What a difference a year makes.
The screams of the crowd are deafening as the team makes our way out of the tunnel for pre-game festivities. The noise competes with the music blaring from the speakers. What was a small group of loyal friends and family during last year’s disastrous season has grown with each win, until security actually has their hands full keeping random fans out of the cordoned-off area.
Thank God I wasn’t named team captain this year. That burden falls on Donnell’s capable shoulders. Still, it feels damn good to have Alex and Mike both in full uniform walking beside me.
Mike’s chest puffs as he takes in the chaos that greets us as we line up. He’s sure as hell earned his pride. Not only did he take what Chelsie did to him on the chin, but he’s busted his ass harder than anyone else on this team to get where he is today. Frankly, his numbers blow mine out of the water. It’s a freaking travesty he’s not being talked about more than I am.
Football teams are kind of like rock bands that way. Quarterbacks and lead singers get all the attention, never mind it takes a dedicated group to make the magic happen. Last year was proof no man can carry an entire team on his shoulders.
“Yo.” Alex nudges me. “You ready to be bowl eligible today? For a real bowl game, and not that stupid shit we got stuck with last year?”
Fuck, yeah I am. “We spent most of our lives training for this. What do you think?”
“I dunno,” he laughs. “You’re so pussy-whipped, I kind of expected you to say something like, ‘Nah, it’s cool. As long as I’ve got Evie, football doesn’t really matter.’”
“He damn well better think that way,” Mike grouses on my other side.
“All right, love birds.” I roll my eyes, even though I can’t hide my smile at their typical bantering. As bad as last year was, everything seems to be falling into place now. “Break it up. Who says I have to choose? Why can’t I have it all?”
Mike shoots me an incredulous look. “Uh, I’m pretty sure the half-naked pictures of your girlfriend floating around the internet are reason enough why you can’t have it all.”
If only he’d been in the room the night I found out about that. Everyone was against me, but I knew Mike would see things my way.
I scan the crowd until Evie comes into view.
As much as everything has changed, some things are still the same.
She still looks like all the other players’ girlfriends. Straight hair, lots of makeup, extra padded push-up bra under a too-tight fitted Miners’ shirt with body-hugging skinny jeans to round out the look of sex goddess.
At least a genuine smile is spread across her painted lips. No teary eyes in sight.
The moment the introductions are done, I make a beeline for her, not caring about the fans who try to stop me along the way.
Before I reach her, Dad joins me. “The Chancellor’s here today. You need to take some pictures with him and thank him for the opportunity to play for State.”
“Okay. Let me talk to Evie first, then we’ll go over.”
His sharp grip on my shoulder might have been painful if it weren’t for the pads under my jersey. “No. Now.”
I round on him, my excitement bleeding out. That’s fine. I’ll channel my frustration on the field. Just like Dad taught me to. “I’ve met the Chancellor several times at your insistence. I’m sure he’d like a chance to meet his other players. And I would like to see my girlfriend before the game. Good luck superstitions and all that.”
Surprisingly, Dad nods. He understands pre-game rituals, though. “I’ll admit, she’s helping you this year. Her tits being all over the internet have increased your visibility. You can’t underestimate how good that kind of social media frenzy makes you look to the Heisman committee.”
My blood boils and I clench my fists to stave off the urge to punch my own father. “Number one, the Heisman committee doesn’t care about my girlfriend. They care about my stats. That’s on me; no one else. Number two, if you ever talk about Evie’s breasts again, I will rip your tongue out.”
The asshole just laughs at me, clearly not understanding I’m dead serious. “Easy there, son. I don’t have any interest in your little girlfriend. It’s not like I’m some horny college kid who thinks she’s a frat mattress, available for free rides. She’s done a good job this year making you look good by making herself more appealing.”
Before I stroke out from sky-high blood pressure, familiar slender hands wrap around my arm. “Hey! I’m glad I caught you!”
I’m glad, too. Except I don’t tear my gaze off my dad, watching to see where his eyes might roam. One inch lower and I’ll tear his fucking head off, consequences be damned.
“I couldn’t find it earlier, but I want to give you something before the game.”
My slimy asshole of a father winks at us. “Perfect. Give the cameras and fans a good show, kids. I’ll go catch up with the Chancellor.”
