Game Day Box Set: A College Football Romance

by Lily Cahill

  “No, sir.”

  The object is totally out of place. Sparkly. Rhinestones. It’s the mug Lou gave her dad for Christmas.

  Lou. I screwed that up too. We both did.

  “No. It’s not fair,” Coach says. “And it’s for them, West. For them, that I’m letting you play. Not for you.”

  My mind snaps to attention. “You’re letting me keep my spot?”

  “Yes,” he says. His voice finally dropping to a normal level. “But I do not appreciate being put in this position.”

  “I understand. Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.”

  “You better not.”

  “I swear it to you.”

  “Good. Now tell me one thing,” he says, sitting on the edge of his desk and reaching for that mug. He notices me staring at it. “My daughter gave it to me. She thinks she’s a goddamn comedian.” His tone is gruff but there’s a light dancing in his eyes.

  I know that light. It’s something Lou put there. I miss it. But there’s no undoing what I did. There’s no unsaying what she said. And I’m not sure how to forget any of it.

  “So tell me, kid. Where the hell were you?”

  “Sir?” For a moment, I think he’s asking me what I was just thinking about.

  “You didn’t sleep in your hotel room. That’s for goddamn sure,” he says. “So where did you sleep? You didn’t fall in with one of those jersey chasers, did you? I thought you had more integrity than that.”

  He thinks I have integrity. Even after all this mess. I suddenly feel like such a piece of shit. I don’t have integrity. I haven’t been honest with him for months. Myself either. And especially not with Lou. She was right. I’m fucking afraid of everything.

  “I wasn’t with a jersey chaser, sir. I was ….” My voice trails off. I realize I’m at a crossroads. Right now. And I don’t want to build a life out of lies and fear. I want to be stronger than that. I want to be the man she expected me to be, even if it’s too late for it to mean anything to her. “I was with Lou, sir. I was with your daughter.”

  He seems frozen in place, the mug half-raised to his mouth.

  “We’ve been dating for a couple months, but we’re not together anymore.”

  “Months?” he says. His voice is quiet, but it’s somehow more intimidating than when he’s shouting.

  “Yes, sir. I really cared about her.”

  “There is only one thing I care about more than this team,” he says. “And that’s my daughter.”

  He sets the coffee cup down. It lands with a thud.

  “You abused my trust. And I can’t work with someone who I don’t trust.” He stands, turns his back to me. “You’re benched. I’m giving your spot to Carter. And if I were you, I wouldn’t expect to see my name on the roster next year. Now get the hell out of my office.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Lou

  The night is pitch dark and cold, cold, cold. I’m standing on top of a steep hill and there’s laughter all around me. Brett is here, Brooke too, and a whole bunch of other people. Some of them I know, some of them I don’t.

  The only other sound comes from the speeding cars on the highway below. I can see them. Sort of. They look like zippy streaks of light.

  I’m trying very hard not to think about the last time I was in the snow—West’s arms wrapped around me, our after-tumble kisses. It’s not working very well. A bottle of Fireball makes its way over to me and I take a drink. The hot cinnamon stings going down, but it warms me up.

  “The trick is to take a sharp right before you hit the bottom. Otherwise, you’ll end up on I-70,” Brett says as he straps me into skis. “That would suck.”

  “No shit,” I say.

  “Wouldn’t be a bet if there wasn’t a little bit of danger,” my opponent says. He’s an idiot. The kind of guy who gives frat boys their reputation. I think his name is Chad. Or Tad. Or Brad. It’s something-ad. Vlad? Who cares? All I know is that he was dumb enough to challenge me. Little does he know, I am awesome. Especially on skis.

  “The winner is the one who makes it the farthest without turning,” Brett says.

  The pot is up to two grand. For a 30-second ride down a slightly-harder-than-bunny-slope hill. It’ll be the easiest money I’ve ever made.

  “Oh my God. You guys are crazy,” Brooke says giddily, gripping Brett’s arm. “Aren’t they so crazy, babe?”

