“The scrimmage is in two days,” Coach announces as we drag ourselves to the bench. “This is the final round that will solidify the roster. We’re down to the wire, gentlemen.” His eyes cut through me. “This is not the time to slow down. It’s time to get your head in the game. At this point, distractions will cost you.”
“Yes, Coach!”
“Get outta here. Get some rest,” he says, chucking his chin at the hallway that leads to the lockers.
The locker room is tensely quiet.
Coach’s warning was the gunshot signaling the start of the race and waking up all the contestants. For the past few weeks, we spent every moment together as teammates, colleagues, friends and brothers.
But now, the gloves are off.
The truth is, your closest friend is your toughest competition.
I’ve been in this position before, when I was preparing for the league. It’s a cut-throat business and, like Coach said, what separates one player from another is his ability to put it all aside and win.
I have confidence in my ability to bring results and I’ve been working hard every night, studying the tapes, waking up early to work on my speed, looking for that competitive edge that’ll put me over the top.
It was all going to plan until….
I lower my head and run my fingers over my scalp in frustration. This isn’t her first time being frosty with me. The day I came to apologize after the fair, she was distant too, but something about today feels different.
Or maybe I’m the one who’s different.
“You look stressed, Campbell,” someone says on their way to the shower.
I force a chuckle and say something in response, something dumb. I don’t know. I barely think about it. I grab my things from my locker, hit the shower and come out feeling a little more rational.
Okay. Riley doesn’t want to talk to me.
Fine.
Maybe taking a break from her is a good thing.
She needs to focus on her garage, and I should be focusing on hockey and protecting McLanely’s proposal.
On that note, I pull out my phone.
Nat: Where are you?
Layla: Why?
Nat: Because I’m your babysitter for the foreseeable future.
Layla: That’s no fun.
Nat: Life isn’t fun. Where are you?
Layla: At this place called The Tipsy Tuna.
Layla: Chance McLanely’s girlfriend is here too.
I launch out of the stadium and speed it to The Tipsy Tuna. On the way, I call Chance to let him know that Layla is hovering around April.
“That woman’s insane,” Chance mumbles.
He has no idea.
“I’m going to intercept Layla. Try to get April out of there.”
