The scenery of downtown Portland passes by in a blur. I haven’t been able to focus on anything since I left Chicago. Leaving Peyton, lying there and still unresponsive, was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. In fact, I don’t even know if I’ll stay in Portland. I know I made a commitment to the team, but my head is not in the game right now. Not when my heart is thousands of miles away, begging the one I’m in love with to stay with us.

When she made it through the first night, I thought for sure she was going to wake up. Her vitals improved, and finally, everyone jumped on my train and started encouraging her to open her eyes. She hadn’t by the time Tuesday afternoon rolled around and I was left with the decision to get fined by the team or head back home. I figure if I tell the coach what’s going on, he’ll understand and let me skip practice because like my friend Leo says, “it’s only practice.” And as much as I wanted to agree with Leo, we need the practice.

I was in two minds when I arrived back in Portland. Go directly to my coach’s house or go home. Neither seemed pleasant, but I chose the latter and now that I’m standing in front of the door to the apartment I share with Dessie, I’m preparing for the worst. I deserve whatever I’m about to walk into. I’ve ignored her for the past few days, choosing to focus on Peyton instead. No one, except for maybe my father now, understands my feelings for her.

I find my dad kneeling in front of the altar, praying. We’re not religious by any means and have spent our Sunday’s praying in front of the television by watching football. But it seems that you become so when a loved one is suffering.

Searching him out to discuss what he heard isn’t my idea of a good time, but while we were drinking the nasty coffee downstairs, Leo said something about how we should never leave doubt or speculation when it comes to a loved one. His words hit home hard. I’ve always been honest with my dad about everything, except when it comes to Peyton because I fear his reaction. I wasn’t honest with her, even though I’ve had plenty times where I could’ve been and now I may never get the chance to tell her exactly how I feel.

“Dad?” I feel horrible for interrupting him. He has his own demons he’s been dealing with for years, and I imagine being alone in a chapel is what he needs. Even though he wasn’t here when Mason died, he carries a tremendous amount of guilt over his best friends death.

“Noah?”

“I thought now would be a good time to have that talk.”

He stands and motions for me to sit down. My steps are slow as I walk toward the altar, eyeing the burning candles. The pew is hard and does nothing to comfort the aches and pains I’m feeling.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Your mom always tells me to start at the beginning because I’m less likely to get into trouble.” He smiles.

“I can’t be in trouble for what I’ve done, so maybe you’ll listen and understand where I’m coming from.”

“I’ll try,” he tells me.

I suppose trying is all I can ask for. Clearing my throat, I stare straight down at the ground. “For as long as I can remember, Peyton has been in my life. Everywhere I went she was there. Every holiday. Birthday parties, a family get-together, you name it, and she was there.”

“She’s family.”

I shake my head. “Not to me. When I was about fifteen, I started to notice her differently. I couldn’t stop thinking about her in ways that I shouldn’t. I’d cry at night because I thought I was going to go to hell for having those thoughts about her and hoped they would go away, but they didn’t. They grew stronger.

“I hoped that once I started dating, things would be different. But they weren’t. Every girl I dated, I compared to Peyton. No one has ever been good enough and it’s caused a lot of drama in my life, but I wouldn’t change it. Anytime Peyton would call, I’d drop whatever I was doing and pick up the phone. I’d talk to her for hours, ignoring whomever my girlfriend was at the time because Peyton made me feel that much better. When she called and told me she didn’t have a prom date, I told her I’d take her. She didn’t ask me, I asked her. Well, I pretty much told her it was happening. Prom gave me a full night of being next to her and I desperately needed it.

“We had been dancing all night when she asked me to get a room. I did, and did it without hesitating because I thought this would be the night that I get to finally tell her that I’m in love with her, and have been for years.”

“So because you were in love with her, you took her virginity?”

“Am.”

“Excuse me?”

“I am in love with her, Dad. And that night, I thought things were going to change for us, but I was wrong. I drove her out to the cliffs the next morning, preparing to tell her everything and she kept going on and on about college and how excited she was to start. I started evaluating my life, the craziness, and figured I didn’t want to burden her and kept my mouth shut.”

Dad shakes his head. “Man, you’re not too bright.”

“What?”

He looks at me and laughs. “You take a girl you just slept with to the cliffs… Peyton probably thought you were going to tell her that what happened between you should’ve never happened. She was saving face.”

My dad’s words hit me like a ton of bricks. Is that what happened?

“Do Katelyn and Harrison know?”

“I don’t think so.” I shake my head. “Maybe Elle, if anyone.”

“You’re lucky she didn’t end up pregnant.”

I grimace. He may see it as luck, but I don’t. She’d be mine if that were the case and wouldn’t have been in Kyle Zimmerman’s car.

“What are you going to do about Dessie?”

I tilt my head and take in a deep breath. “I’m going to break up with her.”

“Whether Peyton makes it or not?”

I nod. “I love Dessie, but it’s not the same. Whether Peyton makes it or not, my heart isn’t whole without her, and Dessie deserves better.”

The music is blaring when I step inside. There are a few girls, other models I presume, lounged out on my couch, and the place is trashed. They scramble to clean up whatever is in front of them and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out they’ve been doing drugs. I try to keep my temper in check as I head toward my bedroom door. I’m not prepared for what I might find behind it but open it nonetheless.

Dessie is standing there, with her tiny bathrobe on, looking at me. Her eyes narrow as her fist flies toward my head. She’s slow and easily blocked. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Get out,” she screams, coming at me again, but I’m able to pin her hands down and hold her to my chest. She squirms and tries to kick her way out, but I’m too strong for her. “I want you out.”

