We're not in love. Our past is a dumpster fire. The best we are is friends with benefits... without the friends' part.
Jake Harrison, USC's star quarterback, goes through girls faster than jock straps. If that's not disgusting enough, he's my best f...
"Fuck yeah!!" Jackson hollered out loudly from where he stood up on his bench. "Division champs, baby!"
He wasn't wrong, our 62-33 win, where I was accountable for six touchdown scores, cemented us the PAC-12's Southern Division title. The locker room celebrations dulled around me, fuck even Coach Campbell's recognition speech about enduring through adversity and giving me the game ball went in one ear and out the other. My hands slapped through the motions of high fives, fist bumps, and shoulder pats as I weaved back to my locker, where I stripped down one sweaty layer at a time until just the last one clung to my body.
Trust was key among teammates and I felt slighted against one of my guys. We were as strong as our weakest link, and we had one weak enough that someone had exploited that. Thankfully, the entire team rallied around me, or more likely Earl's rally cry, but their support wasn't enough that I now looked at each of them critically.
Evan's sister is a social media influencer.
Zach's girlfriend hates mine and her roommate... is a fucking mess.
Drake? Fuck, don't get me started there...
"Jake? A word please?" A male reporter shoved a microphone near me. Before my mouth parted, Coach Campbell stepped right in and shoved it aside.
"Only in the press room from now until the end of the playoffs," he snarled quietly, which tucked the reporter's tail under and he scurried out with short, quick steps.
For better or worse, Coach had locked our phones down during the game. Once over, I knew the guys flipped through their accounts, but Coach had other ideas.
"Damage control time!" he roared out, his voice echoed off the lockers, benches, and walls. "All personal phone use will not be tolerated during the playoffs, starting now each and every one of you will lock this outside influence shit down!"
After a few mumbled, "Yes Coach," replies, his eyes narrowed at the room. "Am I clear!?"
"Yes Coach," we echoed louder, despite a few slumped shoulders.
"Oh fuck," Zach cursed down at this phone screen. His dark eyes lifted and met mine. The flicker of sympathy they flashed was the only sign I needed that my drunken confession as the game's pregame entertainment wasn't all I needed to worry about. "It's viral, bro. I'm sor-"
Coach's roared out threat silenced the entire room. "Campbell, shut that outside shit off unless you want me permanently smashing that phone!"
With a sigh, I sat down, pulled out my phone, and locked all of my accounts for no future comments. I should've done that sooner, we all should have, because the video had been shared across all our sites, hundreds of times on mine.
With Coach's permission and sadly supervision from his staff, the entire team stayed behind for two hours after the game ended. Phone by phone, teammate by teammate, the entire room went delete-happy until Coach Campbell felt satisfied enough that he released the team for the showers. After two hours, the entire locker room smelled the worst mix of post-game dirt, grime, sweat, and body odor I'd ever smelled.
"Forget about it, bro." Evan slapped his hand in the middle of my damp, post-shower chest. "I know exactly what we need. As champs, let's celebrate tonight."
My eyes lifted because that sounded like the exact opposite of what I needed, or wanted, and collapsed down onto the bench with a sigh.
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