Page 13 of Fragile

She stares at me with such a sincere and caring expression, one I don’t often see from her, and smiles sadly. “Talk to Miles. Tell him…something. Anything.”

Ice quickly turns to heat in my body and claws at my throat. I’m embarrassed and slightly ashamed by the feeling I always get when I think about talking to him because I know I never, ever could. What the hell would I say? “I-I can’t, Indie. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“How about…‘Hey, I like you. Wanna go on a date?’” She wiggles her eyebrows teasingly. “You wanted to date more anyway, right?”

A sad smile lifts the side of my mouth. “You mean I don’t go in with‘Hey, I’m in love with you and have been since you gave me your last gummy worm.”

Indie winces. “I mean, it’s bold. It’d definitely catch his attention.”

“Hah. No, it’s a really awful idea.” I shake my head. “I’m resigned to loving him from afar, and that’s that.” It’s my only option.

She sighs, her shoulders deflating with the action. “I just mean, put yourself on his radar, because he’s got his best friend blinkers on. That’s all.”

And guys thought they were the only ones “friend zoned.”

I nod as we leave the restroom and think about her words. Maybe he does have blinkers on when it comes to me. He’s been the most conditioned out of all the men in my life because he’s been there with Seb and me the longest. We’ve all been best friends our whole lives and, as a result, I was always off limits for him. So, if I did remove those boundaries, maybe there could be hope.

But as soon as we round the corner and spot all the guys sitting at a booth, my eyes find him, and fear slams into my chest, making me realize that I need to let it all go. No matter how much I want to, I’ll never have the guts to tell him how I feel.

***

Miles

As we walk back to campus, stomachs full and without Hudson and Jay who ended up chasing after some girls, my buzz has worn off, and I can feel myself crashing. My mood has been souring a little, and I’m glad we’ve left the diner, because the loud chatter was grating on my nerves.

Comedowns are a bitch. Levi says some people are fine; they just get tired and can sleep it off, but I get this anxious high simmering in my veins, like I’m destined for a bad trip. I’m not an angry person, but these drugs know how to pull it out of me. When I took them for the first time last year, after winning the championship, we all went to a party, and I got into a fight. My friends put it down to the win and adrenaline, but it was more than that. I remember the way my anger gripped me when some guy tried to talk shit about one of my teammates. I saw red.

My phone buzzes in my pocket—another text from Dad, reminding me to call the nutritionist he recommended. I sigh,knowing I should, but I just don’t have it in me tonight. Tucking my phone away again, I take a minute to breathe in the evening air and calm my mind. I just need to get to my bed. I know the drill. It sucks that I get the short straw, but it won’t stop me. I could top up and make that feeling go away, but I want to reserve the rush of the initial high, the focus and adrenaline for games only.

“You ever think about how much is going to change after we graduate?” Seb asks, his odd late-night melancholy distracting me.

It’s all my dad talks about, so how can I not think about it? But lately, I’ve been avoiding the topic because what happens when I achieve the pros? He constantly has autonomy over my career, but would that end when I’m drafted? I don’t think so. If anything, it could get worse.

“Yes and no,” I reply honestly.

“Why no? Dude, we’ve always talked about going pro, and now you’re telling me that you aren’t thinking about it all the time?”

I feel that familiar uncomfortable prickle in my throat again, but I swallow to clear it. “You ever wonder what it would be like if we weren’t going pro?”

Seb stops in his tracks. Shit, I shouldn’t have said anything. “Do you not want to go pro?”

“Of course I want that,” I say, the words sounding like a half-lie for the first time in my life. “I just mean, I’m thinking what if we don’t make it.”

A deep frown sets between Seb’s eyebrows, concern sliding onto his face. “This isn’t the first time you’ve said this. Remember when you shaved your head last year?”

I nod. Yeah, I remember after a game, my dad was a complete asshole, and I lost it. The rational thing would have been to move on, but I decided to shave a strip through my head, which he had to help me fix.

“You think we won’t make it? Is that it? Miles, we’ve both got some of the highest stats in the game. We’ll definitely be playing on an NFL team by graduation.” He studies me for a second. “Is there something going on you want to talk about?”

I shake my head, running my hand down my face. “No. I want the pros, you know that. Ignore me.”

“Bullshit. I know you. What’s up?”

This is the moment I should tell him that I feel like I might be drowning. That every time I run onto that field, knowing my dad is watching, assessing, waiting for me to fuck up, the darkness threatens to pull me under. That if this is what it’s like at a college level, what would it be like if I did get drafted? Nothing I do is ever enough for my father. Tonight notwithstanding. His constant downpour of shame and shitty remarks is eating away at me slowly, backing me into a corner where I see no way out? For fuck’s sake, I’ve been partaking in something IknowI shouldn’t be doing that could destroy me, but after tonight’s results, I can’t give it up that easily.

This is the moment I could share my pain with my best friend, and he would help me fix it, make it better, because that’s the kind of guy he is. But instead of going to him, I keep my mouth shut, bury the shameful secret that my problems are masked in the form of a little pill that gives me the boost I need for my dad to remain on my good side.

“I want the pros.” I hesitate, then inhale deeply. “I just don’t want to mess it up.”

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