The Brotherly Shove

3. Lennon

CHAPTER 3

LENNON

August

Four Years Ago

Penwood University

"You ready for some fresh meat?" the dude on my right — number 72 — asks, bumping my shoulder and almost knocking me on my ass as I exhale and lift myself out of a front lunge. You'd think after a year of playing together last year, I'd remember his name. But in my defense, I'm a center and he's a defensive lineman. It's not like we're ever on the field together. But still, I take a peek at his back to see his last name. Even being the forgetful mother fucker that I am, not knowing my teammate's names is bad form.

Anyway, I straighten myself, shooting Miller (first name still a mystery) a semi-dirty look for fucking up my form.

"Isn't it a little cliche to refer to the new guys as fresh meat?" I ask as I open and close my arms, stretching my shoulders and upper back muscles. To be honest, I'm not looking forward to the new players at all. This is only my second year of college ball, but if it's anything like high school, the new guys are going to throw off the vibes. It always takes forever to get the young bucks situated and gelling with the team.

I should know, last year I was the young buck who struggled to gel. I came in hot and heavy like a bull in a china shop, eager to prove myself and get as much field time as possible.

Spoiler alert: I snapped two backward passes in my first game, made a total dick of myself, and then spent the rest of the first half of the season with my ass warming the bench.

Needless to say, if the new crew is anything like my dumbass was when I got here, then it's gonna be a rough few weeks.

"Nah, man," Miller drawls out. Honestly, I forgot he was next to me. "We watched some of their game tapes before the Tau Kappa E party last night. The baby quarterback from Philly is green as fuck. I'm surprised the coaches even bothered scouting him, and rumour has it the kid is gonna be starting right off the bat. It's like coach is suddenly allergic to winning or something."

"Great, that makes me so much more excited for today. Thanks man, truly." I have no idea if the guy sense my sarcasm when he puts his hand out for a fist bump that I reluctantly return. He does get me thinking, though. I paid no attention to the rumors of who the coaches might be looking to recruit last year. It's none of my business. I'm here to play football and hopefully finish my business degree with a 3.0 GPA, that's my only focus.

Had I known I'd have a brand new quarterback thrown on the field behind me fresh from his mother's womb, I might've done my research.

Interesting, though, that we've got a Philly boy joining us. I went to high school in the 'burbs out there, close enough to the city that there were a handful of city high schools that we regularly played against. Whoever this new kid is, there's a possibility that we've been on opposite sides of the field before. That could be a good sign.

Maybe.

I don't know. I'm suddenly very nervous.

Coach Simmons blows his whistle and I join my teammates, jogging out to the fifty yard line for our pre-practice pow wow. I take a quick scan around and notice a few new faces, and I shoot a silent prayer up to anyone who might be listening that their introduction to the team and playing Division I college ball goes better than mine.

"Alright men, let's get to it," Coach's voice booms out. "I have a long list of drills I want to run today, so quick introductions only. We've got nineteen new Panthers this season joining us from high schools around the country. I have personally vetted each and every one, and I'm confident in our roster. You'll all meet each other as we rotate through today and the rest of the week, but I want to call out one particular individual. Lawson?"

Coach looks expectantly towards the back of the crowd, and I turn to see a blur of a maroon t shirt, black athletic shorts, and floppy brown hair jogging to the front of the group. He stops at Coach's side, and I…

Wow. My stomach does a surprising flip.

The guy currently looking out at all his new teammates with a sheepish grin and a pink blush tinting his cheeks is the most beautiful person I've ever seen in my life.

Objectively speaking, of course. I'm not into guys, but this one has a real 'young Ryan Gosling' thing going on, if Ryan Gosling had bright, gold flecked hazel eyes and brown hair woven with strands of gold and auburn that seem to shimmer under the summer sun.

His hair looks soft. I wonder if it is. I wonder if he'd let me run my hands through it, feel its silky smoothness on my skin.

Ya know, for science.

He fiddles with his hands as Coach goes on and on about him. I only catch about half of it. I'm too busy being fucking hypnotized by the way the tendons in the guy's hands flex as he cracks his knuckles one by one.

" Blah blah blah Breaker Lawson from Northeast High. Blah blah blah potential for greatness. Blah blah blah Panthers are going all the way."

How can I be bothered to listen to Coach talk when all I want to do is get close to this new quarterback and figure out what his deal is. It's like a gravitational pull beckoning me towards him. I have to actively work to keep my feet planted to the ground so that I don't run up there and just…what? Stand next to him?

