The next couple of days went by without me seeing Lola. As much as I wanted to, it was probably for the best. For some unknown reason, I was becoming obsessed with a girl I didn’t even know. It wasn’t healthy, and for me, it wasn’t normal.

On the plus side, I had the big game to focus on, and providing I didn’t get benched this afternoon, I’d be starting. The Hawks weren't the best, but they were good. There would be no room for celebrating, at least not until the end of the game. They were renowned for their counter attacks, slipping a sly one in the back of the net when you least expected it. This game meant everything to the team, and one slip up or distraction could see us falling back into a long line of wannabe pro teams. It was that big of a deal.

Turning the key in the lock, I pushed open the door to my mum’s flat. It had been a few weeks since I’d last visited her. With college coursework and practice, I just didn’t have the time.

As I stepped over the threshold, I instantly regretted going. My nose was assaulted by the strong odours of vodka and stale cigarettes, but like usual, I shook away the anger I felt and remembered why I was there.

I called out to her, tossing my keys on the worn-out dresser.

“In here.”

I grimaced when I heard the slur of her words coming back at me and braced myself for what I was about to see. I inhaled a deep breath and slowly blew it out as I turned the handle and stuck my head around the door.

A male voice called out from the bedroom, which wasn’t unusual. Mum had a lot of men on the go. Sometimes it was hard to keep up with who was and wasn’t on the scene at any given time. I ignored the way that admission made me feel as I took in the sight of the woman who gave birth to me. “Mum?”

“About time you showed up. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about your dear old mother,” she choked out through a cough.

I dropped to the couch beside her and kissed her cheek. The stench of alcohol was too much to take and I almost gagged. “How much have you had to drink?” I asked, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“Just the one. You know I sleep better when I have a drop of the hard stuff.”

A drop? It was hard to believe a damn word she said, especially when I clocked the empty bottles lined up on the table, pointing out the obvious. Seeing my mum like this was normal, but it never got any easier. If anything, it only got worse every time I saw her. I didn’t want to think of the effect the alcohol was having on her body, but it was hard to ignore. It was obvious in the way she looked. Her skin had become loose and her colouring had paled considerably. Her eyes were red raw and sunken with dark circles rimming the outlines. She didn’t look like my mum anymore. There was no twinkle in her hazel eyes, no emotion when seeing her only child. Nothing but emptiness stared back at me. Whoever this was, it wasn’t my mother.

“You shouldn’t be drinking. The doctor said—”

“Don’t you dare come into my home and tell me what I can and can’t do. I carried you for nine months. I fed and clothed you and changed your shitty nappies. Don’t. Just don’t.”

“Mum—” I began, but my words were cut short again.

“You’re upsetting your mum, boy. You heard what she said. This isn’t your home. Don’t come in here and pretend you care all of a sudden,” an overweight bald guy said from the doorway of the bedroom.

Boy? Who the fuck did this jackass think he was?

“Who the fuck are you?” I scoffed, and pushed up from the dirty brown sofa that had seen better days.

“It don’t matter who the fuck I am, kid. All you need to know is that I’m the one who’s been looking out for your mum here while you’ve been living the fucking dream at some preppy, overpriced school.”

“Yeah, well I’m here now, so get the fuck out.” I growled, my hands clenching into fists at my side. I wouldn’t bother to explain the ins and outs of college life to this scumbag. His alcohol infused brain wouldn’t understand.

“Stop it, the pair of you,” Mum attempted to shout as she continued to cough up a lung, clutching a tumbler filled with clear liquid. “Go in the bedroom, Bill. I’ll be there in a minute. I’m just gonna see Taylor out.”

Bill shrugged and did as he was told. He also had a bottle hanging from his fingertips. Everything made perfect fucking sense. Mum had bagged herself a drinking buddy who was more stupid than she was. Great.

“Mum, you can’t be serious? He’s a loser. You can do so much better than—”

“Like your father?” she interjected, disgust written all over her face.

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare mention that man in front of me.”

“Why? Worried you’re turning into him?” she goaded. “Don’t worry. There is no chance of that happening.” A smirk tugged at the corners of her chapped lips and I lost it, knocking the glass from her hand onto the floor. We both watched as it shattered at her feet, Mum’s face as shocked as my own.

“I warned you,” I spat out when I noticed her expression falling.

“Get out of my house, Taylor, and don’t you ever come back. I mean it this time. I don’t need you anymore.”

“You know what? Fine. Drink yourself into an early grave for all I care. I’m done!” I shouted,

tossing my hands in the air.

I wasn’t sure why I continued to come here. It always ended the same. If she thought I could sit beside her, ignoring the drinking and the men, she was seriously deluded.

I dodged to the left towards an open spot and threw my hand in the air. “Jake, I’m open,” I shouted, my hand falling back to my side as I continued to breathe in and out.

