Outplayed - An MM, Double Bi-Awakening, College Roommates Romance

5. Chapter 5

After practice and a long speech from the coach, we headed out onto the field, greeted with boos and a sea of red. Regardless, the thrill and excitement coursed through me like a living thing. I lived for this. Breathed for this. Challenging games made my heart sing. Difficult games pushed my physical and mental boundaries, helping me to excel.

The marching band was loud as the fans cheered and stomped their feet to get their team, the Crimson Tide, motivated to defeat us. Not if we could help it.

The stadium offered a small section for dedicated Longhorn fans and parents wearing their burnt orange and white. While my parents wanted Ben and me to play football, they would never come to our games, claiming they were always too busy at the vineyard. They didn’t even watch when I played on TV, but Ben would, at least.

I rubbed my token hanging around my neck and shoved thoughts of my parents out of my head to focus on today’s game. The Longhorns were nothing to snuff at, but Alabama? They lived and breathed fucking football. It was in their blood, making them hard to defeat. Whether we won or lost, I knew we’d play our hardest.

I must’ve been zoning out because Ronnie tugged on my facemask, his mahogany skin already glistening with sweat from the heat and stadium lights. His dark brown eyes stared into mine. “You with me, man? You ready? Focused? In the zone? Because I need you. We’ve got to win this.”

I clunked his helmet with mine. “I’m ready. We’re going to kick some red tide ass.”

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about, baby! Your fingers are glue. Catch’em all and make us some touchdowns tonight.”

“You got it.”

Alabama held their own, no doubt about it, but we maintained the lead, barely, by two field goals. We started out strong by getting an interception after the second play in the first quarter. Unfortunately, it didn’t lead to a touchdown, but it pumped us up. At least we were the first to put points on the board.

Damn, if Bryce and the defensive lineman didn’t try their best to sack Alabama’s quarterback, but their offensive team was fucking amazing. They protected him as if their lives depended on it. I hated to admit it, but we could learn a thing or two from Alabama.

Fuck. The Tide gained the lead, 20-16, with a touchdown. Dammit. Now Ronnie and I were up. It was time to take it home and put us back in the lead. We were on the twenty-five-yard line, and once the ball snapped, I ran back to the fifty with a Crimson player right on my fucking heels. I dodged and ran the other way before Ronnie and I clicked like magnets. The ball came right to me. I had to jump to reach it, and I barely got it before I was tackled on the fifty-two-yard line, giving us the first down.

I lay there, stunned for a second. Being crushed by men who weighed a lot more than you could be suffocating. My opponent gave me a hand up before we trotted off to huddle and do it all over again. After the next turnover, I ignored the ass slaps and pats on the back, trying to stay in the zone, and focused as I rubbed my token, watching the game from the sidelines.

When I got back in there, we worked our way down to the end zone, and Ronnie handed it off to the running back, who dove it in for the touchdown.

By the end of the third quarter, fucking Alabama made another touchdown with a two-point conversion, putting us at only a two-point lead. Shit. It was getting too fucking close, and I grew too damn tired. We all were. The Tide ran us ragged, but we played our hardest.

Ronnie walked up and down the line, yelling at the defensive team to get their heads out of their asses and stop giving Alabama any more points. “And would somebody sack Crimson’s fucking quarterback!”

By the last quarter, the score was 27-24. At thirty-nine yards, I caught the ball and took off as fast as I could down the field. I had no idea who or how many ran after my ass. I just pumped my legs with nothing but the breeze on my sweaty face and the ball tucked into my side. Even the din of the crowd vanished as I kept right on going until I hit the end zone.

“Fuck yeah!” I yelled, slamming my fists against my protected chest at the sea of red in the stands. “Fuck yeah!”

This was what I was made for. This was pure bliss and better than sex. That drive to bring my team to the top, but I couldn’t get cocky. Experience told me that anything could happen, even at the last minute, which was why Ronnie planned on running out the clock by slowly pushing forward down the field when we had the ball again.

And that was it! After one more field goal by us, Alabama never recovered the ball, and we won 34-24.

The locker room was deafening as the boys rambled on and on about our win. The excitement became a tangible thing as it coursed through every one of us, still high on endorphins and adrenaline. While it was early in the season, this was a massive win and, hopefully, an indicator of how the rest of the season would go. When I walked in, several of them lifted me off my feet and squeezed the hell out of me. Bryce may have cracked a rib.

This right here was when I enjoyed the compliments because I earned them. I played my ass off and did well, helping to defeat a champion team.

