Page 154 of Steeling Her
“I don’t want to listen to you either.” I yank my towel aggressively out of my bag, telling him to walk away from me before I say or do something I’ll regret, but he doesn’t listen to me. “Just hear me out kid?” he suggests. Coach sits next to my gym bag when I don’t respond. I don’t sit next to him. Instead, I remain standing and cross my arms over my chest.
“You’re an extraordinary player, Nick. I don’t think you understand just how great you are. The last quarterback I coached that had the same drive, passion, and talent was Austin Steel. I know it’s not the best comparison, but he was extremely focused with his game and look where it’s gotten him? He’s a huge star on the field and the most sought after quarterback on the planet. I know that, that could be you someday. You just need that push, that’s why I’m hard on you. I’m not saying you’re my favorite, but you’re my favorite.” He chuckles but I don’t laugh. Instead, I huff loudly and throw my towel back into the bag. I make my way over to sit next to him.
“Listen, kid, I know you have a real thing for her. But it’s just not good right now. You’re finishing college and she’s only starting, so do you think it’s the best thing to go and get into a relationship when you’re about to leave and travel around the country under a new contract while she’s here for the next three or so years studying?” He convinces me to think strongly about it. Maybe he’s right? Maybe I jumped in head first? But why does it feel so right to be with her? Why do I feel like shit for thinking about leaving her?
“Coach, I don’t know if I can do that to her. I’ll hurt her, and I will never,everforgive myself for it. She means everything to me, and I do mean everything. I’ve never felt like this about a girl before, and I want her every step of the way with me. I want her beside me at all times when I’m making it up the ranks. I just can’t walk away from her. I fell for her, I fell hard for her, Coach.” I begin to fidget as I finally confess how I feel about her out loud. I care so much for her, and I would never want to hurt her. This is, hands down, the worst day of my life to date. I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place.
“I’ll let you in a piece of advice my father once told me as a young man in love; if it’s meant to be, she’ll come back. But this is your career on the line, Nick, don’t let this chance slip by.” That’s when I realize. I know deep down inside, he might be right. As much as it physically hurts me to say it. He’s right. “Just think about what we spoke about, kid. Give it some time. This is a big decision, so make sure you’re making the right one.” He pats my leg and leaves me alone with my thoughts. My own mind is my own worst enemy right now.
I didn’t even hear the water turn off, telling me Ryan has ended his shower time. I was staring at the jersey hanging directly across from me when he enters.
There is an awkward silence, something that I don’t want to be part of. Nothing was said between us. I decide to ignore him and slip into the showers alone to cleanse myself. Showers always help me clear my mind.
Basically, they have given me an ultimatum. Her or football. But why can’t I have both? It’s greedy, but possible.
I’m in love with her. Is that not enough? Why do I have to choose between two things I love the most? How is this fair? Why me? Why me and not TJ?
Once I switch on the shower, I let the water soak my skin. My pores open up to breathe.
My irritation spikes, so I punch the wall and feel my knuckle crack. I spin around and throw my shower gel at the opposite wall with so much force. I yell at it for being such a nuisance. Then I launch my shampoo after it. I’m so tired right now.
“Fuck this shit,” I mutter to the floor before squatting down and sitting with my back to the wall. The sound of the water splashing against the cold tiles of the locker room shower saturates the air.
My mind unravels from this, this fucking decision that will ruin my life. I know I won’t be happy either way. I need both. I need them both in my life.
But I know I can’t have her.
If I don’t end it, my dad will. It’ll be better coming from me, even when I don’t want to do it.
I don’t want to be another guy to break her heart. I can’t bear the thought of breaking her heart. I can’t bear the thought of her moving on. The thought of her with another guy sets me off again. She belongs to me. She belongs with me. Nobody else, and that’s final.
But what do I do?
Do I leave football? Or do I leave her?
What do I do?
After an hour of sulking in the locker room and shower, I had now reverted to sulking in my car as I drive myself home and park on the curb outside the house. I’ve felt nothing but fury this whole time since the conversation. The conversation that has single handily ruined my day and probably my thought process. As I stomp up to the front door to open it up, I see the rowdy guys chanting and jumping around like idiots; idiots I don’t have time for.
“Man, you’re such a fucking moron, Whitemill.” I don’t even look up to see who said it. I don’t care all I want is to be alone today.
“Whatever . . . I was drunk,” Whitemill grumbles back while a loud eruption of laughter breaks out in the living room. I’m not interested, so I shove my way through the guys hanging around the hallways between the kitchen and living room.
“Yo! Nick, you good?” Rob asks, pulling on my sleeve. I yank it back out of his grip.
“Leave me alone,” I grumble as I turn on my heel to give him a threatening look.
“I’m just asking—”
“Rob, leave it.” The last person I thought that would’ve left me alone would be Ryan. The last person I thought would stick up for me and let me be.
“Uhh . . .” Rob stares back and forth between the two of us, confused as to why Ryan has taken my side. “Alright.” Rob backs away and I continue my travel to my room. Once I’m in the safety of my own room, I lose it.
I slam my bag against the wall, cracking the glass on the picture hanging and letting it fall after my gym bag. I pick up a football and throw it at the bookcase beside the window. I pull out the lamp that was sitting on the study desk and throw that at the wall too, shattering the glass contents of the bulb. It’s then my door bursts open to reveal a stunned TJ. He races over to stop me from flipping the table, restraining me against the wall.
“Nick!” he calls my name, but it’s a blur. I’m an angry, frustrated, raging machine. I can hear mumbling from people. All I want to do is punch someone or something. So, I start swinging at him, and he slams me harder against the wall with my two arms aggressively trying to get to him. I know in my mind he’s got nothing to do with the situation, but I can’t help my emotions.
I’ve lost control.
