Hail Mary

Liam

It's really fucking hard to avoid someone you're forced to see for hours every day. The first few days are the worst, when I keep wanting to call him or text him to invite him over. For the last couple of semesters, my dorm hasn't been lonely thanks to him. Now every hour I'm alone is something I physically feel as the clock slowly ticks by. I also never noticed how much my schedule eased up. With Niall, my life wasn't just football. I started focusing on school and other things that are important to me, like family and friends. I'm even getting A's in classes I would've gotten C's or D's in before. But without him, I go right back to what I know. Pushing myself above and beyond at practice. Hitting the gym for hours on end. Working with my dad on the weekends. Anything to keep from thinking about Niall. And the whole time, there's a part of me that wants to pick up the phone; a part of me that thinks I'm being petty. I totally get the fact that Niall's not really over what happened to him in high school. I probably wouldn't be over it, either. Late Thursday night, I found myself close to caving. I hit the gym instead, and was in the middle of another upper body circuit when my phone buzzed. Expecting just another text, I ignored it until I saw it was a missed call. When the voicemail icon popped up, I couldn't help myself. Standing in the middle of the gym, I listened to a slurred message from Niall: Don't delete this, okay? I know I fucked up. I just... I can't... I don't know how to do this. I'm sorry. I'm damaged goods, man. You deserve somebody better than me. Just don't hate me, all right? I don't wanna lose you as a friend, too. When I lowered the phone from my ear, I realized he'd already given up. On us. On me. And that hurt even more than what he said. It's like he doesn't trust me at all. He doesn't trust me to keep him safe, and I get the feeling he thinks whatever I feel for him is just me being bored or something. Maybe I haven't sorted out my feelings yet, but I know I'm not bored or confused or anything like that, so fuck him for putting that shit on me. I know I can't think about it right now, so I do what my dad taught me to do when my mom died: I ignore the pain and find ways to keep myself busy and exhausted so it doesn't have a chance to catch up to me. For those few days, I succeed, mostly thanks to the fact that we're gearing up for a game that's going to decide where we end up playing in the post-season. If we win, we'll be the #1 seed in the SEC, lock down the best record in the school's history, and have a shot at being chosen as one of the top four teams to compete for the national championship. We're still going to end up at a bowl game if we don't, but I want the title. Even if it's not officially recognized by the NCAA, it gives me another good mark for the NFL recruiters to look at. And right now, it gives me a reason to focus and not worry about my personal life. When game day rolls around, I'm focused. I have to be, because if I let myself think about Niall as anything more than a teammate, I'm going to blow it. We're playing Alabama, and from the very first drive, their defense makes my life a living hell. They put the pressure on hard, and there's a point where one of their guys vaults over my offensive line to try and get to me. I have to dump the ball quick, and I throw an easy interception that gets run back for a touchdown. It's all downhill from there. I don't know how it unravels so fast, but it feels like pieces of the ground are crumbling out from under my feet, one by one. A fumble here. A blocked field goal attempt there. Countless third downs that don't convert. By the third quarter, we've only put up 7 points, and we had to scrape and claw for that touchdown. Meanwhile, Alabama has 21 over us. But I don't completely lose my cool until I see Niall start getting some of the heat I've been seeing all game. I throw him a deep pass like the one that won us the game against Raleigh Tech, and I see him give it his all, trying to shake the two guys who are right on his ass. Reynolds tries to block for him, but he's outpaced, and by the time Niall gets the ball in his hands, he's completely fucked. I can hear the hit all the way down the field as helmets and pads connect. It jars through by bones, slicing an ache through my heart that has me practically gasping for air. I have to tear my helmet off just to feel like I can breathe, and I fight for every single breath until I see Niall peel himself off the field and come back to the line of scrimmage uninjured. "You all right?" I ask as the clock continues to run. "Yeah. Got the wind knocked out of me." He takes his place and I get ready for the snap, but my head isn't on the play. Instead, I'm worrying about what would happen if Niall ends up in the same situation again. Injured, and this time because of me. Because I threw him a pass he shouldn't have gone for. I second-guess myself and hold onto the ball too long. Long enough for a huge linebacker to break through my offensive line and come barreling toward me. I see him out of the corner of my eye, but by that point it's too late. I can't dodge him; can't hope to run with the ball now. And I'm not ready to take the sack. When he hits me, he hits hard. I feel something tear, and then the ground rushes up to meet my head. The last thing I see is the blurry sight of cleats before everything fades to black.