Wide Open

f i f t y t h r e e

I check into the hotel with the team manager when I arrive. He hands me the key for the room I will share with Anderson tonight. Anderson isn't here yet, and I don't expect him to be until the team dinner starts. He's too busy getting his pregame fix before he's cut off from Alyssa until tomorrow evening. He has it bad, but won't admit it. Although I did catch a glimpse at his text thread on the flight last week. Lots of heart emojis and smiley faces, it's a real middle school love story. Not that I have much room to talk. It wouldn't take a genius to look through my messages and realize I've texted Camryn more in the last two weeks than I have any other girl. Between messages, phone calls, and our frequent visits, I've talked to Camryn more than I have any other girl, maybe ever. It's another reminder that I have to figure this situation out, and soon.

I'm already fucked, but it's only going to get worse if I don't cut it off. I have to tell her I can't be what she wants me to be. But that isn't even going to be the hardest part. I have to make sure she never finds out the truth. I can take her hating me for breaking her heart. What I couldn't stand is having her know I broke her trust too.

The elevator door pings and I step out onto the third floor. I search for my room number and slide the key in front of the black pad. I only step inside long enough to hang my suit in the closet and drop my bag onto my bed. My phone buzzes with another text from Camryn. She's only asked me ten times in the last two hours what time I'll be here. I let her know I'm here, but that I need a second before I can come rescue her from her family.

She's been extra quiet this week, but it has to be from the big step she's making this weekend. Her even being here is huge, but I know agreeing to come to team dinner with her dad is monumentous for her. I tried to tell her she could wait, that maybe Family Weekend wasn't the best time to make progress. Camryn can't stand when things are fake, and Coach will be pulling out all the stops this weekend to put on a good front in front of the alumni. But we've almost checked everything off the list and she feels satisfied with the progress we've made.

The next step was always to try and reconnect with her dad. I know she hates that word, reconnect. Reconnect is what you do when something has been turned off, she would say. You reconnect with someone like my dad, who walked out on me when I was younger. Instead she feels like her dad has been in her life, just distant for a majority of it. Flipping a breaker won't restore their relationship considering there wasn't a good connection in the first place. She confessed during a recent game of twenty questions that her biggest worry is that her dad won't try to understand her, that he won't be able to see past the wrong things instead of focusing on the right ones.

I didn't even have to pretend to agree with her. I've seen him do the exact same thing with players, myself included when I first tore my ACL. He spent too much energy on what caused the injury in the first place—my behavior and choices in and after the game—instead of my recovery.
The more she opens up about their relationship and the strain that has always lived there, the more the words threaten to explode from me. With each memory she shares, the hatred I have for him grows. She shouldn't forgive him. She should just move on with her life, continue to chase after the things that she wants. He doesn't deserve to see her succeed. Camryn should put as much distance between herself and that man as possible.

I should tell her about how her father still believes the worst in her, and always will. He's incapable of anything different. If he was, he wouldn't be paying to have someone monitor her. Even with all the changes Camryn has made, all the growth I've bragged about to Cal, the money is still coming in. Cal gave me all the money upfront when I asked for it a month ago, but a new transfer started to hit my account last week. I called the bank and they wouldn't tell me where it was coming from. It has to be Coach, he's the only one I know who can pull strings like that. I haven't spent the extra money, I can't. Every time I think about using it I feel sick.

I think I like seeing the number in my account. It's a constant reminder to keep my distance. Something that has become a whole hell of a lot harder recently. The more time I spend with her, the more time I want to spend with her. Now that she knows some of the truth, at least about my mom, I've needed her just as much as she's needed me. That's what friends do, though. At least for this weekend, I can keep being her friend.

🏈🏈🏈

I walk up the two flights of stairs from my room to the one Camryn is staying in. She's right next to Coach's room. He's always in the same one. It must have a view of the stadium or something. But then again he's just a football guy. He has superstitions and rituals that only make sense to him. It's the same reason I know I will fall asleep to "Remember the Titans" tonight. I've done the same thing the night before a game since I was a kid and forced my mom and Nora to rewatch it with me over and over again.

I knock on the door with four taps in quick concession. Camryn opens the door almost immediately, but quickly blocks me from coming in. Instead she slithers her body through the small crack in the door and rests against it as it closes. It's not like I need to go in her room. I would actually prefer not to be in a small space with her while she's wearing that skirt. Her black sheer tights underneath do nothing to stop me from staring at her legs on full display. I think she must catch me staring because her cheeks are flushed. Before I can tease her about it she yells at me to close my eyes.

"I have a surprise for you!" She sings in an unsteady voice. She's nervous, which only makes me feel it secondhand.

I can only imagine what my cheeks look like now, my mind is racing with what she could possibly want to show me. I curse under my breath at the thoughts that immediately surface in my head. All of which involve that skirt torn off her body and thrown across the room.

Regardless of what she might see in mine, I attempt to search her eyes for any clue. Camryn can't hide anything from me. Her expressions are too grand. She always shows exactly what she's feeling. And right now her blue eyes are swimming, moving across my face quickly. I can tell she's over time to try and remain neutral. She swats a hand at me, but I catch it before she can make contact. I instinctively pull her closer as I whisper in her ear, "Someone's feeling feisty, today."

She doesn't shake or sigh like I expect her to, instead she pulls back quickly and pleads again for me to cover my eyes. The fact that my flirtatious words go ignored tells me I need to let her win this one. Whatever she needs to show me is occupying her mind, so I cover my eyes with both hands.

I playfully peek between my fingers. This only makes Camryn move behind me and cover my eyes with her own hands. I picture her standing on her tiptoes to reach as I feel the weight of her body against my backside. She counts down as she unlocks the door and walks me further into the room.