by Hannah Gray
A social studies nerd? Totally my type. I mean, I suppose I don’t have a type, since I’ve never had a boyfriend, but I feel like he would be right up my alley. Or I should say, he should be right up my alley.
“English,” I say with a proud smile.
He stuffs his hands in his pockets and nods. A welcoming grin remains on his face. “That’s sweet. Do you go to NEU?”
“I do. Do you?” I ask with genuine curiosity.
It would be cool if we came from the same school. He seems like a nice enough guy.
“Yes, ma’am. Transferred last year from Texas.”
That causes me to chuckle. “That makes sense.”
He smiles knowingly, his eyes twinkling. “What makes sense?”
I wave my hand toward him. “The accent. It, uh … makes sense you came from the South.”
He laughs and leans against the wall. “Oh, yes. Hard to hide it, I suppose.”
He shouldn’t hide it. A voice like that deserves to be heard.
Before I can answer, the sound of heels approaching us reaches my ears. Turning around, I see a gorgeous redhead in a black pencil skirt and a white button-up. She appears to be in her early thirties.
Holding her hand out to each of us, she smiles. “Colton, Memphis, welcome. I’m Principal Jenkins.” She turns toward solely me. “Memphis, I’ll be taking you to Amy Dillion, the English teacher you’ll be working with.”
Turning to face Colton, she remains completely unaffected by his insane good looks. Though I suppose the gigantic ring on her finger means she’s a taken woman. Still, it’s hard not to at least give a guy like him a second glance. “Colton, you’ll be with Russel Linde. He’s our social studies teacher. You’ll love him. He’s a hoot.”
We follow her to meet the teachers we will be spending the next six weeks with.
I can’t stop the smile that forms on my lips. I’m so excited to dive in and get my feet wet in the teaching department. My only hope is that these students don’t chew me up and spit me out. Yeah … right.
Zipping my jacket up even higher and stuffing my hands into my pockets, I walk toward my car. Unable to stop the smile from spreading across my face. It felt so nice to be on the teaching side of an actual classroom instead of sitting at a desk, taking notes. I’m so close to my future career that I can almost taste it.
Almost to my car, I see a black BMW packed with teenage guys approaching. One whistles, and another hoots.
Ignoring them, I grab my keys out of my bag and unlock my car.
“Yo, sexy!” an arrogant voice yells.
The other yells to his friends, “Hey, I’ve always had a teacher fantasy. You think she’s game?”
“I don’t know, but goddamn, I bet she knows what she’s doing. And look at that a—”
Whipping around so fast that my hair hits me in my face, I march toward their car.
I instantly recognize these little jerks. Well, two of them anyway.
“Gavin Jacobs, Henry Sawyer,” I say their names, pointing to each of them, letting them know I know exactly who they are. “While I’m here, you’ll treat me as you would any other teacher or faculty. You got that, boys?”
I figured I would see the BMW—aka rich prick’s car—whizzing off.
Instead, the one in the driver’s seat only smirks. “Oh, come on. You know you’re into it. And besides,” he continues, “you aren’t even a teacher.”
I’m about to lose my shit on these assholes when, suddenly, a voice comes from behind me.
“We all good here, fellas?”
Turning around, I find Colton standing with his very large arms folded over his chest.
“Oh yeah. We’re all good. We were just telling Miss Montgomery here to have a good weekend,” the slimeball with the gelled hair says from the passenger seat.
“Good. Run along now, boys. Wouldn’t want you getting into trouble now, would we?”
A few scoffs and snarls come our way, but luckily, they drive away. I note the license plate says MNYTLKS.
Wow. Money talks. Could this kid be any more of a douche?
Turning toward me, Colton asks, “You all right?”
I nod and wave my hand. “I’m fine. Those boneheads can’t get to me.” I realize how incredibly rude it is that I have yet to thank him. “Thank you, by the way. For dealing with them.” I jerk my thumb toward the quickly disappearing black car.
