It’s been a year and a half since Stella broke up with me, but I still remember that night like it was yesterday. I could practically see the betrayal in her emerald green eyes, even though all I had was her voice telling me to rot in hell.
I’d give anything to take back that moment, to tell her I was an idiot for not believing her, for not seeing Elaine for who she really was.
I tried to apologize so many times, but Stella is the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met. Once she decides on something, there’s no changing it. She ignored every text, dodged me in the hallways, and treated me like I was nothing more than a terrible memory.
I had no one to blame but myself. The final blow came on prom night.
Elaine stood onstage, grinning ear to ear in that obnoxiously glittery dress with the crown for prom queen on her head.
I didn’t want to be there, but as king, I didn’t have a choice.
The second she grabbed my arm and pulled me beside her, my eyes searched the crowd, looking for Stella.
I felt the world slow when I found her.
She was standing at the edge of the dance floor, wearing the periwinkle halter dress we had picked out together months ago. It hugged her in all the right places, her jet-black hair woven with delicate flowers.
She was breathtaking.
But the moment our eyes met, I saw it. Hurt. Disappointment. The type of heartbreak that guts you.
I had ruined her.
I tried one last time on graduation night. I watched from the throng of students as she crossed the stage, her chin high, her smile radiant.
When they announced she’d be attending the Virginia School of Design for a Bachelor of Fine Arts, everyone around us started to cheer. I wondered how her parents were taking the news. Was this the first time they heard about this? Are they happy she is doing what makesherhappy?
They always told Stella that she had to major in business and stay local to take over Carrington Caskets.
Pride swelled in my chest. My girl had followed her dream.
No. She's not my girl anymore.
I pushed through the crowd, determined to talk to her before she left. But as soon as the ceremony ended, she was gone. Just like that, my last chance to fix things disappeared.
Two weeks later, I packed my bags and hit the road, heading to Alabama to chase my dreams, playing for the top-ranked SEC football program, Huntsville University.
I wanted to make something of myself, to earn my place in the league, and maybe one day get drafted by the Phoenix Blazes.
That dream ended just as quickly as it began. I only played one season before everything fell apart.
During the college playoffs, our starting quarterback came down with some virus that nearly sent him to the ER. Thatmeant I had to step up as a freshman and lead the team during the most important game of the season.
We were down at halftime, and the pressure was suffocating. I sat on the locker room bench, my head in my hands, trying to drown out the noise.
Lockers slammed shut, and teammates muttered about missed plays and terrible calls. I opened my locker and stared at the picture taped inside. Stella and I are at the Lakes Dale Winter Faire. My best friend Mac had captured the moment perfectly: Stella laughing, her hand in mine, a Mega Gulper in her other hand. I was holding a piece of cotton candy, grinning like an idiot. She was my good luck charm. I had taped that picture inside every locker I used.
Coach Lion stormed in, his face red with frustration. “D'Angelo! Get your head out of your ass and complete your passes! Atler. What part of protecting the quarterback don’t you understand?” His voice boomed through the locker room, spit flying as he slammed a locker shut.
Then, just as quickly, his face softened. “Look, boys, I’m proud of each of you. You’re overthinking it. Get out of your heads and play the game you were born to play. Let’s go back out there and scorch this stadium. Let’s go, Dragons!”
That was the last time I ever stepped on the field.
On the first play of the second half, the opposing linebacker broke through my defensive line like a wrecking ball. I felt his arms wrap around me, his helmet slamming into mine with a sickening crack. My body hit the ground hard, the football slipping from my hands. Then I felt it.
POP
White-hot pain tore through my knee. I couldn’t move. I could barely breathe.
