Page 102 of Our Secret Moments

Fuck. Our. Lives.

THIRTY-SEVEN

CONNOR

WINNER-WINNER CHICKEN DINNER

Ever since westarted playing football, before the start of our final game, we’d all have breakfast with our parents in one of the empty classrooms at the school. When we were in little leagues, we’d have a pep talk in the locker room whilst our parents tied up our laces and told us that it didn’t matter if we lost.

It got better when we grew up and winning actually mattered. We could tie our own laces and the pep talks would last a little longer. The same thing happened last year before our first college final and it paid off.

This time, everything feels wrong.

The tension between Wes and Coach Mackenzie is lethal. Olivia called in ‘sick’ though only Wes and I know what happened. We’ve all been so caught up with our own shit that we would have noticed the signs a lot earlier. I always thought it was weird how their relationship seemed to be a little too friendly. It makes sense now that she went out when we were at one of the away games and I spent the evening in the hotel room she shared with Cat.

I can’t even look at him without feeling sick to my stomach.

Wes has always kept his relationship with his dad to himself, but there have been times where they’d have arguments and he’d never tell me why. He’d just turn up to my house one day, spend the night and go back the next morning like everything was fine.

Coach never made it seem like anything was wrong, either. He’d coach the team the next day and not act like he kicked his son out the night before. He’s not a violent or angry person by any means, there’s just some parts to his and Wes’s dynamic that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to understand.

Like right now as he talks to Wes with one hand on his shoulder in the corner of the room whilst Wes’s eyes face the ground. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but it looks like some sort of lecture whilst my parents yap on in front of me.

My mom nervously nibbles on a scone whilst my dad sips on the coffee that he’s been nursing since they got here. It’s a good and sweet tradition for the most part. As we’ve all got used to playing under the pressure, the parent’s all seem to have gotten more anxious over the years.

“You know what you’ve got to do if you get tackled to the ground, don’t you? You just get right back up and show the other team what you’re made of,” my mom says, sounding as serious as ever. I shake my head at her, knowing what she’s like.

“I know, mom,” I repeat for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Yes,mom,” my dad mocks, bumping his shoulder into hers, “he knows.” I nod, holding my chin high. “We know you’ve got this, Con. You’re incredible on and off the pitch. This isn’t going to be any different.”

“Win or lose, we’ll all be cheering for you in the stands,” my mom adds, her smile bright and triumphant.

She manages to put this insane amount of faith in me that I just want to bottle it up and carry it around forever. When my parents look at me it feels I’m a star they’re wishing upon. As ifI’m something magical and out-of-this-world that they need to pray and wish on for it to soar.

Months ago, that would have completely frightened me at the thought of the weight of the team resting all on me, but now, I’ve become comfortable with the idea of just doing my best. I’ve done all I can prepping and training. I’ve tried to keep the team in line as best as I can, but it isn’t up to just me how we perform. It’s how we, as a team, can work together and kick the other team’s asses.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and Catherine’s contact name flashes across the screen. I pull out my chair, excusing myself from the conversation with my parents and my dad gives me a wink. That man knows too much about my love-life without me saying a word.

Just the sound of Cat’s voice soothes me as we exchange hello’s.

“How are you feeling? I heard there’ll be a reporter from the Fort Morgan’s Times at the game and some scouts too,” she says in a teasing tone.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve done more than enough prep with you to know how to deal with a few questions,” I say easily. “Speaking of, when can I see the final report?”

She tuts. “Not yet. It needs some revisions and I need to bring it to my professor for some proofreading, but soon.” I hum in response, impatiently wanting to know more than just the snippets she’s shown the team over the last few months. “Good luck. You’re going to kill it.”

“Thank you. I’ll be looking in the stands for you. I’ll help us win just for you,” I whisper, making my voice sound extra sweet and I swear I canhearher rolling her eyes.

“Win for yourself, Connie, not me,” she replies. There’s a brief moment of complete silence on her end as if the phone isbeing cut off before she speaks again. “Ugh. My dad has been calling me all day. I’m going to have to answer it.”

“What’s been going on?”

“I don’t know. We didn’t speak much after Christmas, but he’s been weird since he called that day at your dorm when I left. He’s saying that we need to talk, but I don’t know what about,” she explains, sounding tired at just the thought of having a conversation with him.

“Huh,” I murmur. “I hope everything is okay. I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll see you. When you see a crazy lady in the stands with your jersey on screaming like a lunatic, you’ll know it’s me,” she says. I laugh at the image she creates. I’ve been wanting to see her in my jersey for fucking years now and hopefully when I have her in my arms after the game, we will have won and she’ll be cheering my name. “And, Connor?”

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