  “That’s just the way you roll when you’ve got balls as big as mine,” Mr. Ad says.

  “Are you done pissing on the fire hydrant or do you want to keep putting this off?” I ask. My words come out a little slurred, but I think I’ve made my point because wittle Brad looks mad. And sad.

  I giggle. Good one, self.

  “Whatever,” the Bad Lad Vlad says.

  Zing!

  “Let’s do this.” Without warning, he takes off down the hill. He’s tall and bulky, but making good time. Too bad for him, this isn’t a speed contest. He veers way before reaching the bottom, and I know I have this thing locked up. Still, the idiots cheer.

  Once he’s out of the way, I hand the Fireball off and take my stance. Tucked. Low. Strong. Well, mostly strong. I might have slipped a little bit.

  Doesn’t matter.

  I take off.

  The wind is crisp on my face and I love the feeling of it. I try to focus on the ground to see where Rad Chad left marks, but it’s kind of hard. It’s dark. And I’m going fast. And my eyes are refusing to focus right.

  Then I catch it: the curve of his imprint in the snow, veering to the right. I pass it, easy. Now all I have to do is turn, and the two grand is mine.

  But I decide to hold out just a little bit longer. I want to show the Glad Cad Tad how much worse than me he really is. So I keep going.

  The bottom closes in fast.

  There’s barely a lip to the edge of the hill before the highway starts. And all of a sudden, I realize I’m going really, really fast.

  Too fucking fast.

  I veer right, but it’s too late and too sharp and I fall.

  My body skids straight into the road.

  I see headlights. I hear horns. But my skis are tangled and I can’t move and I—

  Something big and yellow hits my ski and hurls me through the air, straight toward the median.

  I see the concrete right before my face smacks into it.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Lou

  MY EYES BLINK OPEN TO the sound of beeping. Constant beeping and bright, bright light shining straight into my eyeballs.

  “Hey there. How are you feeling?” somebody says. It’s a woman’s voice. Everything looks blurry.

  “Head … hurts,” I say. And my mouth feels like cotton.

  “What’s your name? Do you know what your name is?”

  “Lou,” I squeak out. “Louisa Angelica Prescott.”

  “And what day is it?”

  “Thursday,” I say. “Where am I?”

  “The hospital. I’m Dr. Beckman. Can you tell me who the president is?”

  “Obama.” Her face starts to come into focus. She looks Hispanic. Her hair is black and glossy and her skin is a warm brown.

  “And what’s the last thing you remember?”

  “Vlad,” I say. She looks confused, so I say something else. “Skis. Highway.”

  “Good, good. We’re going to do a couple of tests now, Lou.”

  She has me touch my nose and wiggle my toes and turn my head. She pokes my feet in different places and asks me if I feel it. I feel everything. Every muscle in my body feels bruised and battered and torn.

  “I’m gonna let you sit up now, Lou,” she says. “You might feel dizzy. If you need to vomit, there’s a bowl right here, okay?”

  I sit up, and sure enough, my stomach immediately revolts. I barely grab the bowl in time. It’s humiliating to puke in front of a stranger.

  “Better out than in,” the doc says.

  Finally, my stomach is empty and I’m in control again.

>   “You’re a very, very lucky girl, you know that?” she says, but doesn’t wait for an answer. Any trace of a sweet, caring tone is gone. “You’ve got some nasty road rash and a hell of a concussion. But, lucky for you, no one else was hurt by your little stunt either.”

  Other people. The realization hits me hard. I could’ve really hurt someone.

  Jesus. What was I thinking? I wasn’t thinking at all. I was drunk. I was stupid.

  “Everyone’s okay?” I ask, just to make sure I heard her right.

  “Thankfully, it was late and there was barely any traffic. Everyone else walked away without even a scratch,” she says. “So you have a choice. We can either send you home with someone who can keep an eye on you for the next twenty-four hours. Otherwise we’ll have to keep you for observation overnight. Do you have anyone in town?”

