Camryn Quinn is finally getting what she wants...sort of. Moving into a dorm and away from her not so supportive father is a good first step, but like everything with him, it comes with strings. She must attend the college of his choosing for at lea...
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I somehow found myself talked into attending yet another game with Alyssa. This time, taking advantage of the club seats my father keeps offering to avoid the bipolar whether that is September in Ohio.
I keep telling myself my sudden willingness to not put up a fight against football has nothing at all to do with Taylor, or the fact that he asked me what my favorite part of a game was. It seems to be a new tactic of his. Instead of finding ways to make me spaz, he instead begs me for information about myself. Which could also be a way to make me spaz because his whinny voice is annoying. I'm usually a cold front, impenetrable, but something in the air shifted me, I thawed just a little. I engaged him in a little guessing game.
"Let me guess," he had said with a finger to his lip, "watching the band perform at halftime?"
I hate that he knew my favorite part wouldn't be related to the actual game of football. I hadn't shared much with him in our short time working together, he had at least respected that rule set in place, but I hadn't exactly shied away from my dislike of people who voluntarily wear pads and tights who tackle each other for fun.
Talking about my favorite part of each game also reminded me of my least favorite thing. Specifically about an article that was printed a couple of seasons ago to celebrate my dad's fifth season with the Bulldogs. The reporter faked a quote, saying that Cal's and my favorite part came after every win. The moment my dad runs and plants himself on the fifty yard line and points to our family's box. He always ignores the chaos around him, and never does an interview until his little ritual is over.
"Because everything I do and am is because of them."
He has been quoted on several occasions giving a nod to his family as his saving grace amongst the hectic world that is his job. It's the biggest hunk of shit I've ever read, but the media eats up the family man. I think it's the real reason he persuaded Callan to play football here. News outlets love the chance to interview and report on the Quinn Legacy unfolding on the field.
I didn't share that part with Taylor, though. Instead, I cursed under my breath at his correct analysis of me. I've either lost my touch, or he's a wizard who can magically uncover my truths. Either way, I decided to fib, "Actually it's watching the band run on the field to preform before the player's even run out. When the whole stadium is singing along." I can still picture it, the harmonizing sound of a hundred thousand pride filled fans. You have to be some sort of Satan worshiper to not like hearing an orchestra of instruments working together to produce something beautiful.
I denied his request to sing him a couple of bars. He's only ever witnessed it from field level, and even then his focus is elsewhere. I promised to take a video from the stands to give him a participants perspective.
I'm not in the business of letting anyone without the name Ryan Quinn down. It's the only reason I'm currently sitting in Club East enjoying chicken tenders with a squealing Alyssa by my side.
