It was football preseason, and I played harder than ever to prove myself. I was a second-stringer for the Florida Sharks, a wide receiver with lightning in my feet, and I deserved a permanent position as a first-string. Which was why, now that we were running drills, I was giving it my all.

I lived and breathed football. I came from Fort Collins, so the Colorado Stallions should have been my aim, but I had loved the Sharks since I could remember. There was something about the way they played that made the game seem like more than only the collision of muscular bodies and more like a game of skill and finesse. I had managed to get noticed in the right circles, and in time, I had moved onward and upward. I was so close to being a Florida Shark now, I could taste it.

I was one of the fastest men on the field, and I gave it my all today. There was still a little less than a month left before the season started, and the four or five preseason games we were going to play were what could change my whole career forever. They would look at performance. They would compare me to the first-string players and decide if I was worthy. If I had worked hard enough, they would take me in as one of them. That was the dream. That was what all this was for.

Coach Daniel blew the whistle, ending the drill we were running, and called us together to explain the next drill. The men were tired, breathing hard, each of them as serious about this as I was. The competition was fierce, and passion ran thick through our veins.

“Looking good out there, boys,” Coach Daniel said, and for a moment, he made eye contact with me. He was looking at all the players, but I took it as a sign. I took it personally. I was looking good out there.

“Got it?” Coach Daniel asked after he explained what we had to do next. The men nodded and called a water break before we got into it again.

Being a second-stringer meant we often rubbed shoulders with the cream of the crop. We had gotten to know some of the first-stringers well, made friends with them, even. I had fallen into step with a group of friends from the first team who were solid people, rooting as hard for me as I was. Brad Williams and Liam Larson were two of the players keeping an eye out for me, and I had a feeling they would put in a good word for me when the time came. It was great having contacts on the team and knowing some of the players I would be seen with when the Florida Sharks finally realized what they were missing, but I also realized Brad and Liam and the other guys were great friends. They were people who cared, and there was very little of that left in the world. It made me want to be a part of the team for so many more reasons than only football. They were invested in each other’s lives, and I wanted that too.

We got down and dirty again, showing what we were made of. I ran my heart out. That little oblong-shaped ball and getting it past the touchdown line was my sole objective.

Henry, one of the players, fumbled the ball before he managed to pass it to me and dropped it.

“Butterfingers!” Cam, another player, yelled. “Get that ball off the ground. This is football, not soccer.”

Henry spun around to Cam and stormed toward him, body leaning forward.

“Fuck you, smart ass. Are you the coach?”

“No, but if you need private sessions, I have time. Looks like you need it.”

The two men had walked toward each other, flinging insults, and Henry pressed the grid of his helmet right up against Cam’s. Everyone stopped what they were doing to watch the fight—there was nothing more beautiful than two heavily padded men in peak condition going at each other over a stupid mistake. I laughed.

Coach Daniel blew the whistle and stormed onto the field to break up the fight. The rest of us stood in groups talking while we had nothing to do.

“How about we get out tonight?” Ryan Maddison asked. He was a linebacker from Texas, and over the last few months, we had built something of a friendship.

I nodded. “Sounds good, but I don’t want to drink too much. We have to keep these bodies tuned and ready.”

Ryan laughed, shaking his head. “You’re obsessed, man. You’re a machine. Having a drink and eating junk food once in a while is not a sin.”

“All in moderation,” I said. “But being obsessed is what’s going to get me noticed.”

Ryan shrugged, which looked comical with the oversized shoulder pads we wore.

When we walked off the field after training, I noticed Brad standing to the side of the field, arms folded over his chest. He grinned when I saw him, and I walked over.

“Eventful, as always,” he said. “Sometimes, coming here offers more entertainment than going out.”

I shook my head. “Cam’s always getting into it with someone. It was Henry this time.”

“It might be you tomorrow.”

“Not a chance,” I said. “I know what’s important here.”

Brad laughed and shook his head. “You remind me of me, Nick. You’re as dedicated and as full of shit.”

I took that as a compliment.

“I’m here to extend an invite,” Brad said. “I’m hosting a dinner on Saturday night, and I’d like you to join us. All the boys are going to be there, and they’ll bring the ladies. I also have an out of town guest coming. You down?”

I nodded. I hadn’t made plans for the weekend yet, and I couldn’t imagine anything better than spending my Saturday night with the players on the Florida Sharks team.

“I’ll be there, thank you.”

I met Ryan at the Radio Bar in South Beach. He had sent me the location, saying it was a place he wanted to try. When I walked in, I wonder why on earth we were here. The place was nice enough, cozy and casual, but it wasn’t quite my speed. The floor was raw concrete, the walls painted to match, and it looked like the place someone had started in their garage.

