“I’ll go with,” Maddie offers. “I could use something fresh myself. What about you, Sutton?”
“Pass. Too much homework.”
Plus, I should probably use the time to crack open the mascot binder and wash my smelly fur suit to get ready for tomorrow.
Go, Wildcats!
12
PARKER
Game daysin College Park are always a rollercoaster of emotions.
First is my personal favorite, waking up in a cold sweat like,Holy shit, did I oversleep?
Then, there’s the overwhelming enthusiasm of the fans screaming our names and calling out cheers as we make our way to the football building, quickly followed by,Fucking fuck. I’m in a hurry and don’t have time for another pic because Coach will castrate me if I’m late on game day.
Don’t get me wrong. Wildcat Nation is incredible. The town, the fans, the alumni. Win or lose, they support the hell out of us. It’s just that I’d like a little less support before I’m dressed and ready to take the field.
After? Bring it.
I duck my head and adjust my WU ball cap as Vaughn and I turn onto University Drive.
“You realize the hat doesn’t actually make you invisible, right?” he asks, quickening his pace.
A bead of sweat slides down my temple and I swipe it away. “It’s too damn hot for anything else.”
“Preach, brother.”
“Besides, not all of us can scare off our fans with just a look.”
Not like Vaughn. The guy might be a teddy bear on the inside, but his size, combined with the tats and beard, gives off strongfuck around and find outvibes, which come in handy as we approach the football building.
College Park is always a madhouse on game day. Traffic is bumper to bumper and there are tailgates and block parties as far as the eye can see. It’s pretty damn amazing, except for the fact that it’s taken us twice as long as it should to reach our destination.
Fortunately, we know the drill, so we left early.
Coach expects us in the locker room two hours before kick-off and not a moment later.
Or else.
Vaughn clears a path to the door and I follow.
Some guys might feel emasculated trailing in their teammate’s wake, but not me. Better Vaughn’s shadow than another dozen fan pics. Today’s a big day and I need to get dressed and get my head in the game.
We cross the lobby without drawing too much attention to ourselves and Vaughn peels off to hit the nutrition bar while I make a beeline straight for the locker room, head down, avoiding eye contact.
In addition to alumni and the usual media types crowding the halls, some of the guys have family in town. I pass one of our freshman receivers giving a tour and tug my hat lower.
It’s rare my parents can make it to a game, but I knew the distance would be an issue when I accepted Coach’s offer to play ball at Waverly. It’s a ten-hour drive from South Carolina to College Park and dropping mad cash on airline tickets isn’t in the budget.
It’s all good though.
They call me before every game and I know they’re gathered around the tv back home watching with friends and family. Plus, if my mom were to manage regular visits, it would just mean more frequent inquisitions regarding my grades and love life.
Hard pass.
I swing a right at the end of the hall and as I turn the corner, I collide with someone moving in the opposite direction. The air punches out of my lungs and I take a step back.
