Breaking the Playbook [COMPLETED]

Chapter 19

BROOKS' POV

The weight of the world feels heavier than usual as I walk into the locker room. The clamor of my teammates, their conversations mixing with the sounds of equipment being moved around, creates a backdrop of chaos that mirrors the turmoil inside me. I can feel the stares, and whispers that have started following me around ever since the media caught wind of my relationship with Lolo.

It's a different kind of pressure—not just the weight of the game but the scrutiny that seems to come with every move I make. My performance on the field is being dissected, my every play analyzed and criticized, and now it's all tangled up with the personal stuff the media has latched onto. I try to block it out and focus on the game, but the distractions are relentless.

"Hey, Brooks," Alex, one of the other linebackers, says as he passes me. There's a hint of something in his voice—maybe curiosity, maybe disdain. I can't tell, and I don't care to ask.

"Hey," I reply curtly, my eyes scanning the room for my gear. I can feel their eyes on me, even when they're not directly looking. The coaches, the players, everyone knows about Lolo and me now, and it's fucking with my head.

I finally locate my helmet and shoulder pads, feeling the familiar weight as I strap them on. The physicality of the equipment helps ground me, but it doesn't do much for the mental strain. I try to shake off the tension, focusing on the drills and plays, but the pressure is inescapable.

As I head out to the practice field, the crisp air does little to clear the fog in my mind. I can hear the distant hum of the crowd and the buzz of excitement that always surrounds game day, but today it's just noise. My focus is scattered, and my mind constantly flickering back to the media frenzy and the way it's impacting Lolo.

I remember the last time we were together, how her eyes looked—tired, frustrated. The pressure on her was as intense as it was on me, and it's taking a toll on both of us. I promised her we'd get through it, that we'd find a way to balance everything. But right now, that promise feels like a weight around my neck.

"Alright, let's get it together, people!" Coach Harris' voice cuts through the noise, and I snap back to attention. The coach is a no-nonsense guy, always pushing us to be our best, and today is no different.

The practice starts, and I throw myself into it, trying to lose myself in the rhythm of the drills. Every tackle, every sprint, is an attempt to escape the nagging thoughts of the media, the pressure of being in the spotlight. My teammates are focused, and I'm trying to match their intensity, but I can feel the strain in every movement.

During a break, I sit on the bench, trying to catch my breath. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I know it's probably another article or comment about my relationship. I ignore it, not wanting to add to the stress. Instead, I focus on the game, reminding myself why I'm here in the first place.

But the media's impact isn't just on me; it's affecting how others see me. There's a noticeable shift in locker room dynamics. Some of the guys are more distant, treating me with a coldness that wasn't there before. It's like I've become a pariah, and it's hard not to let it affect my performance.

When practice ends, I head back to the locker room, feeling the exhaustion settle into my bones. The media circus has a way of making everything seem more intense and invasive. I just want to escape, get away from the constant pressure, and find some semblance of normalcy.

I pull out my phone to check for any messages from Lolo. There's one waiting for me, and my heart skips a beat. I open it, hoping for a kind word, a message of support, but instead, it's a news article about us, another round of speculation and judgment. The weight of it hits me like a ton of bricks.

I know she's dealing with her own battles and her own share of stress. I wish I could be there for her, to offer some comfort, but right now, it feels like we're both stuck in a storm with no way out. The tension between us is palpable, and every message and every interaction feels strained.

I head to my car, trying to clear my head. The drive home is quiet, and I'm left alone with my thoughts. The city lights blur past, and I think about Lolo, about the way things used to be. We were happy and carefree, and now everything feels like it's falling apart.

When I finally get home, I collapse onto the couch, feeling the weight of the day settle heavily on me. I close my eyes, trying to find a moment of peace, but the noise of the media, the pressure from the team—it all rushes back in. I need to find a way to fix this and make things right.

The doorbell rings, and I drag myself up, hoping it's Lolo, hoping for some sort of connection, some sign that we're still in this together. I open the door, and there she is, looking as exhausted as I feel. Her eyes meet mine, and I can see the same mixture of frustration and longing that's been tearing me apart.

"Hey," she says softly, her voice carrying a note of weariness that makes my heart ache.

"Hey," I reply, stepping aside to let her in. The space between us feels charged, and I can sense the weight of everything that's been left unsaid.

She walks in, her presence a balm to the chaos I've been feeling. We sit together, and for a moment, there's a silence that's almost comforting. We don't need to say anything; just being in the same space feels like a small victory.

But the pressure is still there, lurking beneath the surface. "I'm sorry," I say, my voice cracking with the weight of my emotions. "I wish things were different."

She looks at me, her eyes full of understanding. "I know. I wish we could just... escape all of this."

"Me too," I reply, my voice filled with a mix of frustration and hope. "But I don't want to give up on us. I want to find a way to make it work."

We sit together, holding each other, finding comfort in the simple act of being close. The world outside may be chaotic, but in this moment, we're just two people trying to navigate the storm together.

As the night stretches on, we talk about the media, the team, and the pressure—it's all still there, but for now, we're facing it together.