“No big deal. High school kids can be … difficult,” he says and chuckles.
He isn’t wrong. They can be downright disrespectful.
“You could say that.” I sigh. “But even so, I had a great first day,” I say honestly.
He smiles, watching me intently. “I’m glad to hear that.”
After more small talk, I take a few steps back, nodding my head toward my car. “I should probably get going. Have a good weekend.”
I swear I see a hint of disappointment, but he bounces back quickly with a dazzling smile. “You too.”
I wave and have my hand on my door.
“Hey, Memphis?”
“Yes?” I say, turning back toward him.
“It was nice to meet you. Glad there’s another NEU student here with me. Not just a bunch of spoiled, rich high schoolers,” he says and holds his hand up, waving good-bye.
I smile.
He might be easy on the eyes, but I have no interest in Colton romantically. But it will be really nice to have someone to hang out with during lunch breaks and things like that. Besides, he seems like a good guy.
And not bad to look at either.
twenty-one
Lane
I look around the locker room, taking in how tense most of my teammates look. Mason—who is known to joke about absolutely everything, constantly pulling pranks on everyone—looks like he’s about to piss himself.
Grady, who is cocky as hell, is as pale as a sheet and looks sweaty.
Fuck, these guys are nervous.
“You good, man?” Trent says, appearing at my side. Looking cool as a cucumber, as always.
I knew he wouldn’t get to the championship game and choke up. He’s too focused. That field is where he belongs, and he knows it.
I nod and slap him on the back. “I’m good”—I gaze around the locker room again—“but we might be the only ones.”
He sighs. “They look like they are going to shit themselves.”
“Time to get them pumped up.”
Hitting his helmet against mine, he nods. “Go for it.”
Trent’s great at keeping his team in line, but he isn’t one for speeches. Mason, well, he’d probably make it five seconds without making some stupid-ass joke, and then he would be laughing at himself. So, usually, when we need it, I’m the one to amp us up.
Putting my fingers in my mouth, I whistle. Everyone turns to me. The talking stops. The music on their phones stops. Everything stops besides a few feet that tap nervously.
“Right about now, I think a lot of us are feeling the pressure of this game.” I look around the room. “Am I right about that?”
A few nods, and some just watch me, probably not wanting to show how anxious they really are. Not wanting to look like pansies.
“The team we’re going against, boys, they are good, no doubt”—I grin—“really fucking good. I mean, they made it here, didn’t they?”
I look at all my teammates, my brothers, my family. Most of us have spent the past three or four years together. Winning together, losing together.
“But you know one thing they don’t have?” I pause. “They don’t have the bond that we do. They don’t have the heart that we do. And guess what else? They might love this game, but I guaran-fucking-tee that they don’t love it as much as we do.
“They might want this win. Hell, they probably want it more than their next breath. But guess what, boys. We want it more.”
They all nod their heads. Some stand up from the bench they were sitting on, and a few clap slowly. I see their nerves begin to
dissipate.
Stepping up onto the bench, I cup my hands around my mouth and yell, “Who the fuck are we?!”
“N-E-U!”
“And what did we come here to do?”
“Win!”
“What the fuck did you say?!” I yell again.
“Wiiiinnnn!” they all scream.
“N-E-U, N-E-U, N-E-U, N-E-U,” we all chant, smashing our helmets together.
When I turn around, my eyes find Trent’s, and he gives me the smallest smile and tips his chin down. Gazing around the locker room full of players who no longer seem nervous or scared, I look back at him and grin.
Let’s fucking go.
Grabbing my phone, I hook it up to the speaker I brought. I crank up the volume as loud as it will go. “Cut the Cord” by Shinedown screams through the entire room. Getting everyone amped up and ready to destroy our opponent.
How I can be the guys’ voice of reason when I myself am struggling inside probably seems crazy. The thing is though, I am messed up when it comes to some parts of my life, but because I have experienced so much tragedy, I can also see that there are bigger things in life than a football game.
