Breaking the Playbook [COMPLETED]

Chapter 23

BROOKS' POV

The field is alive with energy, the roar of the crowd blending into a distant, muffled hum. It's a typical game day, but today, everything feels different. I line up with my teammates, trying to focus on the play, but my mind is a storm of thoughts and distractions. The constant media barrage has been eating away at me, and I can feel its impact seeping into every aspect of my life.

The ball is snapped, and I move into action. The game is a blur of movements and sounds, but it feels like I'm running in slow motion. My movements are mechanical, the precision I usually rely on slips through my fingers like sand. My frustration builds with every missed pass and every slip in concentration.

I hear the coach's voice through the chaos, barking orders and corrections, but it feels distant, like I'm underwater. My focus is fractured, and I can't shake the images of Lolo's distressed face from my mind. The media's relentless scrutiny of our relationship has put us both under immense pressure, and it's taking a toll on me.

The crowd's cheers and groans become a backdrop to my internal struggle. Every mistake I make on the field feels like a failure, not just to myself but also to Lolo and our relationship. I can't stop thinking about how this might be affecting her—how she must be feeling with all the attention and speculation.

During a break in play, I jog over to the sidelines, trying to catch my breath and gather my thoughts. The coach pulls me aside, his face set in a stern expression. "Brooks, what's going on out there? You're off your game. Get it together, or you'll be sitting on the bench."

I nod, but inside, I'm a mess. I'm letting my personal issues spill over into my professional life, and it's fucking everything up. I take a deep breath, trying to clear my mind. "I'm fine," I lie, forcing a smile that doesn't reach my eyes.

As the game continues, I try to push through the fog in my mind. Every play is a struggle, and I can feel the eyes of the coaches and my teammates on me, scrutinizing every move. I'm letting them down, and it's eating me up inside.

The final whistle blows, and the game ends. We've won, but it feels hollow. I walk off the field, my shoulders slumping and my energy drained. The press is waiting outside the locker room, their cameras flashing as I make my way to the entrance. I push through the crowd, trying to ignore the questions and the relentless clicking of cameras.

Once inside, I find a quiet corner and sit down, my head in my hands. The weight of the day's events presses heavily on me. The stress of the media, the pressure to perform, and the constant worry about how it's affecting Lolo are almost too much to bear.

My phone buzzes, and I see a message from Lolo. Her words are a lifeline in the chaos.

Lolo: Hey, how's it going? I saw the game. You okay?

I take a deep breath and type back, my fingers moving slowly over the screen.

Brooks: Not great. Struggling to focus out there. It's all just too much right now.

I hit send and lean back against the wall, closing my eyes. The media pressure is relentless, and it's taking a toll on my performance and my relationship. I need to find a way to deal with this and get back to where I was before everything started unraveling.

I think about Lolo's face, the concern and frustration etched in her features. I hate that I'm dragging her into this mess, that our relationship is being scrutinized by the entire fucking world. I need to find a way to balance my personal and professional lives to shield us both from the constant barrage of media attention.