into the squeaky seat.

I take a deep breath and run my hands over my knees, wiping the sweat that’s collected.

“I’m going to be honest with you here, Thompson. You know I’ve got your file. Just like every single one of my players I know your story, I know your life,” he explains. I nod once. “You play like you’re trying to win a fight,” he tells me and I furrow my brows.

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?” I ask him.

“To an extent, yeah, you’re supposed to fight to win. You’re not winning a fight though, do you understand me?” he asks and I just look at him.

“You’re the wide receiver. Your job is to do… Well, to do almost everything, you know what you’re out there to do. Tell me.” He motions for me to speak and I sigh, wondering if this is some type of trick question.

“I… I’m supposed to block players from the ball, run plays, run the ball. Outsmart, outmaneuver. Fight to win,” I finish and he shakes his head.

“The win shouldn’t be a fight if you’re doing your job right, Parker,” Coach Corbin shakes his head. “It’s the way you were taught, the way you learned as you grew up and it’s gotten you very very far in your career. But I want your career to move past here. I want you to go all the way. Like Griffin Jones. Like Archer is going to when he leaves here,” he tells me.

The mention of continuing my career makes my heart jump. I nod.

“I want to keep going. That's all I want,” I admit.

“I know, kid. I know and you can but you can’t do it with the technique you have right now. You’re on the right path. You just need a little bit of direction. You’ve fought your whole life to keep going, to stay afloat, to keep your football career. You don’t have to fight anymore. You can enjoy it,” he explains and I ignore the small sinking feeling in my chest.

“Yes, sir.” I nod. “I’ll do whatever it takes,” I admit.

I truly would. Coach Corbin is right. I’ve fought for this my whole life. I have strived to be where I am and I’ll be damned if I let something as minuscule as my technique on the field ruin that.

“You’re the leader next year when Lawsy and Archie head out of here. I need you at the top of your game. You’re at the top of your year but that’s not enough. I had a lot of the other guys do this, separately, sometimes in the same classes. It shouldn’t be an issue if you don’t make it one. Do you understand?” he asks and I get a bad feeling.

“What is it?” I ask and he sighs.

“I need you to train with one of the head dancers over in the fitness buildings. Once or twice a week until I feel like you’ve improved. I’ve already talked to the dance professor. She’s always on board considering she’s helped me before.”

I clench my jaw at his words.

“I’m not saying no, I just want an explanation as to why dancing will help me?” I ask him.

“Because you treat your body like a freight train. Sometimes I need a train and sometimes I need you to float… Like a little flower.”

I stare at the big man in front of me and blink a few times before I open my mouth.

“You want me to be a flower on the field?” I ask him.

“Damn straight. Now agree and I will get your schedule set up. You aren’t playing and risking an injury the next few weeks, so until you get your act together you’re not stepping foot on that turf. Not until there’s been time for improvement.” He tells me. I sigh and shake my head.

“I said I’d do whatever it takes, I meant it,” I tell him.

The thought of not playing is almost devastating but that means I need to prove to Coach I can really do this. Working on my game and working on my career is really what I should be focused on, not what Lawson and Bellamy want me to focus on. Not girls or parties or doing college the right way. I need college to end and everything else in my life to begin.