The Senior (College Years 4)

Where the hell did those come from?

He practically shoves me out of the way to get to his mother’s bedside, and I step back, letting them have their moment.

Still lingering around though, so I can watch this show unfold.

“Oh, Ryan, you came!” He sets the roses on a nearby table before he bends over her and wraps her in a careful hug, all while she gushes. “I was so hoping you would be here, and that you would be the one who picked me up. I’ve missed you so much.”

Okay maybe I don’t want to watch this. I’ll just get irritated and feel insulted on my boyfriend’s behalf.

Can I think that? That Eli is my boyfriend once again?

I’m going with yes.

“Looks like you’ve got this covered,” I tell Ryan.

They both swivel their heads in my direction, as if they forgot I was even there.

“I’ll take her home,” he says, going into authoritative, oldest child mode. I recognize it well, thanks to my sister pulling that on us all the time, especially when we were younger. “But thanks for coming.”

And then they start speaking in low tones, his mother launching into an explanation of what happened last night. I can already tell she’s trying to downplay the drinking and the severity of the accident. Does he know about the police involvement? How they want to arrest her for DUI?

I flee the room before the irritation becomes unbearable.

Guess I’ll let him figure all that out on his own.

Twenty-Five

Eli

I’m distracted again. Playing for shit on the worst possible day.

Game day.

And an important one too—but aren’t they all important?

I can’t have this happen. Not here, not now. I’m having total flashbacks to last season, when every little thing would take me down and I would make mistake after mistake. To the point that it became ultra-obvious to everyone, including the spectators and the other teams and worst of all, the media, that I was turning into a shit quarterback who allowed his emotions to rule him.

That was almost a direct quote by some local reporter who gleefully did his best to knock me off my pedestal. The asshole.

It’s the beginning of the third quarter and I couldn’t manage to score when we had the ball, so now I’m leaving the field, disgusted with myself, knowing I’m the sole reason why we’re playing so shitty.

“Hey! Bennett!”

I turn as we’re almost off the field, watching as Tony approaches me, his dark eyes locked on me as he draws nearer. “What?” I ask wearily.

We come to a stop on the sideline, in front of the bench. The defense is shuffling past us, jogging out onto the field for their turn, including Caleb who watches us as he runs past.

I ignore him, concentrating on Tony, praying he isn’t going to give me a bunch of shit.

“Don’t let it all get in your head.” He thwacks his fingers against the side of my helmet. “You’re living in there right now when you need to be out on this field.”

He’s right. I know he’s right. But I can’t help but be distracted. I’m worried about my mom. Her problem hangs over me like a dark cloud, because she needs help, yet she’s in full denial. It’s hard to help someone who believes they’ve got everything under control.

And I don’t have time for her. I mean, I’ll make time. I have to. She’s my mom, after all. But I’ve got school and football and homework and Ava and I don’t know how I’m going to manage it all.

Then there’s the sex thing. As in, Ava and I did it last night. Early this morning. In the shower. It was amazing. Better than it’s ever been between us. She’s so responsive and extra bold and I’m fucking digging it.

But…the sex thing seems to mess with my playing abilities, which sounds like a bunch of shit. Yet here I am, fucking up out on the field. I threw an interception in the second quarter, which about sent me to my knees.