Yeah, I want to win this game more than anything. But I also know that at the end of the day, this is just a game, and I can control how well I play. I can’t control a lot of other things in life. I can’t change the past. But I sure as hell can show up today and do my job and help these guys win what could be the biggest game of their lives.
I’ve fucked up a lot in life. But this right here? This is something I won’t fuck up.
Once the song ends, Trent, Mason, and I lead the boys onto the field. Prepared to go to war and willing to do whatever it takes to win this game.
twenty-two
Memphis
I walk up the sidewalk, arm in arm with Ava, making our way to the frat house.
“Wowsers, it’s cold,” I whine.
“Sure is,” she answers, snapping her gum. “Wish I could find me a big, hunky football player to keep me warm tonight.”
Rolling my eyes, I laugh. “You and your obsession with football players.”
Leaning against me, she sighs. “You have an obsession too. You just try to keep it a secret.”
I choose to ignore her as we get to the door and walk inside. The smell of cigarettes, weed, and booze assaults my nostrils. Oh, and sweat. Lots and lots of sweat.
Gross.
“Memphis! You made it!” I hear a Southern accent say.
Turning toward the living room, I see Colton getting up from the couch.
He wastes no time in pulling me in for a hug.
“I told you I would, didn’t I?”
It’s been a few weeks since I started my student teaching. We’ve had a handful of lunches together as well as walks to our car. He’s becoming a close friend, and the best part is, he doesn’t try to make it something more by hitting on me.
Turning my body toward Ava, I signal between them. “Colton, this is Ava. Ava, Colton.”
“Nice to meet you,” Ava says with a smile.
I don’t miss the way her eyes light up when she looks at him.
“Nice to meet you,” he says before turning his attention back to me. “I have to take care of a few things. I’ll catch up with you in a little bit. Save a dance for me?” he asks, his blue eyes sparkling.
I give him a small nod. “Sounds good.”
Once he walks away, Ava turns to me, pinching my arm.
“Ouch!” I yelp.
“Girl.” She looks at me, eyes wide.
“What?”
“Girl. Oh Mylanta. You didn’t tell me how hot this Colton guy you’ve been spending time with at the school was.” Grabbing my hand, she squeals, and a huge grin overtakes her face. “Memphis! He’s hot. And his accent? My panties just melted off, I think.”
“He is hot. I just don’t think of him that way,” I answer honestly.
She eyes me for a few minutes before finally opening her mouth. “Does he know that?”
I cross my arms, feeling defensive. “I mean, I have never given him a reason to think otherwise.”
She looks at me and finally nods. “Okay, let’s go dance.”
I smile. “Lead the way.”
Lane
“You sure you don’t want to come with us? You could take your tampon out for a few hours, you know. Wouldn’t kill ya,” I joke with Trent and punch his arm. “Besides, you’ve earned it. You know, being second best on the team and all.”
We won our championship game last weekend and could all use a night to blow off some steam. Not like we didn’t do that after the game because we certainly did. But the football team is still the talk around campus after becoming champions, so going to a party sounds like a good idea.
The feeling of winning that game with a group of guys that I consider family was indescribable. I’ll never forget lacing up with all of them that last time. There’s a bond between us that can’t be broken. No one can ever take it from us, no matter what the future holds.
Now that the season’s over, I can go and be a little irresponsible tonight. Without going completely crazy. It’s all a balancing act. I know eyes are still on me. They will be from here on out if I plan to go into the NFL. So, I can’t be out, acting like a complete dumbass.
“Fuck off,” he grunts from the couch. “You fuckers know I feel like shit,” he groans, talking out of his nose.
He came down with a Trent cold yesterday. A Trent cold is a regular cold, only five million times worse. When Trent is sick, it basically means he’s on his death bed. You could say he doesn’t handle being ill that well.
Mason salutes him. “All righty, Cap,” he says, following me toward the front door. “We’ll have a few for you.”
