Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 130380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
The North Carolina Panthers were playing their first preseason game, and there was a high chance we’d get to see Holden on the field.
The Pit was packed by kickoff, half the team and some of their girlfriends littering our couch, chairs, bean bags and every inch of the floor they could find around the television. Even Mary had rearranged her schedule at the tattoo shop so she could be home for the game, and she sat right in the center of the floor on a massive bean bag with Riley and Giana on either side of her.
They’d been pounding seltzers since about noon, so while I was surprised they were all still awake, I wasn’t surprised they were giggling and making jokes about how football pants should be illegal.
It felt like a Super Bowl party rather than a preseason game that didn’t mean shit, but for us, this game was more significant than any we’d seen before.
This was our quarterback, an NBU alum who actually made it.
It was proof that, maybe, we had a chance in hell of going pro, too.
I tried not to watch Mary from where I was in the kitchen as the second quarter got underway. It had been practically impossible while sitting in the same room as her, especially seeing her so relaxed and happy and buzzed, if not already drunk. I remembered how she used to be at our parties last year, sour and closed off and usually looking for the first excuse to bolt.
Now, she looked like she really felt at home, like we were family.
“Man, I’m fucking beat,” Zeke said, groaning a bit as he joined me in the kitchen and hopped up to sit on the counter. He squinted, massaging his neck with one hand while the other held his beer. “Am I getting old, or is Coach riding us hard this camp?”
“We’re a championship team now,” I reminded him. “More to prove.”
Clay sauntered in to join us, and I tossed him a beer out of the fridge when I saw he was empty-handed. Zeke lifted his beer once our cans were cracked open, and the three of us tapped them together before taking a long pull.
“Feels weird without Holden,” Clay said.
Zeke and I nodded, and I felt that mixture between nostalgia and nausea sweeping through me again. I wondered if it would be with me all season, if I’d constantly be caught between soaking up our last year together at NBU and reminiscing on all we’d done together the last three years.
“Hard to believe we’ll all be going our own ways soon,” I said.
“Eh, different teams, maybe, but we’ll all be pro,” Clay offered with a confident shrug of one shoulder.
I cocked a brow. “You realize the odds of that are pretty slim, right?”
“And you realize you’re in the company of the best college football players in the nation, right?”
I chuckled, lifting my beer in a salute. I loved that he was confident, and with his talent, he should be. His confidence was different from mine — it wasn’t cocky and half a joke. It was calm and sure, as if it’d already happened.
Still, I couldn’t quiet that realistic voice inside me whispering that only one-point-six percent of college football players make it to the NFL.
“I, uh… I actually don’t know if that’s what I want.”
Clay and I both whipped around when the words left Zeke’s mouth.
“What?” Clay asked. “The fuck are you talking about, man? That’s been your only goal ever since I’ve known you.”
“Long before that,” I chimed in.
“Yeah, I don’t know,” he said, grabbing the back of his neck. “I still want a career in football, of course, but… I was leaning toward coaching, maybe.”
Clay and I were both too shocked to speak.
Zeke checked behind him before looking at us again and lowering his voice. “I just… I don’t know what’s next for Riley.”
That sucked the air out of the room.
“She wants to go pro as bad as the rest of us,” he continued, shaking his head. “But, I mean, we all know there’s never been a female drafted to the NFL.”
“Fuck, man,” Clay said, running a hand through his hair. “My stupid ass never even thought about that. I’ve been running my mouth about going pro all camp like a fucking asshole.”
“It’s fine, she’s used to it,” Zeke said. “When she first came on the team, I don’t think she wanted anything past college, you know? She’s got a career in art curation waiting for her easily. And she’d be damn good at it, too. But something has shifted over the last two seasons.” He paused. “She got an agent, and let’s just say the agent is not-so-gently suggesting she consider sports broadcasting if she wants a career anywhere near the sport she loves.”
“He doesn’t think she has a chance at all?” I asked.