  “My friends,” I say. “They’re probably waiting for me.”

  “I’m afraid not,” Dr. Beckman says. “You arrived alone and I was told there was no one else at the scene when the ambulance arrived.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask. Did those assholes just leave me there to die?

  “Yes. Is there anyone else we can call?”

  West, I want to say. I want to see West. I want to see him and tell him he was right. I’m dangerous to everyone around me. I fucked up. And that one fuckup could have changed everything. I could have actually killed myself or somebody else.

  The thought pounds into my mind again. I could have killed someone tonight.

  I thought I could handle this. I thought I was in control. But I’m not. I’m so not. How long has it been this way? Tears spring to my eyes. I feel like a baby, but I can’t help myself. I just want to cry. I want to see West, and I want to sleep, and I want to cry.

  “Ms. Prescott?” Dr. Beckman nudges.

  “My dad,” I say. “You can call my dad.”

  “Please say something, Dad.”

  We’ve been in the car for two hours and he’s barely said a word to me. He drove three hours to get here in the middle of the night. Now he’s driving us back, winding our way down the mountains with the sun barely rising ahead of us.

  “I think you already know everything I have to say to you right now.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m really, really sorry. Just, please talk to me.”

  “What would you like me to say, Lou? Would you like me to tell you everything’s okay? Because it’s not. You could have done some major damage tonight.”

  “I know. You were right.”

  “You know what really gets me about all this? It’s your mom. She had her life stolen from her. And here you are, pissing yours away.”

  His words slam into me harder than the concrete barrier. He’s right. I’ve never, ever thought about things that way. All this time I’ve been trying to be wild while I still can, thinking I’m going to die. And what I really should have been doing was living. She couldn’t. But I can.

  “You’re right,” I say. It’s a struggle to get the words past the tears in my throat. “I let things get out of control. I thought I could handle it, but I wasn’t handling it. And I’m so, so sorry. It’ll be different now.”

  “How? What exactly are you going to change? I need to hear your plan, Lou. Not your promises.”

  He’s right. He deserves that.

  “I’m done drinking. At least until the end of the school year. I need to get my head on straight about that before I try again.”

  “And?” he asks.

  “And I’m going to stop hanging out with the people I was with last night. And anyone else like them. I’m going to spend more time with Nara and her boyfriend. And Caroline. And only the Kappa girls who I can really trust.”

  “What else?”

  “I’m going to focus harder on my studies. I’m capable of a 4.0. That’s what I should be doing from now until graduation.”

  “Okay. What about that sorority of yours?”

  “I’m staying there, Dad. It’s important to me. And I’ve made a commitment to those women. They’re my team. I can’t just leave.”

  “I don’t like you being in that environment. They’re party girls. It’s not good for you.”

  “It wasn’t the Kappas that made those choices. It was me.”

  For once, he doesn’t argue. “What about boys?” he asks.

  “You don’t need to worry about that either,” I say. There’s only one boy I want, and he doesn’t want me.

  “Were you ever going to tell me about West?” he asks.

  I turn to look at him. “You knew?”

  “He told me. The day we got back from the playoffs.”

  West told him. He actually told him. I can’t believe it.

  “That was a betrayal, Lou. And you know it.”

  I take my time before I speak. I need him to understand this time. I need him to hear me. “You had me backed into a corner, Dad. Scaring off every guy I met like that? What else did you want me to do?”

  He doesn’t say anything. I take it as a good sign. At least he’s listening.

  “I’m trying to figure out how to be an adult. And you smothering me like you have been isn’t helping. I need to go on bad dates. I need to make some mistakes. Maybe not as big as tonight, but I need to make them. And I need to make them on my own. I need to figure out what I want and what I don’t. And I can’t do that if you keep interfering.”

  He’s still quiet. I stay quiet too. I’ve said what I need to say.

  “I work with college boys, Lou. And I know how they think. It’s not easy to know how they see you. Especially at this school. Especially after what happened last year.”

