Page 122 of Love, Literature, and the Linebacker

Chapter Thirty-Two

Dylan

The sound of laughter and music echoes through Bellevue Auditorium as I grab a water bottle from one of the coolers. It’s the team’s annual awards banquet, the last official gathering before spring break and the draft.

It should feel good.

Instead, it feels like noise bouncing off something hollow.

It’s been a few months since Lucy broke up with me. A few months of unanswered calls, unread messages, and silence so loud it feels physical. I went to her place once and stood on her porch like an idiot, hoping she’d open the door.

She didn’t.

I still don’t know how we got here. I thought we were building something. I thought we were solid.

Now, I don’t even know what we are.

The worst part isn’t the silence.

It’s the absence of the little things I didn’t realize mattered until they disappeared.

The way Lucy used to send me messages before games.

The way she’d show up with coffee when she knew I hadn’t slept enough.

The way she listened—really listened—when I talked about plays or practice or the million small frustrations that come with chasing something this big.

Without her, everything feels louder and emptier at the same time.

I still go through the motions. Practice. Meetings. Training.

But the center of it all feels different now because the thing that used to steady me quietly slipped out from under my feet.

I twist off the water bottle cap, wishing anything could dull the edge of the night.

If everything works out with the Larks, I’ve got a real shot at the dream I’ve been chasing since I was a kid.

And none of it feels like a win.

The lights are dim, green garland strung lazily along the walls. Guys are laughing, dancing, arguing over music.

Darnell spots me and makes his way over, beer in hand. He doesn’t wear his usual grin. He drops onto the bench beside me.

“How you holdin’ up?” he asks.

I shrug. “Not great.”

“Still radio silence?”

I nod, jaw flexing. “Won’t answer my calls. Won’t text. I went to her place.” I stare down at the bottle in my hand. “She wouldn’t even come to the door.”

Darnell exhales slowly. “Man… that’s rough.”

“Yeah,” I mutter. Rough doesn’t cover it.

“Have you tried catching her at the library?”

I shake my head immediately. “That’s her space. The one place she feels safe. I’m not going to corner her there.” My voice hardens. “That wouldn’t be fair.”