Once we’re outside, Mason mutters to me, “Fuck, man, as sick as he acts, we should have made him soup or some shit.”
I burst out laughing. “Are you fucking with me right now? Soup?” I say, shaking my head. “He’s twenty-two years old, and you want to make his grown ass some soup? You going to whip your titty out and feed him too?”
Holding his middle finger up, he scowls. “Fuck off.”
Our Uber pulls up out front, and we climb in. We both plan to get all sorts of fucked up tonight, and drinking and driving is not our thing. So, Uber is the only way to go.
Ten minutes later, he pulls in front of the frat house.
“Thanks, man.” I nod at him, and he looks like he might shit his pants.
We have this crazy ability to make people nervous without even meaning to. As cocky as it sounds, football players are basically treated like celebrities around here. It gets old. Sometimes, I just want to be like any other ordinary college guy without the pressure of being on the football team.
Mason sighs. “Let’s hope these guys can be normal tonight and not complete douche bags.”
“They are always douche bags, you dumbass. It’s in their DNA or whatever the fuck it is.”
Mason laughs. “True that.”
When we make our way through the front door and inside the house, all eyes turn to us. Guys give us a nod or shake our hands. Chicks always thrust their chests up as high as they can and flutter their lashes, which are way too fucking heavy with that mascara shit. I shouldn’t bitch since I’ll likely choose one to take home. Even if I can’t fucking stand their nasally voices and I think they act too eager. I do it as a distraction from feeling anything. I’m pretty sure Trent and Mason do it because they think it’s just what they are expected to do. They think they are supposed to provide sex to these eager chicks in order to keep their reputation up. That’s never been it for me. I just sometimes strictly need to get hammered and take someone home for the night.
I’ve been much better than I was in previous years. Focusing on my workouts and training, even in the off-season. On weekends, I still like to get a good buzz on. But my goal is no longer to drink till I black out, which is something.
A busty blonde
appears out of nowhere, rubbing herself against me. “Hey, Lane. I miss seeing you in our Finance class,” she purrs and then offers me a beer.
I take it gratefully. I think her name is Amber, but I’m not confident enough on that to commit to it by saying her name back. Sure, she’s hot. Her tan, toned stomach shows beneath the bottom of her tight black shirt. But she smells like she took a bath in her perfume, and she’s wearing too much lipstick. But like I said, she’s hot. I bet she’d be a hell of a time too.
Throwing my arm around her with my free hand, I take a long pull from the beer and give her a lazy wink. “Well, sweetheart, I’ve missed seeing you as well,” I lie through my teeth. But I can tell she doesn’t know it’s a lie. She’s eating it up like candy.
Her eyes widen in obvious surprise. “You-you have?”
“Of course.” I lean into her ear. “Who wouldn’t miss seeing that sexy body?”
She visibly shudders and bites her bottom lip. I don’t think it’s a nervous habit. I think she’s trying to be sexy. Though I’ve got to say, it doesn’t really work.
I could commit to this girl for the night, ask her if she’s game even though I already know she is by the way she’s looking at me. Like I’m fucking ice cream and she hasn’t eaten for days. But the night is young. And honestly, I haven’t brought anyone home since I took that Memphis chick for coffee. I have no idea why or what’s stopping me from getting back to my old ways. But I need to get that girl out of my head, so tonight, I’ll find myself a sweet little something.
Grady comes over and throws his arm around my shoulders. “Fucking Rivers, just who I wanted to see.” His words slur, and he reeks of whiskey. “Let’s do a fuckin’ shot, maaaan.”
I playfully shove him off of me but laugh. “Lead the way, brother. I need a shot.”
I turn toward the blonde, who is waiting patiently for me to invite her to follow. I don’t.
Instead, I give her a polite smile and say, “It was nice seeing you, sweetheart.”
Disappointment covers her face, but she nods and gives me a weak smile.