  “I understand that,” I say. “And I want to be able to talk to you about this stuff. To get your advice. You’re my dad. But I can’t have you shooting down every person I date. And I can’t have you showing up every time I go out.”

  “That’s … that’s fair,” he finally concedes. “But can you promise to be honest with me, going forward?” he asks. “I want to know who you’re with and I want to know you get home safe every night. Can you at least do that?”

  “Yes,” I say. “I can do that.”

  “Alright then.”

  I think he means it. I think he finally understands.

  I’m dying to know something else. “So West told you, huh?” I ask.

  “Yes. And I’ve already handled him.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “West won’t be playing for the Mustangs anymore.”

  My heart sinks. “What? Dad, you can’t do that.”

  “One big mistake I can handle. Not two. And not when it’s a betrayal of my trust.”

  “I asked him not to tell you. That was me, not him. And him showing up late to the airport? That was completely my fault too. I promised to be the designated driver that night. He asked me to make sure he got back to the hotel on time, but then I started drinking and I fell asleep.” I omit the other details. Dads don’t need to know everything. “I’m the one who messed up. It’s why he broke up with me.”

  “Then he’s a double fool.”

  “Seriously, Dad. He’s never messed up before. Are you really going to punish him like that? Football means everything to him. That scholarship means everything to him. You can’t just kick him off the team.”

  “It’s a matter of trust. And it’s already been done.”

  “Please. You’re not just kicking him off the team, you’re ending his career. If he doesn’t play next year, he won’t be eligible for the combine. He won’t get drafted. He’ll have to try for a walk-on spot. I’m begging you. Don’t punish him for my mistakes.”

  “It’s not your business, Lou.”

  “Yes, it is. You’re lashing out at him because of me. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

  “Why are you fighting so hard for this kid? I thought he broke up with you.”

  “Because he doesn’t deserve that. It’s not fair to him.”

  My dad is silent.
But this silence is clear. He’s telling me the conversation is over. And his opinion hasn’t budged one bit.

  “What if …” I say, wracking my brain. I pull out the only bargaining chip I have left. “What if I moved out of the Kappa house and moved in with you? Would you give him his place back?”

  Still, he doesn’t say anything.

  “I’d move tomorrow. I’d promise to stay in your house until I graduate.”

  “Until you graduate?” he asks.

  “The rest of this year and next year too.”

  He hesitates for a moment, then he says one word. It’s the only word I need to hear. “Deal.”

  But I know this conversation isn’t over. I made a promise. And I’ve been avoiding it for weeks. I have to tell him. And if I don’t do it now, I might never do it.

  “There’s one more thing,” I say, pulling together every ounce of courage in my body. “I promised I’d be honest with you, and there’s something I should have told you a long time ago. My doctor gave me a genetic test. It came back positive.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  West

  TODAY IS IT. MY CHANCE to finally redeem myself. After this, nothing will ever be the same. I scan the room, looking at all the guys—my friends, my family, loyal to the end. And all I can feel is lucky.

  I don’t know why Coach changed his mind about me, and I probably never will. He hasn’t spoken to me once since I got the news. All my coaching and drills have come through the assistant coaches. He still seems angry, and it’s made the last few weeks awkward and uncomfortable. But I’m here. Somehow, some way, I’m here. And I’ll always be grateful to him for that.

  I stand, and step up onto the bench. “Hey!” I yell. “I have something to say.”

  All their heads turn to me.

  “This is our last game of the season. And I want to say thank you. Thank you for every drop of sweat you’ve left on that field. Thank you for driving me to get better when I couldn’t tell my ass from my elbow out there. And thanks for all the cowboy jokes, too. You guys are all assholes.”

  They all laugh. Some of them holler insults at me.

  “Anyway, no matter what happens out there today, I just want you all to know that this team has meant everything to me, and I’ll never forget that. I’m a Mustang for life,” I say. Then I shout. “Can’t stop the stampede!”