Jake’s eyes were focused on the ball at his feet. He glanced up when I called out to him. We locked eyes briefly before he flicked it up and bypassed Johnny who had hurried across the field to defend the ball. It hit my shin, and I quickly guided it onto my right foot, dodging a few tackles on my way up front. I glanced to my left then to the right before I slid the ball onto my left foot and shot straight ahead. Sweat lined my forehead and I swiped away at the few drops that had clung to my brow with the back of my hand.

“Nice one, kid,” Jake said, clasping my shoulder. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you this afternoon, but keep playing like that and you’ll soon be out of here and on to better things,” he added. I hoped he was right. I couldn’t play college football forever.

We shot back and forth for another thirty minutes, the tension weighing heavy on my shoulders. I’d seen my mum in a bad way so many times before, but today? I’d never seen her so out of it. And who the fuck was that dude? I wondered for a moment what Dad would say if he knew she’d met someone else, but then I remembered why he was in prison, and all the guilt I felt about my mum bumping uglies with some sorry arse alcoholic flew right out the window. They were both as bad as each other and if she thought for another second that I’d be witness to that shit then she was dead fucking wrong.

Coach eventually blew the whistle and I blew out a breath, hoping I’d impressed him enough to let me start. It was touch and go with him. If he was in one of his moods, I’d only have to look at him the wrong way or suggest a different play and he’d bench me without question. I was too focused on practice to worry about his constant PMSing, so I had no idea what mood he was in.

I kicked the dirt from the bottom of my boot and stretched my arms above my head.

“Come on, ladies. Hit the shower,” Coach yelled.

A chorus of Yes, Coach and Sir drifted passed me from every angle as I scrubbed my face and made my way inside.

Before I made it to the changing rooms, someone tapped my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks.

I turned my head. “Coach?”

“A word, Mr. Lawson.”

I tensed when my name fell from his mouth. I hated being called that. Mr Lawson was my father and I didn’t want to be associated with the name, or the man who carried it. Coach nudged his head in the direction of his office. My shoulders sagged as he continued on through as though he knew I would follow him. I did.

Fuck. What had I done now?

I followed him into the spacious surroundings of his office.

One wall was lined with windows that looked out onto the football pitch. Often I’d spot him gazing out onto the field during break time, lost in his own world. I imagined he was always conjuring up the next play or deciding if he was in a big enough funk to bench me or one of the others. It didn’t matter what I did. Just breathing rubbed him up the wrong way most of the time.

I glanced around the square room and took in the filing cabinets that sat in the far corner. Other than the huge oak desk that sat in the very centre of the room, the rest of the space was pretty bare. The single trophy that sat on the only shelf in the office appeared out of place. There wasn’t even a picture on the wall to show off his achievements. I don’t know why I found that odd, but I did. It definitely wasn’t your typical coach’s office, that much was certain.

“What’s up, Coach?” I finally asked.

Thorn eventually made his way behind the desk and plonked down on the huge leather chair that sat behind it. It creaked as he made himself comfortable. I watched as he fumbled with a bunch of keys and proceeded to unlock one of the drawers to the desk, pulling out a stack of papers. His eyes flicked back and forth over each one before he pulled one out and held it out to me.

“What’s this?” I asked, taking the sheet from his fingertips.

Coach scrubbed his jaw without say anything, so I let my eyes linger over the words that were printed before me. They were my test scores from last year and a few from recently. Why was he showing me this? It was only when I focused on the results that I began to realise why my coach was in possession of these results.

Fuck.

“This is bullshit, Coach. They can’t do this.”

He leaned forward, his hand pressed firmly against his forehead. “They can. And they will.”

“What does this mean?” I couldn’t lose my spot on the team. I had dreams. I was going places. No respectable club would touch me if I couldn’t even play for my college football team. I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“I had a meeting with Stokes. Look, son, I know what this team means to you. I see it in your eyes every day, but chances like this don’t come around too often. You know that as well as I do. Something has to give, Taylor. I need you on this team. The team needs you on this damn team, you hear me?”

I shook my head. I had no idea what this meant.

Clearing my throat, I tossed the paper onto his desk. “So, what now?”

“Well, first things first, you need to get your head on straight. Quit pissing around and knuckle down on your work. Convince Stokes that you aren’t just here for the shits ‘n’ giggles. For Christ’s sake, Taylor, you know this stuff. Why you ain’t reaching the standard is beyond me.” Coach shook his head as if he was confused.

Hell, even I was confused. I’d thought I was doing okay. I handed most of my coursework in on time. I paid attention in class… mostly. Fuck, I was so screwed.

“Look, Coach, I know I can—”

“Leave it with me.”

“But, Coach—”

“I said leave it with me. You just be ready to do whatever it is I tell you to do. And you will do it, Taylor, or so help me God, I will get rid of you myself.”

“Yes, Sir,” I said too eagerly. At this point I was ready to get on my hands and knees and beg for a second chance. Okay, maybe not quite, but I was fully prepared to grovel for my place.

“Good. Now go and take a shower.”

I nodded. “Sir.”

I blew out a breath and shook my head as I pushed my feet to move. “And well done today. You did good,” he called out, but I continued walking. It didn’t matter how well I played on the field. If I couldn’t hit the grades then I was done for.