Page 63 of Sin

The sun drills into my eyes, and my head pounds, and I try to increase my speed, but my legs feel like they have weights attached to them. My footwork is atrocious as I weave through the cones, misjudging the distances and stumbling slightly with each abrupt turn.

It’s from lack of sleep, but it was worth it.

“Move, Ethan, move!” Coach Rodriguez’s shout snaps me back to the present, to the pathetic display of my body refusing to cooperate.

God, how did Lily survive months without sleep? I’m ready to collapse after a single night without it. I’ll probably need a nap if I plan to fuck her all night again.

“Practice is over for you, Harrington.” Coach Rodriguez’s voice makes me jump. “Hit the shower. I can’t watch any more of this. It’s pathetic.”

I shut my eyes and inhale a deep breath. Oh, well. It’s just one practice. And it means I’ll get to come home to Lily sooner.

“I’m not feeling well today,” I say to coach, but it’s a lie.

I feel better than I have in my whole life, like I’ve tuned into a higher frequency of existence.

Coach crosses his arms over his chest. “Oh, really? I never would have guessed.”

“I just need a full night’s sleep.”

But I won’t get it.

“You need to avoid getting drunk,” he says. “At least until the end of the season.”

I frown. “I’m not hungover.”

Coach rolls his eyes. “You think I haven’t seen this before? I expect it from the other guys, but not you. Do you have any idea, the position you’re in? How lucky you are?” He pulls his phone from his pocket. “Let me show you something.”

I already know what he’s about to show me. Some sports commentator critiquing my performance.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. I shouldn’t be snapping at him, even if he did just wrongly accuse me of being hungover. It was a reasonable assumption, and in a way, I was drunk last night.

Drunk on Lily.

Coach presses play on his phone, and sure enough, a commentator starts talking. “The pressure is on this season for Harrington. He’s got to prove that he can do this on a consistent basis.”

“Do you understand what’s at stake here?” Coach asks.

“I do,” I say firmly.

“I don’t think that’s true,” he says. “You won the jackpot last year, Harrington. No one would have any idea who you are if it wasn’t for your incredible performance against Redwood State. Division II wide receivers don’t usually have scouts knocking on their door.”

I nod. “I understand. I really do.” The words are hollow, even to my own ears. “It’s just…I’ve got stuff going on.”

“Stuff,” he scoffs. “We’ve all got stuff going on. But how many of us have a shot like yours?” His eyes lock onto mine. “Get out of here. You’d better look alive tomorrow.”

“Understood,” I say before turning around and heading toward the locker room.

As I make my way off the field toward the benches, Mason, who just finished a drill, steps in front of me, his grin as sharp as ever.

Fuck. I’ve been using all my focus to forget his existence, but he seems to take any opportunity he can to taunt me.

What a fucking idiot. It’s almost like he wants to get pummeled.

“How’s Lily doing?” he drawls loud enough for everyone around to hear.

Anger flares up inside me, like it always does when he talks about her. How dare he. He ought to be wasting away in jail, not wanting to even think of her, let alone mention her name.

I take a deep breath, trying to think of a measured response. I glance over my shoulder to make sure Noah isn’t within earshot. Thankfully, he’s yards away doing a tackling drill with the linebackers. I turn back to Mason, clenching my jaw. “Keep her name out of your mouth.”

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