Page 29 of Fair Catch
But I knew I couldn’t keep that up forever.
And I wondered if the team that had slowly started accepting me would toss me out into the snow once I failed them.
“No one is perfect in football,” Gavin said, as if he were reading my mind. “Not even Tom Brady — though he’s pretty damn close.”
I tried to smile, but it fell flat. “I’m just glad you’ll be in the stands for this next one. I’ll need you there.”
“Wouldn’t miss it. Gelato in the North End after?”
“Duh.”
Gavin smiled. “Alright, get back to studying. I expect all A’s on your report card this semester, missy.”
I gave him a sweet smile and a strong middle finger before cutting the video off, and then I flipped over to the tab with my study guide on it, sighing as I got back to work.
Mid-terms were just around the corner, and for the first time in my life, I was struggling with school. The content itself wasn’t bad, but the amount of work piled on top of my already full athletic schedule was taxing. I was glad to have the dorm quiet and a full night to study with a late report for practice in the morning.
At least, it was quiet — until the front door swung open and Zeke waltzed in with an entire fucking parade.
My bedroom door was shut, but the walls were paper-thin, and I heard a mixture of voices from the team and those of girls I didn’t recognize. They stumbled into the living room, laughing and talking loud enough you’d think they were in a crowded bar instead of an empty dorm. I didn’t know what annoyed me more, the deep bass of the guys’ voices, or the incessant giggles from the girls.
Music blasted from Zeke’s room in the next instant, and I sighed, yanking my top drawer open to retrieve my headphones and hastily shoving the earbuds in. I preferred silence when I studied, but lo-fi would have to do.
I had to crank up the volume to an insufferable level in order to drown out the noise coming from the living room, but even then, it was no use. Bursts of loud laughter or thumping like they were fucking wrestling would break through the calm beats in my earbuds, and I found myself reading the same paragraph ten times and still not retaining anything.
It’s fine, I tried to tell myself. Just block out the noise like you do during a game. Focus on what’s in front of you. Don’t blow up. It’s fine.
But when there was another loud thump against my wall and a chorus of laughter, all attempts at calm went up in the smoke billowing out of my ears.
I ripped my earbuds out, stomping over to my door and yanking it open.
All the eyes in the room snapped to me, the girls mostly shocked and confused by my presence in a football dorm, no doubt, and the guys from the team already amused before I could speak my annoyance.
“Could you all keep it down, please?” I asked through gritted teeth as politely as I could manage. “Trying to study.”
Zeke peeked out from the kitchen, where he currently had shot glasses lined up and a bottle of Fireball Whisky perched beside them. I noted that there were only seven shot glasses but eight people, and through my annoyance I idly wondered if Zeke still didn’t drink.
He’d sworn off alcohol after that night of the accident, but I never thought that vow would last — especially not in college.
His eyes widened a bit when he saw me. “Oh, shit… you have that test coming up.”
The fact that he remembered that I’d been stressing about this exam and still brought a crowd of people over to our dorm on the only early night and late report morning of the week made my blood boil more. I tried to cool myself before I spouted off a rude response, but I couldn’t help it.
“Yes, and unlike you, I actually have a chance of graduating with a degree. So, if you could take your party somewhere else, that’d be great.”
I was already on my way to shutting the door again when Zeke’s brows furrowed, and he jogged over, his hand shooting out to catch the door before I could shut it.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what I said. Not all of us have pipe dreams of being in the NFL and have put all our eggs in that basket. Some of us actually have aspirations off the field.”
“And you don’t think I do?”
“What are your grades right now?” I probed, crossing my arms. “I haven’t seen you open a textbook since we got here. You sleep through half your classes. Have you even started on that Econ paper that’s worth seventy percent of your grade?”
