Chapter Three

Dylan

One year later
It was ten PM on a Friday night, and I was dead on my feet, as I was almost every day. I loved it that way, lived for it.
I’d woken up at six AM as I did every morning so I could get in my first workout of the day before a quick breakfast and a team meeting. Straight from the meeting, I ran to make it to my first class. Around twelve-thirty, I usually had an hour to grab some lunch and just be a normal college student instead of an athlete. After lunch, depending on the day, I either had another class or went straight to get in my second workout in the weight room. After that came three hours of practice, which sometimes went an extra hour or so. After a thirty-minute break that included a smoothie and a sandwich, I’d found myself in the library trying to finish an assignment that was due the next day. On my way over there, the busy day starting to slow me down, I had texted my girlfriend, Victoria, to see what the plan was for the night. Before I knew it, three hours had passed, and I still hadn’t heard back from her.
I shared a house a few minutes away from campus with four of my teammates: Kyle, Maxwell, Benji, and Rip. If they hadn’t decided to throw a last-minute party for Maxwell’s birthday, I could’ve spent my night in peace in my room with Vicky, maybe watch some Netflix and fuck around in bed. After a long day of getting ready for the season, that was usually all the energy I had left in me. But, knowing that wasn’t possible, I decided to check out Vicky’s dorm room first to see if we could avoid the party altogether and chill in there instead, even though I knew it would mean she’d be pissed at me.
Unlike me, she always had an abundance of energy and time for parties, but I also knew how to convince her to stay in. As much as she loved drinking and dancing, she loved what I could do to her body even more.
We’d been dating for five months. Two months of that we’d spent apart, FaceTiming and texting non-stop over summer break, and everything seemed to be going well. She didn’t mind that I had to spend most of my time out on the field or in the gym because her own time was filled with classes, sorority meetings, and an internship. She was supportive, caring, and, well, truth be told, she had been completely unplanned.
My original plan had always been that I wasn’t going to date during my last year.
Focus on the game.
Sharpen your skills.
Be the best on the field.
Make the time to study.
Those were just a few of the things on my priority list, and a girlfriend wasn’t one of them. My plate was already full—actually, it was more than full; it was overflowing. With all I had going on—and I had a lot going on—I just didn’t have enough time left in the day to handle that kind of commitment. Eventually, despite my busy schedule, Vicky had managed to wiggle her way into my life, and to my complete surprise, I liked having her there. Seeing her after a long, tiring day wasn’t the hardest thing, and as far as I knew, she liked being with me even more.
In the past, when I was late for one of our dates because practice ran long or couldn’t go to a party because I had to sit my ass down and study, she never complained. She gave me calm (not always) and balance (again, not always), and I tried to give her whatever I had left to give of myself at the end of the day. To be fair, that might not sound like a lot, but she always told me I was more than enough, always said I made her happy and she couldn’t imagine being with someone else. I believed her—why wouldn’t I? She definitely didn’t mind having a boyfriend who was expected to be drafted in the top twenty, and I’d have been lying if I said I didn’t enjoy seeing her face light up with excitement and joy whenever the media talked about me. I wasn’t exactly planning on asking her if she wanted to come with me if I did indeed manage to get drafted at the end of the year, but she had hinted rather heavily a few times that she was game to travel wherever after graduation. So, I was thinking maybe if things kept going the way they were, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to ask her.
After talking to Vicky’s roommate and learning that she’d actually left for the party—hoping to find me there, I assumed—I finally left campus, mentally trying to prepare myself for the mess that was waiting for me at the house.
Surprisingly, the house didn’t seem to be as crowded as I’d feared. Instead of inviting the whole school, they just had the entire team packed into our three-story house. It was the team, the girlfriends of those players who had one, and just to balance everything out, some of the cheerleaders. So, it was still a madhouse, but on a smaller scale. I would have bet the only reason they were keeping it relatively small was their fear of Coach hearing about it.
I found JP trying to sweet-talk his way into a girl’s pants in the kitchen. “Have you seen Vicky around?” I asked as soon as I was close enough.