“It’s my apartment, Dessie.”

“Fine, I’ll go then.” This time I let her go and she starts pulling her clothes from our closet. All I can do is stand there and watch. I told my dad I was going to break up with her and the cowardly thing to do would be to let her go without saying anything, but I can’t.

“Dessie, we need to talk.”

“Why, so you can tell me you screwed that bitch?”

Rubbing my hands over my face, I sigh heavily. “She’s in a coma and she’s not a bitch.”

“Do you think I care, Noah?” she asks, getting into my face. “You’ve been gone for days and haven’t bothered to return a single one of my text messages or calls.” She comes over to me. I purposely avoid touching her, knowing I’m ending our relationship tonight. I should’ve known better than to assume we could be adults about this.

“I know, and I’m sorry, but I was dealing with a lot while I was in Chicago. She’s my best friend, and seeing her like that…”

“Yeah, well I’ve been dealing with a lot too while you’ve been gone.” She steps closer, backing me into the wall.

I scoff. “Like what, getting high?”

This time her open palm connects as she slaps me across the face. I deserve it, but not for calling her out for her drug use. I pull my lower lip in, sigh and shake my head. “I told you before I wouldn’t tolerate the drugs. At any given time, my place could be inspected, and yet you brought your trashy ass friends into my house and did who knows what while I’ve been holding a vigil for my best friend?”

“I told you, I don’t care.”

“Same.”

I storm out of the bedroom and take one look at her friends. “Get out,” I yell at them. They go scrambling as fast as they can, making sure they have all their paraphernalia with them. I look down at my coke-smeared coffee table. The sight of it disgusts me. It’s the piece of furniture that goes flying against the wall. Followed by my two end tables. I bend over at my waist to catch my breath, only to feel her hands on my shoulders.

“Noah… Noah, stop,” Dessie yells, but the damage is done. My living room is a wreck with shattered furniture everywhere. “It’s okay, baby.” The switch in Dessie’s tone doesn’t take me by surprise. I’ve been with her on enough photo shoots to be familiar with her Jekyll and Hyde routine. Although this is the first time she’s used it on me.

Righting myself, I move out from her under touch and look at her. “I’m in love with Peyton, Dessie.”

“What?”

My body sighs, almost as if saying those words out loud to her is some sort of relief. I suppose in a sense, it is. “I love her.”

“For how long?”

Shaking my head, I stare down at the ground, too cowardly to look her in the eyes. I was wrong to ever pursue anything with Dessie, but the pressure of looking a certain way for the league has weighed heavily on me.

When I finally find an ounce of courage to look at her, she steps back and shakes her head. “Have you slept with her?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

I nod, knowing that by admitting this, I’ve lied to her about my relationship with Peyton. “It was before you and I met.”

“Doesn’t matter, Noah. You told me you hadn’t, that nothing had ever happened between the two of you.”

“I know.”

“So how many times, huh? Are you sleeping with her when you’re at away games? Do you fly her there because she certainly doesn’t come to your home games? Do you screw her in our bed?

“I’ve been with her one time, Dessie. Like I said, it was before I met you.”

“I don’t believe you,” she scoffs. I knew she wouldn’t, which is why I never told her the truth. “Was the accident a ruse by your parents to get you away from me? Is that why you’ve been in Chicago to see her?”

“You really think that little of my parents?”

She shrugs. “It’s not like they like me. Your father didn’t even invite me to come with you to Chicago.”

Shaking my head. “The last words you said to me were something like, ‘It’s always about Peyton.’”

“Well, isn’t it?”

I nod without reservation.

“Fuck off, Noah.” Dessie rushes back toward the bedroom and slams the door. I do the same, except I leave the apartment and head to the basement garage where my car is parked. It feels good to be in control of the car, telling it when to turn, speed up or slow down. It’s the only thing in my life that I can tell what to do. I’d like to tell Peyton to wake up and have her listen, but she isn’t.

I find myself in the driveway of my coach’s house. As luck would have it, his wife is outside tending to her rose bushes on this rare warm winter day and waves, although I have a feeling she has no idea who she’s waving to.

“Hi, Noah. How are you?” she says as soon as I make my presence known.

“I’m good, just here to see Coach.”

“Go on in, you know where to find him.”

I do as she says and head toward his basement where he has a massive media room set up. Our last game is being shown and most of the coaches are here, watching it.

“Westbury, to what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Um…” I run my hand through my hair and motion for him to join me in his home office. He follows me in and takes a seat behind his desk. “Sunday afternoon, my best friend was in a car accident. You may have heard about it, Kyle Zimmerman was driving.”

“Oh, Noah. Yes, I had heard. I’m sorry. When is the funeral?”

I shake my head, understanding that ESPN had inaccurately reported the passenger in Zimmerman’s car died. “She’s hanging on by a thread. Peyton, that’s her name, she’s in a coma, and honestly Coach, my head and heart is in Chicago with her.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m not asking for time off, but I am asking that after the game this week I be excused from practice so I can be with her.”

“It’s a mighty big request.”

“I know, but until she wakes up I’m really not going to be of any use to you, physically or mentally.”

He nods but doesn’t answer my question. “Let’s see how this week goes, shall we?”

I shake his hand and excuse myself. I don’t know where I’m going to go, but the idea of heading back to my apartment doesn’t sit well with me right now, although I have a strong feeling things aren’t over between Dessie and I just yet.