Ronnie ruffled my sweaty hair after giving me a bro hug. “Well played, man. You were fucking fire tonight. We played like one machine.”

“So were you, man.”

“We’re fucking going places. You, Bryce, and me… we’re going pro.” Ronnie fisted my jersey with two hands and pulled me face-to-face. “And you fucking better. No more of this goddamn med school talk. You were made for this, baby.”

I gave him an encouraging smile I didn’t feel and quickly brushed aside the growing apprehension so I could live in the moment for now. And that was the problem. Do I live for my team or my parents? They pulled me in two different directions, and I struggled to meet those impossible expectations, but damn if I didn’t try.

But then I thought of Aspen, and how he lived as a damn free spirit doing whatever pleased him. Yet he could be responsible, too, paying his bills on time, working hard, and studying. I loved and admired his world, but it also made me a little jealous, wishing I had that sort of support from my indifferent family. He was someone to aspire to. I wished I had his strength.

“It’s party time!” one of my teammates yelled, making me laugh.

“Listen up!” the head coach said, grabbing our attention. “This win was a good one! You all played your hearts out, and it showed, defeating a champion team. But do not let the win go to your heads. We are very early in the season, and anything can happen. I want you to stay focused and sharp. Keep playing like you did tonight, and we could make it to the championships, but only through hard work, working as a team, and staying on track.”

“Yes, coach,” we yelled in unison.

“And be the responsible adults you are tonight, dammit. No trashing the hotel or keeping other guests awake. We need to be on our way to the airport by seven tomorrow morning to catch our nine a.m. flight. No oversleeping!”

“Yes, coach!”

When I got out of the shower later, my phone rang. I pulled it out of my locker to see Ben calling. I smiled and answered.

“Holy shit, Coop! What a fucking game!” he yelled on the other line.

I grinned so broadly that it hurt my face, loving to have family proud of me, and my older brother always was. “Thanks, Ben.”

“God, you’re better than I ever was. Football is in your blood and soul. And that fucking catch near the end of the fourth… chef’s kiss.”

I was definitely made for football, and it was one of the few things I was glad my parents pushed me into. But then I deflated, knowing it wouldn’t last. I’d have to say goodbye to my favorite sport when I graduated.

“Yeah, it was great,” I said, my excitement disintegrating like a wet paper bag.

“Coop…” Ben didn’t need to say anything. We’ve had this conversation enough.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine.”

“Look, I gotta go. We’re about to head out for some food and drinks. Thanks for watching, Ben… and calling.”

He sighed on the other line. “Okay. Call me later, and let’s talk after some downtime.”

“Sure.”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

In the early afternoon of the following day, I walked into the apartment to the scents of chili, cumin, garlic, and onion. My stomach growled.

Aspen stood in the kitchen stirring what I assumed to be chili before he looked up at me. His eyes lit up as he dropped everything and came running at me. Just when I thought he was about to tackle me, he stopped in his tracks, shaking with excited energy. I swear he was like a pent-up golden retriever needing to be cuddled by his owner.

“Coop! That… That was amazing! You’re gonna be famous or something. I can feel it in my bones.”

I huffed a tired laugh, not wanting to argue about the trajectory of my life.

“You watched it?”

“Tried to, but I was working. We had it on the big screens, but I got to see your last play. Fucking awesome!”

Aspen was still bouncing as if trying to contain himself. From what, I had no idea.

“What?”

“Can I hug you?”

“Uhm… sure?”

He came barreling at me and wrapped his bare arms around me, giving me bro pats on the back, but before I could decide what to do with my arms, feeling weird about touching his bare back, he pulled away. “I can’t believe I’ve got a football star for a roomie.”

“Not quite,” I laughed, following him back into the kitchen.

He lifted the wooden spoon and stirred the chili again before plopping two chipotle peppers in adobo sauce into the mixture. “I’m making chili for dinner.”

“I can see that. Smells delicious. I didn’t know you could cook, Asp.”

He laughed and shrugged. “I get that a lot. It must be my lazy vibe. Anyway, Mom and Dad taught us how to take care of ourselves, from growing crops to cooking our own meals to tinkering with cars. I don’t always feel like cooking. It’s no fun cooking for one, but I’ll do it more now that I’ve got someone to cook for.”

“You don’t have to cook for me.”

His face turned curious, with furrowed brows. “But I want to.”

And that was how you summed up Aspen Harper. He only did what he wanted to.

“Then I’ll chip in for groceries.”

His smile was broad, and he bumped his shoulder against mine. “Deal.”