“Not yet. I’m sure she’s around here somewhere. Where’ve you been, man? You missed the Madden tournament.” Before I could escape, he slapped his hand on my back. “Meet Leila before you disappear somewhere. She is the girl of my dreams. Girl of my dreams, meet my main man.”
I shook my head and watched the girl giggle into her red cup. “Hello, Dylan.”
JP pulled her back against his front and rounded his arm around her collarbone. He leaned down, ran his nose against her neck. “Let me have a taste. Then you can tell me all about what you’re planning to do to me.” Absentmindedly handing me her plastic cup, he proceeded to attack her lips with enthusiasm.
Leaving them alone, I checked out the living room, picking my way through couples making out in the hallway, then went down to the basement where things were moving a bit faster, and finally headed out to the backyard. She was nowhere to be found, so I sent her another text as I headed over to Chris and a few of the other guys before I went back in the house.
“Chris? Have you seen Vicky around? She’s supposed to be here, but I can’t seem to find her.”
“I just got here a few minutes ago. Have you checked inside?”
I sighed. “Yeah, not there. Didn’t see you at practice today—everything all right?” I asked when the other guys started to argue about the upcoming game.
“Yeah, I was in the weight room, left before you guys were done.” He saw the look on my face and continued, “Don’t ask. I’ll tell you about it later.”
Chris was one of my closest friends. “Coach?” I was guessing it was another argument. Chris was the son of Mark Wilson, one of the greatest quarterbacks of all time and our coach. They argued—all the time. You’d think with his dad as the head coach, he’d have things easier, but no. Chris worked just as hard as the rest of us, if not harder. We spent long, extra hours practicing together, perfecting our game.
He let out a long breath. “Yeah. We’ll talk later, okay? It’s been a long day, so I’m gonna call it a night and head home. I don’t want him on my ass. I’ll find you tomorrow.”
Before I could ask anything else, he said his goodbyes to our small group and left.
I checked my phone again: nothing from Vicky. Thinking maybe she wasn’t getting the texts, I tried calling her a few times, but she never answered.
Starting to get worried, I excused myself and slowly made my way upstairs. My room was at the very end of the hallway on the second floor, and because the party had been a last-minute deal, I hadn’t locked it before I’d left that morning. As I passed the first door next to the staircase, my steps faltered. The second and third floor were always a no-go when the guys threw parties. If I hadn’t known Kyle—our best tight end—for as long as I had, I would’ve barged in and kicked everyone out. But, this was Kyle.
If the sounds coming through his door were anything to go by, it was more than likely that there was an orgy going on in there, and he was most definitely the star of that show. Which didn’t bode well for my room. An eyeful of multiple naked bodies would teach me to lock my door next time. Hesitating in front of my door, I listened for any suspicious sounds. When I couldn’t hear anything, I opened it and was relieved to find that no one had made it that far yet.
The bad news was that Vicky wasn’t in there either. I called her again; no answer.
I tried her roommate, and she answered on the second ring.
“Dylan?”
“Jessie, Vicky isn’t at my house. Has she come back there?”
“No. I told you, she said she was going to meet you at your place.”
I sat down on the edge of my bed and rubbed my temple. Just because they weren’t blasting the house with music didn’t mean people weren’t being loud to make up for it.
“She isn’t here. She knew I was planning on studying in the library after practice, so why would she even come here to look for me?”
“I’m not sure what you want me to say, Dylan. We had a sorority meeting at eight and after that was over, she changed and said she was heading out to your place. That’s all I know. She probably has her phone on silent. Try again.”
I got up and started pacing back and forth in the confines of my small room.
“Look, I’ve tried ten times already and she isn’t answering. It’s not like her to ignore my texts, or any text for that matter. You know better than I do that her phone is always glued to her hand. I’m starting to get worried here.”
Jessie’s long sigh reached my ears. I could picture her rolling her eyes on the other end of the line, which was basically her default when she interacted with people for longer than a minute. “Do you want me to call one of the girls and see if she doubled back there instead?”
“I’d appreciate that, Jessie.”
Without saying anything else, she hung up on me. Even though the shower was calling my name, I was still worried enough that I decided to check the house again and maybe ask a few more guys if they’d seen her around. If she’d made it to the party, someone must have seen her, and if not, I was ready to go out and search for her.
