Page 1 of Matched By My Rival
Prologue
SIMON
September
Iwatched other people party from the saggy sofa where I was stationed, my leg elevated on a flimsy coffee table after another injury. A pulled hamstring this time. I wore a compression wrap around my thigh.
Could have been worse.
That was the phrase my friends and teammates kept repeating. They were right. It could have been much worse. I’d once seen a player get a spiral fracture. That was shudder-inducing agony that could not be unseen.
I raised my plastic cup and finished the last swallow of beer, then looked around for someone to get me another. I’d stubbornly walked a block to attend the party, with the aid of much hated crutches, despite feeling like crap. Darnell caught my eye and gave me a thumbs-up. The linebacker was a good guy. He liked to look out for his boys. That meant I wouldn’t be thirsty for long. Good. I needed to shut down the shitstorm kicking up in my brain.
My hamstring would take a few weeks to heal, a few weeks of playing time during my senior year that I didn’t want to give up. But more than that, it gave Parker Reed another opportunity to step up his game. Another chance for the coaching staff to question whether Parker should be their number one receiver. Another chance for them to reconsider my scholarship, one of the largest they allocated and still not enough to cover all expenses. They had to spread their money around and rarely gave out full rides.
The injury could have been worse, but it wasn’t the first. I’d been injured twice my junior season, a concussion and later an ACL strain that had scared the shit out of me. If it had torn, I would have been out for an entire year. I’d have needed surgery my family couldn’t afford.
Getting hurt was becoming a pattern. One the coaching staff hadn’t missed.
I needed to impress them, not sit on the sidelines like a lump while Parker gloated about the caught passes and touchdowns that should have been mine.
He loved taunting me too.
Think I can break your record tonight, Prentiss?
Think the coaches will figure out who the better player really is?
Watch out, Prentiss, your face might get stuck that way.
Always with a goddamn, shit-eating smile. And why not? Parker was happy to step into the limelight. My misfortune was his gain.
It was a reality all players dealt with—the idea that the second you weren’t the best, someone would step in to fill your shoes. But that it was Parker was extra infuriating. He was one of those golden boys: the money, the talent, the easy smiles. He didn’t take football seriously. He didn’t put in the work. He just ran out onto the field andplayed.
The fucker.
He always had this ridiculous grin on his face. His eyes fucking twinkled like he was laughing at some joke only he knew. It grated on my nerves—even before I started to worry about my position with the team, about retaining my scholarship.
I needed that funding. My whole family did.
Darnell Davidson dropped down beside me, his heavy weight making the cushion sink as he handed me a fresh beer. “How’s it goin’?”
“How do you think?” I grumbled, tipping back the cup for a big gulp. “Shitty.”
Darnell jostled me. “Ah, come on. You’re at a party. You can use this leg to score sympathy points with any fine female you want. The wounded warrior.” He laughed. “Shit, I almost envy you.”
“Bullshit,” I said. “You don’t need to be on crutches to pick up hot girls.”
He grinned, his strong jaw, full lips, and dark eyes enough to make anyone look twice, not to mention his broad-shouldered, muscular build. A lot of linebackers were big men, but not everyone had Darnell’s charisma. “I guess not everyone can be a player like me,” he said, puffing up with pride.
“Besides, I have a girlfriend,” I reminded him. “Kristin?”
“Ah yeah. I thought that was over?”
I shrugged and chugged the rest of my beer. I didn’t want to talk about Kristin and whatever the fuck was going on with us. We’d been on a roller coaster of ups and downs lately, but she was a sweetheart who deserved better. Maybe I’d call her later, try to set things right. I’d been an angry asshole ever since this injury took me out of the game.
“Whatever.” I waggled my empty cup. “Can you get me another?”
“Asking the black man to wait on you, huh? Real nice, Prentiss.”
