Playing to Win (The Players)

It’s Saturday. Game day. Another one played at home and against our biggest rival, so the crowds are thick in the stands. Pretty sure the stadium sold out and even though we’re in the locker room, I can hear the roar of their voices, cheering along with the band, who came out early to put on a special performance.

My stomach is in absolute knots. I’m freaked the fuck out and think I might puke.

“You look green,” someone notes as they pass by me.

“Gee thanks,” I mutter after he’s gone, annoyed. All eyes are on me. My teammates. My coaches. Every fucker out there ready to watch me either win this game or…

Lose it.

I refuse to lose it.

“You okay?”

I turn to see Evan standing in front of me, a look of concern on his face. This guy is different from the majority of my teammates. He’s not such a macho asshole all the time. In fact, Evan doesn’t ever really act like that at all. Not that the rest of the guys on my team are complete dicks, but Evan is a decent human.

And I appreciate that more than he could ever know.

“I’m nervous,” I admit truthfully. Something I never do because I prefer to keep up the pretense that I’ve got my shit handled. If anyone ever saw a lick of doubt in my face or actions, forget it.

They’d lose all faith in me.

I’m supposed to be the team leader. I can’t show weakness. I need to be strong and prove to everyone—my team, our coaches, our fans—that I’ve got this.

But damn, sometimes the pressure just gets to me.

At least practices are going better for me. Just having Ruby on the sidelines almost every day is enough to keep me going. To the point that even when she’s not there, I feel okay. Because I know she’s going to be there again.

Eventually.

“Bro. You’ve totally got this.” Evan offers his hand and I take it, giving him a high five. He clasps hold of my hand, giving it a shake, his gaze locked on mine. “You’re going to kill it out there.”

“I hope so.”

“Nah, man. Don’t put that uncertainty out into the universe.” This comes from Javier, who’s just approached us. “You gotta say without any doubt that we’re going to destroy them. We’re on our home turf. We’ve got this. You’re going to be great, QB.”

“Put it out into the universe?” I ask, scratching the back of my neck.

Javier rolls his eyes. “Listen, that’s my girl talking. She’s always saying stuff like that. She talks about manifesting and shit. It sounds like a load of crap, but I’m starting to think she’s onto something. Like, that kind of thinking works, you know?”

“Sure.” I nod, having no idea what he’s talking about. Manifesting?

All I do know is that I’m jealous of his relationship. Jealous he can have one and I can’t. And I’m the guy who didn’t want a relationship. Who avoided that sort of thing because I couldn’t commit.

Now I actually want to commit and she can’t do it. It fucking sucks.

I wonder sometimes if it’s the fact that we can’t be together, and that’s why I want Ruby so much. We always want what we can’t have, right?

Shit, I don’t know. What I do know is I’m going out of my mind and if I’m not thinking about football, I’m thinking about her. She haunts me day and night and I don’t know how to get over her.

The problem? I don’t want to get over her. I enjoy wallowing in my obsession with the one and only Ruby Maguire. Having her out on the field during practice when the social media team joins us, I’m always relieved when I see her smiling face. Hell, I play along with her schemes and let her film some of us as we mouth the words along to trending songs and make goofy ass posts for them. I look like a damn fool, but she reassures me that the fans are eating this shit up. Especially the women.

It’s wild, how much our social media followers have grown since Ruby and Gwyneth implemented their ideas. I’ve been keeping track and they’re killing it. Ruby even encouraged me to post some of their content as well and she sent a few videos to me, which I put on my social media and now mine is growing too.

That girl is smart. Savvy. Kind and funny and why all the guys on the team don’t flock to her leaves me confused. And grateful.

I might have to kick someone’s ass if they make a move on her. It might be unspoken, but that girl is mine.

She belongs to me.

Maybe they sense my feelings toward her. I don’t know. I’ll make any excuse to talk to her, but it never feels like enough. I want more. More time with Ruby. Listening to her. Watching her smile. Hearing her laugh. I’m completely entranced with her and it’s fucking killing me that we avoid each other.

Well. For the most part.

Still think about that moment in the bathroom, though. It’s taken permanent residence in my brain—might’ve helped me through a few lonely nights when I only had my hand to keep me company.

There is nothing I enjoy more than getting Ruby off. Seriously. It’s my favorite thing to do. Maybe even more than football.

It’s pretty damn close.

Just knowing that we’re in this together, that we seem to feel the same way about each other—it’s reassuring and eases some of my game playing anxiety. And while I’m a fucking nervous wreck on game day, I remind myself I just have to push through it. I can do this.

I can.

Coach eventually calls us over so he can give us a rousing speech. This one is more encouraging than usual, because we’re out for blood. We haven’t lost to this team since before Cam was our quarterback and now that I’m here, I need to maintain the record.

“You just know they’ve poured over our game film,” Coach Mattson says near the end of his speech. “Just like we’ve poured over theirs. They’re looking for any way they can take down Ace, but we’re not going to let them. Y’all need to guard that boy with your life. No sacks today. I refuse to let it happen.”

My linemen all nod, grumbling their agreement.

“And there will be no interceptions either.” Mattson points right at me. “We can’t afford any mistakes out on that field. If they outplay us, that’s one thing. But if we keep making stupid mistakes that give them the advantage? Then we handed the game to them. We can’t do that.”

“Right,” I say with a nod, breathing deep. “We’ve got this.”

I have to believe it. Believe in myself. If I don’t, I’ll just fuck up and do as Coach says.

Hand them the win.

Well, fuck that.