“What was that all about?” Evie wonders aloud. “What kind of show does he want us to give them?”
The kind I’m suddenly not so opposed to. If people are going to take her picture anyway, might as well make sure they know the deal. I pull her to me and kiss her for all I’m worth, right there in the sea of fans. If the press want to spin it as a good luck ritual, then they won’t be wrong for once.
Evie gazes up at me with a dazed look on her face when I pull away, which only makes me happier to be in this position. “What…what was that for?”
“Because I love you.” That’s not a lie, either.
“Okay.” She blinks up at me before reaching into her pocket and holding up what looks like a tiny eyeball charm, dangling from a small safety pin. It’s kinda creepy. “Will you wear this?”
“What is it?”
She pins it on the inside of my jersey as she explains, “It’s called a mati. In Greek tradition, it wards off the evil eye and is considered good luck.”
“You’re not superstitious.”
“No,” she admits. “But today is important to you, so it’s important to me. After my attack, someone from Church brought this to the house for me to wear. I never did because well…it’s kind of silly, but I thought you might like to have it. For good luck, I guess.”
I bend down to steal another kiss that has nothing to do with putting on a show. “I’m proud to wear this, not because I think it will bring me luck, but because it’s from you. Thank you, baby.”
Her answering smile brightens the whole world.
Yeah. I can totally have it all. For today, at least.
Quiet shouldn’t be this unnerving.
Usually, chaos and unmitigated sound aggravate me to no end, but as I look around the hushed inner sanctum of State’s main campus library, I realize it isn’t necessarily the lack of noise that has the hair on the back of my neck standing at attention.
It’s all the stares. All the whispers I can’t hear.
Having no control over what others say and think about me is a frightening prospect, from either end of the spectrum. Last year, glares and hissed words of failure were an inescapable burden. Now the looks of awe make me feel completely unworthy of whatever perceived heroism they’re bestowing on me. Aside from my performance on the football field, these people don’t know a thing about me. Not anything real, anyway.
But that might be about to change, and that’s the most terrifying recognition of all.
The petite girl sitting across from me clears her throat and pushes her glasses higher on her nose. “Are you ready to get started?”
“Sure. Whenever you are.” My words come out clipped. It’s not this poor State Miner Times reporter’s fault I don’t want to be here, but since she’s the one asking the questions, she’s going to get the brunt of my frustration. And she reminds me a little too much of my old Evie, which just irritates me further.
“Great.” She offers me an unsure smile. “Let’s begin with the easy stuff. For starters, how do you feel about the season so far?”
“Pretty good.”
“That’s it? You don’t want to…” she twirls her hands in a kind of crazy motion. “…elaborate?”
I grind my jaw to keep from spouting something sarcastic enough to give Evie’s typical comebacks a run for their money. “We have a 5-0 record, we became bowl eligible last week, and we’re ranked at the top of our conference. So…yeah. Pretty good.”
The flustered girl mumbles something under her breath that sounds like an awfully familiar, “dumb jock,” before flipping through her notes with a grimace on her pale face. “I’m pretty sure most of the students on campus already know the team’s record. What we’re looking for in this interview, is the chance to get to know the real Rob Falls. The one underneath the helmet and uniform.”
I shift in my seat and mentally curse Coach for forcing me to do this. People don’t need to know the real me. They only need to know I’ve finally helped their precious football team get back on a winning streak. It’s bad enough reporters are questioning my private life with Evie now during post-game interviews. From the moment she was listed on the WAGS pages, journalists can’t get enough of her. If I never see that damned football royalty hashtag again, it’ll be too soon.
“You feel ‘pretty good’ about the season.” She makes air quotes. “How confident are you that the Miners will continue their undefeated streak?”
If she wants to keep talking football, this interview is going to be a breeze. “Well, I can’t speak for every guy on the team, but I take one game at a time. We’re on the road this week against a tough conference opponent with a really strong defense. My job is to prepare for that game. After that’s finished, I’ll get ready for the next, and so on and so forth.”
She cocks an eyebrow at me. “’So on and so forth?’ You don’t have to speak like you’re writing prose. Readers want a glimpse of what makes you tick, not some pre-rehearsed mumbo jumbo you’ve been coached to say.”
“’Mumbo jumbo?’ And you’re making fun of me? Maybe this is the way I speak. Ever think of that?”
