Page 50 of Fair Catch
I didn’t know what was coming over me.
All I knew was that something had changed.
I was in my head one evening after practice, packing up my shit in silence when Riley bumped me from behind.
“I need to study and work on an assignment that’s due in a couple days,” she said, not really looking at me as she shrugged on a loose t-shirt over her sports bra. “You should join. I know you have that test in Statistics coming up.”
I groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
“Well, someone has to or you’re going to show up unprepared,” she said with a laugh. She shrugged her duffel bag onto her shoulder. “Come on. I can help.”
I sighed, shoving the last of my stuff into my own bag before forcefully zipping it up.
“Don’t be such a baby,” she teased. “I’ll grab some pizza on the way home.”
I grumbled. “I still hate you.”
That earned me a laugh, and then she looked back at me with honey-green eyes, her damp hair falling over her shoulders.
“No, you don’t,” she said, sticking her tongue out.
But I couldn’t smile at the joke.
Because she was right.
I didn’t.
And it struck me in that moment how much of a problem that was.
Riley
“This is dumb and makes no sense.”
Zeke threw his pencil down, scooting back in his chair before slumping into it with his angry eyes focused on the textbook in front of him.
I gave him a sympathetic pat on the arm. “It’s not that bad. You just have to think of it in terms of betting, kind of. Like the odds of something happening.”
“That also makes no sense to me.”
I chuckled. “Well, then why did you sign up for this class?”
“Because Mrs. Pierson told me to?” He shrugged, as if that was obvious.
“Okay, but did you tell her what you want to major in?”
“I don’t care,” he said quickly. “Football is my real major.”
I rolled my lips together, setting my own pencil aside as I angled toward him. “Okay, just playing devil’s advocate here, because we both know you’ll go pro,” I prefaced. “But… what if you didn’t have football. What would you want to do?”
“Die.”
All emotion slipped off my face. “Don’t even joke like that.”
“Honestly?” He finally looked at me then. “I don’t know if that is a joke.”
I frowned, looking at the textbook in front of him for a long moment. “Look, I know that’s your plan A, B, and C. I’m just saying, rather than getting a business major because that’s what they said to do, what if you majored in something you like? Something that could be a fallback plan?”
“Like what?”
I shrugged. “Sports management. Physical education. Sports psychology.” I brightened at that one. “Honestly, you’d be perfect at that. Look at how much you’ve already helped me.”
He smirked. “I think you kicking Kyle’s ass is what helped you.”
“I wouldn’t have had the balls to even make that bet if it weren’t for you.”
His brows shot up, and he leaned over, glancing between my legs. “You’ve got balls?”
I elbowed him hard in the ribs, earning me a satisfying grunt. “Anyway,” I said, bringing him back to the subject at hand. “I’m serious. Go see Mrs. Pierson and talk to her about what you really want to do, what you’re interested in.” I waited until he caught his breath and looked at me again. “You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for. And I bet you’d surprise even yourself if you had the right content in front of you.”
Something of a shadow passed over him, but he shook it off, leaning forward and grabbing his pencil. “Alright. Let’s get back to it.”
I let him drop the subject, focusing on my own study guide for a while before Zeke huffed again. He squared his shoulders, sitting up nice and tall before he began studying again.
Only to repeat the process.
“Why are you so agitated?”
“I’m always like this when it comes to schoolwork.”
“I know. But why?”
He blew out a long breath, grabbing the back of his neck with one hand. His eyes skated to mine before they fell back to his textbook. “It’s just different for me.”
“What is?”
“This,” he said, thrusting an open hand toward the textbook. “Studying. Reading. Writing. Anything related.”
I shook my head. “I don’t understand. I mean, I know it’s not exactly fun but—”
“I’m dyslexic, Riley.”
His words shocked me silent, and I frowned, tossing the word over in my mind like a coin. I couldn’t make heads or tails of it though. I knew of the learning disorder, had heard of it, but I didn’t personally know anyone with it.
At least… I didn’t know I knew someone with it.
“I… had no idea.”
“Not many do,” he said. “My parents. Teachers. Gavin.” He shrugged. “I don’t like to talk about it.”
“What does it mean?” I balked. “Oh God, that was rude. You don’t have to answer that.”