I walked to Ryan who was already seated at the bar with a glass of something golden in front of him.

“This is the place you wanted to try out?” I asked.

Ryan shrugged. “Come on, we have to slum it once in a while before we’re too famous to go anywhere normal.”

“Speak for yourself.” I sat down next to Ryan and ordered whiskey. Drinking it straight was a lot healthier than having a drink with sugary mixers, even though I didn’t necessarily like it. I sipped my drink when it arrived and nodded, satisfied. The wall behind the bar was decorated with shelves filled with alcohol bottles, and I read some of the labels.

“So, I was thinking we should go to Liv this weekend,” Ryan said.

“I can’t,” I said. “I’m going to a dinner party at Brad’s place.”

“Oh, look at you, running with the big boys. Is that why he was there today?”

I nodded. “He’s a good guy, reaching out and making an effort to make me feel at home. I appreciate it.”

“Of course. I guess if they were after me the way they’re after you, I would be thrilled too.”

I sipped more of my whiskey.

“I’m sorry you weren’t invited,” I said. Ryan seemed irritated by it.

“No, don’t be sorry. It’ll probably be the whole gang. Brad’s friend group in the team almost has a reputation for how close they are. I don’t really get along with any of them. It’s not like they didn’t reach out to me at first.”

I shrugged. I understood what Ryan was saying. He was different than the other guys. He was rough and unrefined, a guy who’d grown up on the wrong side of the tracks. His ash blond hair was always messy, and there was something unsettling about his brown eyes—not to mention he was huge as a football player. But over time, I had come to know him and realized there was more to Ryan than met the eye. Ryan got along with few people. He had even fewer friends because of his brash attitude, but loyalty was important to him, and to me, it was the foundation of our friendship.

“You never miss home?” I asked.

Ryan shook his head. “Was just a space to exist until I found where I really belong. I prefer Miami, love being on the coast, and I have goals here, a real future.” He finished his drink and ordered another. “Back home, there was nothing for me.”

I nodded, understanding what Ryan was saying. I had a better concept of family and where I originated from, but I felt the same about being in Miami, about finally being where I knew I belonged.

Two women walked to the bar, and Ryan looked at them up and down. They glanced sideways at us and giggled. Ryan might have been intimidating to other guys, someone they preferred to stay away from, but he had the dangerous flair that women liked. He always pulled one or two over.

“Well, hello, ladies,” Ryan said.

They giggled again and turned toward us.

“What are two beautiful girls like you doing in a dump like this?”

I shook my head. His lines were cheesy, but they ate it up. Usually, I might get in on the action, but tonight, I wasn’t feeling it. I’d had a hard day of training, the alcohol was knocking me harder than usual, and I wasn’t in the mood to fuck.

“Let me buy you a drink. How does that sound?” Ryan asked.

When they nodded, he held up his hand.

“You see,” he said. “The drinks I offer aren’t for free.” The girls looked confused. “I have a plan. How about I buy the drinks, and you give me your numbers?”

They laughed, and I couldn’t believe it. I had game. I could pull girls when I wanted, but Ryan’s MO was completely different. Somehow, it worked for him.

He bought the drinks and got the numbers, and the girls joined us. We made ridiculous small talk that went in circles and offered nothing intellectually stimulating. I guess it wasn’t what anyone needed for a one-night stand, which was where it was headed with Ryan and one of the two girls. On any other night, I would have been down to bed the other one—whichever one because they were both hot and desperate—but lately, I’d been feeling like a good fuck wasn’t what it used to be.

“You’re pretty quiet,” Ryan said when the girls went to the ladies’ room to powder their noses and gossip about us.

I pulled up my shoulders, pushing the glass I had emptied around without ordering another drink. “I’m not in the mood,” I said.

“What does that even mean?” Ryan asked. “When a girl lands on your dick, you hardly need to be in the mood.”

“Don’t you ever feel empty afterward like it’s not enough?” I asked.

Ryan pulled a face at me. “What’s up with you, man? This talk about feelings and shit isn’t like you.”

I shrugged. It was unlike me, he was right. But lately, I had been feeling like there should be more to it, like I wanted something to be real instead of continuing with one-night stands and ending up with nothing to show for the efforts in my life.

“I’m having an off night, I guess,” I said, knowing Ryan wouldn’t understand what I was saying.

“Well, pick up your socks. They’re coming back.”

The girls walked to us, rolling hips, hair fluffed, and smiles bright. I put on a smile for show, but I knew I wasn’t going to sleep with one of them tonight. Ryan could have both as far as I was concerned.