INTENTIONAL GROUNDING
Lucas
ORGANIZED TEAM ACTIVITIES, otherwise known as OTA’s were more than beginning to suck.
Time off had long since passed and like clockwork, just past midweek, we were right back to the level of exhaustion and misery we had been at before the thirty-six hour reprieve.
It was only the beginning of practice, but Coach was already in rare form. His temper was explosive. Someone had started a rumor that he had taken up with the cheerleading coach, and he was taking it out on us.
At least I knew his mood had nothing to do with Gillian and me. He’d gone up to Lake Forest over the weekend and didn’t even know she hadn’t stayed on campus. And I hadn’t seen Gillian in anything except a professional capacity since getting back, so it wasn’t like he could suspect anything.
We’d both agreed long ago this thing between us would end when training camp was over. The letting go early part had hit her harder than I thought it would, and to be honest it hadn’t been that easy on me either.
Sure, ending things after our weekend had seemed like the right choice at the time. Our time had been amazing, and ending on a good note was how I wanted to remember us.
But relationships were new to me, and I had no idea what to expect from a breakup. Getting attached to someone and then trying to unattach yourself was way more complicated than I could ever have imagined.
In fact, it was pretty fucking hard. I’d even started to second-guess myself, which was never a good thing.
The whistle blew, and I had to get my mind on football, not her.
Drills.
Drills.
And more drills.
Doing basic moves I could maneuver in my sleep, I still had to maximize my concentration so I would hear exactly what Coach wanted done.
I’d been sucking ass this week.
The worst part was this stuff I was doing, I’d done a million times, and I was still fucking it up. I needed to make sure to do it right today in order to minimize the chance of being the target of Coach’s ire.
It was another hot day, and the sweat was pouring off my brow as I ran the cones in a twist and turn motion. Then I moved on to plays. The defense showed a blitz to the safety, and I knew I should call an audible at the line of scrimmage, but fuck me if I could remember which one.
Burns swooped in and saved the day.
Motherfucker.
Two-a-days were wearing on me, and when we broke for the morning, the only thing I wanted to do was crash.
After showering, I walked past the training room. It wasn’t on accident, so of course I looked in. Gillian was in there, I knew she was, and she was taping Kutch’s ankle. The two of them were alone.
What the fuck—did he get taped twenty-four seven or what?
She wasn’t into him, I knew this, but still it infuriated me. I paced, waiting for him to clear the room. It took more than ten minutes with all his bullshit talking until he finally walked out the door.
As soon as he did, I was standing in the doorway. I knew I should have just gone to my room, but I couldn’t. I needed to hear her voice. It was Thursday and we hadn’t talked since Sunday morning. It had been a long week.
“Hey,” I said, staying where I was.
Her head jerked around at the sound of my voice. “Lucas.”
I took a step toward her. “Meet me tonight?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” she sighed. “The days have been hard, and the night’s harder. Meeting you tonight will only make tomorrow that much worse.”
I was inches from her before I could stop myself. “Please. I need you. I can’t do this the way we are. It’s too hard.”
Her bottom lip quivered as she spoke. “But it was your idea to start the letting go process now.”
I traced her lip with my finger, hoping to ease her pain. “And I was wrong.”
She stared at me, contemplating my words.
The sound of Dallas’s voice coming down the hallway had me jumping back.
“You should go,” she whispered.
“Not until you say yes, Gillian. Agree to meet me tonight.”
“No.” Her voice was soft and raspy. I knew she was going to cry. I had to leave before Dallas got here.
“If you change your mind, I’ll be there tonight, at ten,” I said, and then I was gone.
During afternoon practice, I couldn’t stop thinking about her and our situation. I threw a couple of terrible balls and made more than a few obvious mental miscalculations.
“Carrington, over here, now!”
Coach was calling me aside.
Great!
I ran over to where he stood. “Yeah, Coach.”
“Do you think you can take your head out of your ass this week?”
“Sorry, Coach. I don’t know what’s going on with me.”