I don't know what I want to do. I just know that proximity to Breaker Lawson feels like a biological necessity radiating from my very core.

I'm only broken from my trance when Coach snaps in my face and I realize that my teammates have broken off around me and only the three of us are left standing there. Trying to take my eyes off of Breaker makes my eyeballs feel like they're rolling around in molasses instead of…whatever kind of icky body stuff eyes usually roll around in.

"Tell me you're not already in la la land, Griffith," Coach says, giving me his sternest look.

"No, sir. I'm sorry, I had the jitters last night. Didn't sleep well," I say as I pull my hair out of the knot on top of my head and flip my head over to retie it. Why am I doing this? I don't fucking know. I just need to do something with my goddamn hands.

"I said that I want the two of you together today. Breaker," Coach turns to the new guy and gestures his head towards me. "This is Lennon Griffith. Get used to the site of his ass, you're gonna be spending a lot of time with it in your face this year." Breaker snorts, and his whole body gyrates with the movement.

"It's so good to meet you, Lennon. I've spent a lot of time over the last few months studying up on your game, and I'm confident we're gonna make a good duo out there." He holds his hand out for me to shake, and my body moves before my mind can catch up to what I'm doing. I take two giant steps forward and wrap Breaker Lawson in the biggest bear hug I'm able to muster.

"Handshake, so formal. I'm a hugger, my dude," I tell him as I squeeze. I'm actually not really a hugger at all. I mean I hug my parents. I hug my girlfriends. My teammates are usually privy to my signature 'one armed dude pat'.

But like I said, gravitational force. I can't help myself. I'm fully compelled to wrap my arms around him by some force bigger than me.

I feel Breaker pat my back, and I'm suddenly very self conscious about any possible sweat marks he might be feeling. I pull away from him quickly, giving him a simultaneous tap on each shoulder. He smiles up at me, showing off his pearly white teeth, and I stare back at him, needing to memorize every freckle speckled across his adorably crooked nose but not really understanding why.

I mean, is this attraction? It sort of feels like it, but if it is…

That's new.

Coach clears his throat, and I drop my gaze so fast I nearly give myself a headrush.

"Right, well you two, five laps and then I want you running shotgun snap drills. Got it?"

Breaker and I both nod, and I fall in step next to him as we start our laps.

A few hours later, I've come to the conclusion that my dude crush on Breaker clearly stems from the natural chemistry we have on the field together. Even having just met this morning, we've already meshed. Coach paired us up immediately after our cardio warm ups, and from the first set of drills—even the ones where I was throwing the ball for him to catch, as if I was the QB and he was a wide receiver — we just clicked. He can anticipate my moves just as well as I can feel exactly where he is behind me when I'm snapping the football. The guy has the grip strength of a fucking gorilla and the accuracy of a young Joe Montana.

This morning, I could've shit my pants over the fact that an untried nineteen year old would be at the helm of the team this year. Now?

Fuck. If Breaker plays like he practices, the Panthers are going to be unstoppable.

"B!" I call out, testing out the oh-so-clever nickname I came up with earlier as I wrap a towel around my waist and follow him out of the showers.

"Yeah?" he asks. He doesn't turn around, just continues his beeline to the lockers. Okay, a little shyness, maybe? I turn my back while he changes.

"There's a party at one of the houses on frat row tonight. A pre-school thing at TKE. The guys can be kind of douchey, but they always spring for the good beer and they're right across from the women's soccer house. Wanna go?" I ask, waggling my eyebrows at the thought of hot athletic girls and kegs of something other than Natty Light.

"Meh," is all I get in response.

"Seriously? Most freshman I know would kill for an invite to a party before the semester even begins." I turn, confident that I've given him enough time to at least get his underwear on. He's already fully clothed and pulling a hoodie over his head. Dude dresses like a ninja.

"Don't get me wrong, I like a good party. It's just…" he trails off, and his cheeks turn the same shade of pink they were earlier when Coach introduced him.

I give him my best 'go on' look while gesturing for him to continue.

"Fine," he sighs. "Don't make fun of me, but the new Legend of Zelda game came out last night, and I've been dying to play it all day. It's all I could think about when Coach had us running lines before lunch." He smiles sheepishly down at his shoes, and I bark out a laugh. Not because I want to make fun of him, but because playing that game alone in my apartment had been my original plan for tonight.

I throw my athletic bag over my left shoulder and wrap my right arm over Breaker's shoulders. I lead us towards the locker room door.

"Breaker, Breaker, Breaker," I say in a sing-song. "You and I are going to be best friends, I just know it. Now, we playing Zelda at your place, or mine?"