Page 87 of Fair Catch
But now, he stood just a few feet away, his agony wafting off him and mixing with mine in the space between us.
Every cell in my traitorous body lurched forward, begging me to go to him, to collapse into him, to feel his warmth wrap around me and his lips against my hair as he whispered everything will be okay.
The urge was so powerful my feet stutter-stepped under me before I halted them, before I swallowed down any emotion that wanted to bubble to the surface.
Zeke’s jaw tightened, the muscle of it popping through the skin. His eyes stayed locked on mine, brows bent over them, his entire body tense like if he made even one small move, I’d bolt or tear his head off.
It seemed like an eternity before he stirred, leaning just an inch toward me and opening his mouth to say something.
But I turned before he had the chance, pulling on my helmet and jogging out into the rain.
Zeke
“Boom, bitch!” Gavin yelled, holding up his hands victoriously with the Xbox controller secured in one. He did a little dance, wiggling his hips before promptly framing his crotch with his hands in a suck it motion that I couldn’t help but smirk at.
The fact that the corners of my mouth had managed to curve up at all was a miracle.
“Too easy, man,” he said, giving me a look before we started picking teams for the next game. “Wake up over there. I came for a fair fight, not to beat an already dying horse.”
The smile I’d managed fell, and I couldn’t find the energy to bring it back as I selected the Seattle Seahawks and waited for Gavin to pick who he wanted to play with. Once he was settled on the Colts, we began.
I welcomed the silence that fell between us as we played, how my fingers knew what to do, what controls to push without my brain having to do any work. Any excuse to get out of my head and into my body was welcome nowadays, and truthfully, it was the only way I was surviving.
I missed the blur of the season when I was with Riley, when we were so caught up in each other that every day flew by, and the only thing that kept me grounded in reality were the stolen moments I had with her. Now, life was a blur in a completely different way, in the way it had been for nearly a year after the accident that paralyzed Gavin.
It was a blur of guilt, of suffering, of wishing I was in a nightmare I could wake up from.
No matter how many times I replayed that day in my memory, trying to remember what I’d written in my paper in my haste, it never made sense. I couldn’t remember essentially copying her work, rewording it just enough to think I was smart and had come up with the idea on my own. I really thought I’d written that paper by myself — with her help, of course, but just in the way a tutor would help anyone.
It wasn’t hard to imagine, though, how I could have slipped up and made the mistake. I was so desperate to get in that shower with her that I would have written anything to finish the paper and fast forward to her in my arms.
And that was just the problem.
I didn’t think.
I never did.
Riley was right about me.
It was a sucker punch to the gut any time I thought of it, any time I closed my eyes and saw hers blurred with tears as she told me how I was nothing but selfish, how I would never change.
Here I’d promised her I wouldn’t hurt her, that I could be better than what she’d thought I was for years — only to add wood to the fire and make it burn even hotter.
I knew without begging her for one that there wouldn’t be another chance to prove her wrong, but it didn’t stop me from wanting to throw myself at her feet every time I saw her.
She wasn’t the only one I’d let down, either.
When I told my parents what happened, I could feel their disappointment through the phone. Mom excused herself altogether, while Dad took several silent minutes before he could address me. When he did, it was just a threat to get the paper re-written and stay focused on the bowl game — whichever one was coming.
He also took it as the perfect opportunity to remind me of what he’d drilled into my head my whole life.
“You don’t need to be good at school, son. You just need to get by until your real career starts. Maybe you could change majors, find one a little more… well-suited.”
Well-suited meaning easier.
He called the team advisor right after we ended our call, without asking me, and before I could even think of a reason to argue it, my major was changed, a tutor assigned, and my focus re-aligned just like Pops wanted.
