With the first part of my day finished, the plan is to grab lunch and head over to the library for an hour of studying. After that, I have one last class before I need to hustle back to the stadium for a two-hour practice. I’ll shower again, cram in a little more studying, and hit the sack. Then I’ll get up tomorrow and do it all over again.
Anyone who thinks it’s easy to be a student athlete doesn’t know what the hell they’re talking about. Sometimes, it sucks major ass. When we’re in season, my day is scheduled down to the last minute.
That being said, have I ever thought about quitting to be a regular student on campus without all the responsibility that comes along with being an athlete?
Nope.
The endgame is the NFL. For the foreseeable future, I’ll work my ass off to attain my goals. No matter how much time it takes or how little sleep I get. If I have to burn the candle at both ends to make it through graduation, I’ll do it.
My father played football at Western before getting drafted to the pros. I want to follow in his footsteps. Memories of throwing around the ball in the backyard are some of the most cherished ones I have. And I hold them the closest. He played in the pros for fifteen years before sustaining an injury he couldn’t come back from.
He was there for every game I played from elementary up through high school until he was taken away from us. He spent years coaching me. I enjoyed how both the kids and parents would crowd around him, wanting to listen to the stories of his glory days. My chest would puff up with pride as I hung onto every word, even though they were tales I’d heard so many times I could recite them myself.
What I’m trying to achieve is not only for me. It’s a tribute to him.
So far, I’m on track to make it happen. It’s bittersweet to know that the man who was my hero is no longer here to see me accomplish my goals. To take pleasure in his son turning his dreams into a reality. The ones we set together when I was just a skinny-ass kid who could barely catch a football.
I glance at the different restaurants that line the inside of the building and try to decide what would be the easiest to grab and eat on the go. There’s a smoothie shop that sells pitas and wraps, another with burgers and chicken sandwiches, and then pizza. The pizza gets instantly nixed. All the grease and cheese will end up settling like a rock at the bottom of my gut. That leaves a grilled chicken sandwich or a wrap.
Since I had a sandwich yesterday, we’ll go for a wrap today.
I can wolf it down on my way to the library and it won’t ruin my girlish figure. I’m doing my best to stay in top form. The NFL Combine is coming up and I need to impress the scouts. Rowan is lucky. There’s already a buzz surrounding him. And there’s talk about me as well, but a lot of sportscasters will bring up my father and rehash the highpoints of his career. I want them focused solely on me. On my accomplishments and abilities.
As I step in line, my hand automatically reaches for my phone. I hate how tempting it is to shoot Sydney a text and see what she’s up to. As soon as I conjure up a mental image, memories of what it feels like to slide deep inside her crash over me like a tidal wave, flooding me with pleasure. We’ve had sex a few times and it just keeps getting better and better. There’s something about her and the way our bodies fit together perfectly. It’s almost as if she were made for me.
The moment that thought pops into my head, I stuff the phone back into my pocket, resisting the urge to touch base. I had assumed we would knock boots once or twice and then I’d get bored or lose interest. Most of the time, that’s what happens. But it’s turned out to be the complete opposite. The more I have, the hungrier I am. Where that girl is concerned, I’m insatiable. This is a first for me, and I’m not quite sure what to make of it. Fucking Sydney out of my system hasn’t turned out to be as clear-cut as I’d originally assumed. Maybe I need to chill out on the whole sex thing for a few days until I get a firm handle on the situation.
That’s probably a good plan moving forward. It’s not like I don’t have enough to occupy my time.
I almost snort.
Although, a jam-packed schedule certainly hasn’t prevented me from dropping by her place for a little naked time.