She squints at me through her lenses. In the dim light of the library, it’s difficult to make out her eye color, but it might be blue, maybe green. “You’re a conundrum, aren’t you, Robert Falls? More than a typical jock at the very least.”
Surprise forces me to bark out a laugh that’s not nearly appropriate for this environment. It took weeks to convince Evie of something this girl, whose name I can’t remember, picked up on in only a few minutes. “I’ll take that as a compliment, but only my mom calls me Robert, and that’s usually when I’m in trouble.”
“Do you dislike being called Robert, then? Have you been conditioned to assume you’ve done something wrong when someone addresses you by your full name, Mr. Falls?”
“Are you flirting with me?” Oh, shit. My brain to mouth filter clearly has malfunctioned from stress.
Her cheeks flush a vibrant shade of red, which stands out against her white skin. “N-no,” she stammers. “I-I never flirt. It’s beneath me. Why would I flirt with someone? That’s archaic posturing left over from our days of natural selection. It’s in the same category as pick-up lines while trolling for a one-night stand.”
Her discomfort would be comical if she weren’t so truly flustered. Is this how Evie feels when she screws with me? Because hell…it’s fun. “I think pick-up lines when trolling for a one-night stand probably are a direct result of natural selection. If a girl isn’t looking for a serious relationship, a guy’s opening line should be something witty that promises exactly what she’s looking for: a good time. No more, no less. Oh, and I’ve actually been conditioned to fear my last name being screamed by a long line of coaches. That’s when I really know I’m in trouble.”
She gapes at me for a few seconds before seeming to right herself. “You’ve been playing football for how many years now?”
“Sixteen.”
“You started playing football when you were four?” She glances down at her notes, maybe checking what she’s been told against what I’ve said.
“Yep.” Evie thought I was joking when I told her I’ve had a football in my hands since I could walk. “My dad actually played for State before a career-ending knee injury. He was my first coach. As soon as I was old enough, he put me in pee wee leagues, and I’ve played ever since.”
“Wow,” she breathes. “That’s impressive.”
“I guess.” It’s not as amazing as she thinks, but the aim is to keep people guessing, so that’s working out well. And if she’s this easy to throw off track, the next hour might even be entertaining.
“Let’s talk about your family a bit, since you brought them up. My notes show you live with your mom and dad in your hometown, Ironville, and that you have no siblings.”
“Yeah.” Was there a question somewhere I missed?
“How did it feel to grow up under your father’s shadow? Did he pressure you to follow in his footsteps? Was there anything else you might have liked to do other than be a quarterback?”
So much for fun. She went from rattled to going in for the kill in less time than it takes for me to work out a new play in the pocket. “I guess it was like any kid growing up with a parent who has a special talent and wants to pass it on to the next generation. No, and no.”
Lies, but no one needs to know the truth.
“No and no?”
“Those are my answers to your last two questions.”
She raises her eyebrows and purses her lips, obviously annoyed with my avoidance. Which only fuels my desire to keep going with this charade. “Okay, fair enough. Moving on. You’re a sophomore this year. Have you declared your major?”
My ears perk with her muttered, “probably basket-weaving.”
“I declared my major last year. Computer engineering. Isn’t that in your notes?”
“Uh,” she clears her throat. “No. No, it isn’t. What’s your current GPA?”
“Four point oh.”
I almost laugh again when she chokes on air.
“Do you have a tutor like the other members of the team? Is there anyone you’d like to credit for helping you achieve your academic success?”
“I don’t have a tutor, but I should definitely credit my girlfriend. We have a competition going to see who can pull a higher GPA. It’s sort of a leftover beef from high school.”
Lois Lane’s shoulders drop and she seems to sigh in relief. “Finally. The good stuff,” she mumbles.
Does this chick not realize she talks aloud to herself? And that, sitting across this rather small table from her, I can hear almost all of it?
“’The good stuff?’”
She blushes again, but straightens her papers on the desk along with her shoulders. “Yes. The good stuff. I was waiting for a good opening, and you’ve just given it to me.”
Back to nervousness. Damn, and it was going so well. Maybe if Evie weren’t constantly on my mind, I wouldn’t have opened my stupid mouth. It’s not helping that looking at this girl is like seeing a ghost of Evie from high school.