“Well you better figure it out. And fast. Burns is scoring, and you, I don’t know what you are doing. Are you pulling this shit because you want me to put him in your spot?”
The words fuck you were on the tip of my tongue, but if I let them fly, I’d be out, and I knew it. “No, Coach, I don’t.”
He practically spit as he spoke. “Then show me you deserve to be the starter.”
The pressure was demonic, and as I ran back onto the field, I tried to figure out where this rotten streak I was in had come from.
It wasn’t like I had to think too hard.
Before I picked up the ball, I pulled the football shaped rock from my pocket and stared down at it. If this was my good luck charm, it better start fucking working right now.
By the time practice ended I knew the fucking rock wasn’t my good luck charm. Damn it, she was. She was my good luck charm. I almost threw the rock across the field, but then at the last minute, I couldn’t let it go.
She was a part of it.
And I’d pushed her away.
I had done that.
In the locker room, I avoided conversation with anyone, opting to be alone in my own head space. When I could, I grabbed for my phone and sent Gillian a text. It was short and to the point.
Me: Meet me tonight. I’m begging.
The hours passed slowly until it was time to head to the bridge—and she still hadn’t responded to my message.
At ten past ten I sat on the bridge alone. I thought for sure she wasn’t coming, but then I heard the snap of twigs and an odd relief washed through me.
Holding onto the rope rail, she walked slowly toward me across the old rickety bridge. I stood up. Waited for her to reach me.
As soon as she did, I reached for her. Pulled her down to sit on the edge of the bridge. Her touch was what I needed. Words were for later. Right now I needed to feel her against me.
All of her.
And I was going to start with her mouth, right here, right now. I kissed her until my face was numb. Until my lips ached. And even then, that wasn’t enough. I wanted to reacquaint myself with every inch of her from her head to her toes. “Let’s go back and I’ll come to your room after curfew,” I breathed.
Her roaming hands stopped their movement, but only to pull me closer and hold me tighter. “Lucas, no, we can’t.”
“Yes, we can,” I insisted, and kissed her again, a little harder, a little rougher, and with a lot more need.
She broke away. “What are you doing? You ended things between us.”
“I don’t know what I want, but I know ending things with you isn’t it. What I do know is I can’t go another night without touching you, talking to you, being with you. In you.”
If I sounded more desperate than I ever had, that was because I was.
With her arms around my neck, she murmured, “Okay,” and then rested her head on my shoulder and held onto me even tighter.
I did the same.
Our hold was fierce.
Forgiving.
Indefinable.
I tried to unwrap myself from her hold, so we could head back. “Come on,” I managed.
She didn’t move. Just held me tighter.
Beneath my fingertips, I could feel her body tense. “Gillian, what is it?” I asked.
Finally, after a few moments, she pulled back, and I nervously watched as she stood up. “You were right to end things. You know this is only going to get harder as the days pass and our time comes closer to ending.”
I stood and took her hand. “I wasn’t right, Gillian. That’s just it. Nothing about this is right. I’m not right, not without you. I don’t know how it happened, but I need you.”
Tears filled her eyes. “What are you saying?”
I cupped her face in my hands. “I’m saying I don’t want to say goodbye.”
She was shaking. “But what about my father and—”
I cut her off. “Let’s worry about that tomorrow, please,” I begged.
“One night isn’t going to change anything, Lucas.”
“I know, but I just can’t worry about it right now. I want you. I need you. I really need you.”
With a smile, she nodded. “Okay, but tomorrow we have to figure things out.”
Tomorrow came, but we didn’t figure things out, nor did we the next day, or the day after that.
Figuring things out meant facing the fact that there was no way we could really tell her father about us.
We both knew he would never accept it.
I was his star player.
She was his daughter.
And although I might not be able to explain why, I just knew in my heart he would never allow the two of us to be together.
Besides everyone knew the unwritten rule in football when it came to any coach’s daughter—don’t touch.
You.
Did.
Not.
Touch.
This meant after training camp there was never going to be an us.
And facing that wasn’t anything either of us were willing to do.