As I was passing Kyle’s room, I noticed that the orgy was winding down, the moans and grunts quieter now. I tried the door and it opened.
Since I had no idea who was in there with him, I kept my eyes on the floor when I asked, “Hey Kyle, did you see Vicky downstairs tonight? Her roommate said she came here.”
Even though I’d heard Kyle murmuring to someone just seconds before I opened the door, the sudden silence that came with my question had me looking up.
The last thing I remembered seeing was Vicky…in the middle of the bed…between a pair of dicks—Maxwell’s and Kyle’s, to be specific—on her hands and knees. I’m sure you get the picture I was staring at.
I remember Vicky screaming at us to stop. I also vaguely remember Maxwell trying to give me explanations. I must have skipped minutes in between because the next thing I knew JP and Benjamin—our right guard—were hauling me off of Kyle.
Breathing with difficulty, I tried my best to throw them off, but they weren’t budging. “It’s okay. It’s okay and done with. Settle down!” JP shouted in my face as he held my head in his hands and tried to catch my eyes. Benji, a mountain of a man and another one of my close friends, was holding my arms at my back as he tried to shuffle us out of the room. Even if I could have gotten JP out of the way, there was no way I could shake Benji. JP was still pushing on my shoulders to stop me from going after Kyle. “We’re just gonna get some air, okay, Dylan? Take it easy, man. It’s not worth risking your future. Keep it locked down.”
Before they could pull me out, I glanced around the room. Maxwell was holding his bloody nose but otherwise was fine from what I could see. At some point, he must have put his dick back into his pants after pulling it out of Victoria’s mouth, but the buttons of his jeans were hanging open, and he was still shirtless. Kyle…Kyle was naked and squirming on the ground, the room now filled with a different kind of a moaning.
Victoria, my loving girlfriend…she was still kneeling on the bed, eyes big and scared, chest heaving as she clutched a jersey to her body to cover herself. Number twelve—she was holding my number…my jersey. She was letting them fuck her while wearing my number.
Our eyes met, and I watched her lips form my name. When she made a move to get down from the bed, I stopped trying to get to Kyle and stopped fighting my friends, who finally let me shrug them off. I strode out of the room and the house without a second glance.

“Coach,I know what you’re gonna say, and it isn’t necessary. I’m doing fine.”
“Get inside and sit your ass down.”
I did as he asked.
“Cut the crap. From what I’m seeing on the field, you’re nowhere near fine, let alone your usual self. I gave you one week and nothing changed. You’re out of time. Now, you’ll do what I tell you to do and stop acting like her pussy was the last one on earth. Look around for God’s sake—you’ve got plenty of replacements waiting on the sidelines if that’s what you’re after.”
My hands clenched into fists as I surged up from my seat.
“You think this is about her? You think that’s why I’m having trouble focusing? She is not the one who’s affecting my game. I don’t care about that, but how can you expect me to give my all to the game when I don’t trust my teammates? They’re supposed to have my back, both on the field and off. How would—”
Coach got up from his chair, silencing me with one simple but deadly look, and came to stand in front of me.
“Okay, Dylan, let’s play this your way. Tell me what you want me to do. I already talked to the whole team. You were there—you know I don’t approve. I tell you boys all the time that if you want to make it into the big leagues, you can’t let distractions into your life. You got into it with Kyle right in the middle of the weight room and punched him in the face—again—and I gave that to you without repercussions. I can’t have my boys brawling for everyone to see. What else would you like me to do? You want me to cut them from the team just because they slept with your willing girlfriend?”
I tried to cover up my flinch, but it was no use. Tired of everything, I sat back down and rested my forearms on my knees. At the end of the day, as much as his words were hitting a raw spot, he was right—there was nothing more I could do. Neither Kyle nor Maxwell seemed to be having a hard time on the field. Yeah, they avoided me, but it didn’t seem like it was affecting their game. Maybe I was the one who wasn’t open-minded enough. Either way, not one of them—Victoria included—was worth giving up the end game. I wanted to hear my name announced on draft day. It felt like I’d been working toward that goal my whole life. At night, in bed, after a long day of workouts, practice, and meetings on top of classes, when I closed my eyes, I could see it, could feel it in my bones. I knew I was good enough, knew if I made it to the big leagues, I’d work my ass off even harder. I’d put in the time, the sweat, the work. It was time to move on. I heard Coach let out a long sigh and focused on him.