“Let’s talk about your girlfriend.”
“What do you want to know?” My senses are on full alert for another blitz.
“You said you’ve been together since high school, but you also seem to have knowledge of pick-up lines and the best ways to score a hook up. How does your girlfriend feel about your charm with the ladies?”
If what she just assumed wasn’t so ridiculous, I might be offended. “We’ve been together since our senior year of high school, yes, but I’ve been in love with her for much longer than that. She’ll be the first to tell you I have approximately zero charm, so other ladies aren’t really an issue.”
She cocks her head to the side, either studying me or trying to figure the best way to pick the scab until it bleeds. I’m betting on the latter.
“Eva obviously finds you charming or she wouldn’t have been with you for…how long have you been together, again?”
Aha. She’s just looking for the right angle to ask what she really wants to. Well, she’s not gonna get it from me. “We’ve been together for two years, a week, and three days. Sorry I don’t know how many hours, minutes, and seconds it’s been.”
Yes, I do.
“Knowing that much is pretty charming. It seems you two are serious.”
“Very.” Where’s she going with this? One mention of that stupid hashtag, and so help me God, I will throw this table across the library.
“Where do you see yourself after graduation? Obviously with a career in the NFL, but I mean, as far as your relationship is concerned.”
This is what readers want to know? Awesome. I hate knowing how many guys must want Evie ever since those stupid photos were leaked online. If my answers make them think twice about approaching her, then I’m on board with that. “Married and starting our family, probably in whichever city I get drafted to.”
“And do you think her identity as the victim of a sexual assault will potentially be a problem for that future? Is it an issue in your relationship now?”
There it is. No matter that she made it obvious she was looking for my weakness, her hit still jars my brain with the force of a helmet-to-helmet tackle.
I glance around the room, but no students are close enough to overhear our conversation. “How do you know about that? Those records are sealed because we were minors when it happened.”
She shrugs, tapping her pen against her notebook like she’s losing patience. “Public record. The details might not be available, but her attacker’s trial is scheduled for next month. Your names are listed as key witnesses. Before the trial was even scheduled, there were newspaper articles and archives.”
That’s a bullshit answer, but I’m too terrified of the truth to dig further. “You didn’t know I’m a computer engineering major, but you knew about this?”
“I don’t really care about sports or celebrities. I’m a journalism major, not a fangirl. The only reason I agreed to field your interview is because you have much juicier information to provide than the typical college athlete.”
What the fuck? Tingles spread through my body as my vision swims. “Juicy information? Juicy information? What kind of sick statement is that? Maybe, if you had read all the reports, you’d know there’s nothing juicy about tragedy in people’s actual lives.”
“I couldn’t read them. You know that. So, tell me.”
“I’m not telling you shit.” I rise and collect the books I was reading before she showed up for this little mockery of an interview. “We’re through here.”
A cool hand on my arm startles me.
“The media is going to get ahold of this one way or another,” she whispers. “You know they will. There’s talk of you being nominated for the Heisman this year. They’ll leave no stone unturned in your life history. Everyone loves an out of the ashes story, the kind that show perseverance and hope in the face of adversity. I honestly thought maybe you’d want an opportunity to tell people what really happened before the truth spins out of your control.”
I shake off her touch, my entire body trembling with self-directed anger. How could I have been so stupid as to think this would never be made public? Does Evie have any idea what’s coming? “Listen…”
“Julie,” she supplies.
“Julie,” I grit out. “This isn’t up for discussion. It’s not a tragic backstory. It’s the story of our lives.”
“Yeah. That’s why people will eat it up. It’s a real-life love story born out of the worst possible circumstances.”
It’s taking more self-control than I have to not snap and go off on this girl. As a woman, shouldn’t she be more sympathetic? “Is that your spin, Julie from a college newspaper? You want to make a name for yourself before graduation? I’ve got some news for you. We’re not a public interest fluff piece because whatever ‘knight in shining armor rescues the damsel in distress’ scenario you’ve got rolling through your head is wrong. We didn’t fall in love and live happily ever after because of some tragic event like in a fairy tale. She’s saved me far more times than I’ve saved her, if you can even call it that. We’re a team; that’s what we do for each other. She’s the love of my life simply because she exists. End of story.”