Page 50 of Playing Games

“It’s more complicated than that, Blake,” I manage, my voice shaky. I fidget with the strap of my bag as if the motion can steady me. “You don’t…you don’t understand what it’s like in my head. You don’t have the thoughts or the pressures that I do. You don’t… Your brain doesn’t work like mine.”

“Well, of course it doesn’t. No two people think the same, Lex. None. So, what makes us so different? If I’m willing to learn and understand who you are as a person, why can’t you do the same for me? Why can’t it work? Opposites end up together all the time. Look at Finn and Scottie, for shit’s sake. You want to tell me they’re the same? Not a chance.”

“It’s just easier this way.”

His face crumples at my words, and I know immediately that I’ve hurt his feelings—I’ve hurt my own too. But it’s true. Trying to make it work with him is the harder road. Period.

He nods then, his eyes a little sad as he holds out the bag of food. I lick my lips to try to stop myself from freaking out. Emotionally, this all feels liketoo much.

“Here. You can have the food.”

“Blake.”

“Take it, Lex.” I grab the bag before it drops as he shoves it off his own finger. “I, for one, am not feeling all that hungry anymore.”

I flinch as he pushes open the door to the lab, effectively nudging me and the abandoned food bag out of the way. The door slams against the wall outside from his powerful shove, echoing through the empty, dark hallway as he powers down it without looking back.

My heart pounds and my stomach flips over, sick to itself.

What have I just done?

Thursday, June 19th

Blake

My calves burn as I push to run harder and harder with every suicide. We take the field in ten-yard increments, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, until we cover the whole thing, and for as much as it hurts, I wish it would suck just a little more.

Maybe that makes me insane, but the last ten days have been more fucking pain-ridden than any football hell week training could even dream to be, and it’s all my fault.

Fucking cocky, stupid, ornery—I justhadto prove a point to Lexi by standing up for myself, and look where it’s gotten me. Alone, sad, ten fucking days without her in my life at all and no choice but to hold my dick in my own hand and dream of what it was like to touch her.

Fuck.

“Boden!” Coach Gordan yells, his voice hoarse with irritation. “Take it easy, would ya? I don’t need a fucking injury before the season even starts, for shit’s sake!”

I power even harder for the last fifty-yard sprint, and Coach blows the whistle when I’m halfway there. I don’t stop, though. Ipump and I pump and I pump until my heart feels like it’s going to blow a hole wide open in my chest.

“Holy shit, Blake!” Ron Zimmerman yells from somewhere behind me. “What are you on today, brother?”

I keep pushing until I cross into the end zone, collapsing immediately to the ground and rolling over onto my back to stare at the sky. Clouds drift from east to west, falling from my head to my feet and continuing downfield until they clear the bleachers on the other side. I can hear the guys yelling and celebrating and shit-talking from all around me, but by and large, all I can do is remember to breathe. In and out, I work to bring my pulse back to normal.

“I think he broke himself,” Nick Fisher, my center and one of the biggest fuckers on the team, whispers as he finally crosses the finish line himself. I hold up a single middle finger, making them all giggle to themselves like little schoolgirls.

When Coach Gordan leans over me, blocking out the sky with his face, I know I’m about to get my ass chewed for real, though.

“Hey, Sleeping fucking Beauty…what the ever-loving hell was that shit?”

“Coach,” I wheeze, closing my eyes when breathing still doesn’t come naturally, and a cramp attacks me dead in the side.

“I swear, you kids are going to be the death of me. What are you trying to do, kill yourself? Trying to be some hotshot for the new guys?”

I shake my head, but he keeps going anyway.

“I don’t give a fuck. Whatever it is you’re doing, quit it, okay? Goddammit, I hate this job sometimes. Hit the showers!”

He climbs away from my corpse, and Hank Lewis, my tight end and go-to guy, steps in to take his place, holding out a hand to help me up. “Come on, Boden. Time to rise and shine.”

I sigh as he pulls me to my feet, groaning slightly at the pain in every single part of my body. “Certainly seems like you’re being driven from a different place today. Everything okay?”

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