“You’re aggressive on the field, you’re working yourself too hard, and you’re not in sync with Chris like you usually are. You don’t even want to know how many incomplete passes I’ve counted today. You’re a mess, Dylan. You know it, I know it, the whole team knows it. Do you think you can afford to be reckless this season? This is your future you’re playing with, kid, and for what? A girl you won’t even remember a month from now, much less a year from now?”
With every word out of his mouth, I could feel my shoulders tense further and further. Football was my life. I was a damn good player, the best wide receiver out there. I worked hard to earn that.
“Do you think it’s all fun and games in the NFL? You think they’ll give a shit about you throwing a temper tantrum about your teammates? The NFL is a whole new level. If you can’t settle your differences with a few of your teammates, forget about your differences and play as a team on that field in college, you should forget about the NFL. You’re good. We both know you’ll get there, but not everyone has what it takes to stay there. It won’t matter who you play for if all you do is sit on a bench because you can’t get along with your teammates for whatever reason. Unless you’re out on that field, giving it all you got—”
“Sir, with all due—”
“Shut up, Dylan. Shut up and listen to me. This is it. This is your last year. Do you understand that? You either make it or you don’t. You have eyes on you. You know it’s not just the media either. You’ve had eyes on you since your second year here, and don’t forget that you were the one who chose to finish school before moving on to the big-boy league. The season starts next week. You have a shot, but you know every game counts. Don’t screw everything up, not for something stupid like this.”
“Sir, I have no intention of screwing anything up. I’m working on it. I promise the next time you see me on the field you will—”
He straightened from the desk and walked back to his seat behind it. “The next time I see you on the field, you better have your shit together. If you don’t, I’ll assume you’re itching to get benched.” Pulling out a small key from the back pocket of his jeans, he unlocked the top drawer, took out another key, and tossed it to me.
My hand shot out, and I caught it in my palm before it could connect with my face.
“I know you take part-time jobs here and there whenever you can find the time, especially during the off-season. I’m assuming you send whatever is left after your expenses to your family and you’ll do the same this year, too?” I held the key tighter in my hand, felt the edges biting into my skin, and gave him a silent nod before he continued. “Then you can’t afford your own place. It’s too late to apply for campus housing, and I can’t have one of my top players sleeping on the floor at one of his teammates’ houses.” Leaning back in his seat, he gave me a long look. “I have an apartment just off campus. I had a—it’s empty now. You’ll be staying there. I need you to get your head back in the game. We need you this season.”
And I needed to have football in my life. I wouldn’t cope well if he decided benching me was a better idea.
“I’ll have my shit together for the game.”
“That’s what I want to hear. We’re done. Now get up and get the hell out of my office. I’ll text you the address by the end of the day.”
I opened my palm and looked down at the key. I wasn’t looking for a free handout—hell, I hated the fact that I was even considering it, but I was out of options since everyone I knew had gotten their housing figured out months ago. I still could bunk up with a teammate or classmate, but I wasn’t sure it wouldn’t affect my game or my classes. I needed a party-free, girlfriend-free last year of college if I was going to make my and my family’s dreams come true. My decision already made, I got up to leave.
“Thanks, Coach,” I mumbled, just loud enough that he could hear me.
“Dylan.”
With my hand on the door handle, I stopped and looked back at him over my shoulder.
“I don’t want Chris knowing about this apartment or my involvement in you getting it. Sometimes when it’s too late to head back, I stay over, and his mom doesn’t know about the apartment. I want it to stay that way. Do you get me? I’ll be staying there from time to time so make sure I don’t see any of your teammates around either. I already see enough of your ugly faces to last a lifetime.”
So my coach would be my roommate for my last year, not a big deal. Truth be told, the longer I thought about it as I walked out of the building to head to my two-thirty class, the more I liked the idea. It would be just one more reason to focus on what was important and steer clear of everything else.