The Pitcher's Act

4

COLBY

Letting Blondie help fix my knee the other day just about ruined my fucking ego. Everything I had to use against her is officially gone. We are technically even. As soon as she turned that corner into the room, I almost got up and left. Jayden was the one who made me stay. His words hit me when he said, "It's not that deep," I truly realized it wasn't. I didn't like her winning. It won't happen again; I'll be sure of it.

It's Saturday night at Wake Forest, and the athlete's village is alive. Today, our football team took an embarrassing loss against Notre Dame, but the football team is partying to fix the damage. They party no matter the outcome of the game, which is why I fuck with them. They aren't sore losers. It's hard to be a sore loser when you're a small division one school playing against the best teams in the nation. We don't play to win. We play for ourselves.

I was in my apartment with my roommates and a few other guys on the team. Oh, I can't forget our cleat chasers. They're my favorite. A brunette named Faith sits halfway on my lap, nibbling on my neck while the guys and I watch a football game. She's been my little fuck buddy for a while now. She constantly asks for a relationship that I can't give her. Well, not can't; won't. I don't want to be tied down, especially when I know she's not the one I will end up with. She's just a filler for my time.

"What are we doing tonight, boys?" Bryce says as he walks in the door, a twenty-four pack of beer in his hand and a bottle of Jack Daniels in the other. My roommate was an alcoholic. He couldn't sit still without having a drink in his hand. I'm positive he's taken a drink to class multiple times before.

Jayden shifts his girlfriend, Addie, who's on his lap next to me, "I'm going to the football house if anyone wants to join."

Those fuckers will party over anything. Lose a game? Drink their sorrows. Win for the only time of the season? Throw a party.

"I'll go. I haven't seen Bernie and Miller in a minute," Crawford says, boxing up his beers for the road.

Being an athlete at a division one school is hard. You are constantly being fucking watched. One wrong move, and you're toast. The entire world will know about it tomorrow. We have to be extra careful when we party on the weekends away from our place. We can't be caught with drinks in our hands, so we usually stuff everything into a backpack. We are over twenty-one, so technically, we can't get in trouble if we're seen with drinks in our hands, but we are athletes, and everyone always expects us to be perfect. Coach is the one who will punish us if caught.

"You comin', Jonesy?" Crawford asks as he zips up his backpack.

"Yea. I gotta pack some drinks," I tell him, and then I look at Faith, "Up." She obeys, standing to let me get up, and flops back down on the couch when I walk away.

I walk to my room and grab my backpack to store some drinks. My room was pretty bare. I had two flags hung as decoration, and that was just about it. One was an American Flag hung above my bed, and the second was a Wake Forest University flag. I had a framed photo of the four of us, my best friends, in our baseball uniforms after a game last season. Jayden's mom gave us all a copy as a move-in present. My bed was, of course, unmade, like it was every day, my headset and controller for my Xbox laying on it, begging to be put on and played.

My window faced the next-door neighbor's house. I'm unsure who lived next door; I've never seen anyone come out. I also don't pay attention much. I'm typically always occupied, whether with my buddies or a girl.

I grab the bag and stuff about ten beers inside. That should do it for now. I can always come back. The football house was only four houses down, so it was a quick walk. We could hear the bass from their stereo from here.