Saving The Broken Quarterback ✔️

Chapter One

Ian's POV

"Ian!"

"Get your lazy ass down here!" My mom, if you want to call her that, slurred loudly. I could already smell the booze oozing from her breath all the way from my room.

Ever since my father left her nineteen years ago, the day I was born, she turned into an alcoholic and an abuser. She drank nonstop and even used drugs at times to null her pain and hatred for the world.

"What ma?!" I screamed, slipping my right leg into my sweatpants. As soon as the piece of clothing was fully on my body, my door flung open, slamming against the wall. I rolled my eyes and bent down to put on my shoes.

Glancing up, I could see a fat, beer bellied man staring at me angrily.

"Boy, didn't your mom tell you to go see her?" He asked, seething with anger. I stood up straight and squared my shoulders, showing him I wasn't a coward. His jaw ticked as he watched me take a fighting stance. He continued to glare while he flared his nostrils. A loud scoff escaped his lips.

"Make a move, I dare you," I growled.

"Fucking piece of trash," he mumbled before walking away. I grabbed my bag and left the house, ignoring my mother and her ignorant screams. I jumped inside of my truck and took off down the road, heading to the campus for my morning class.

"Ian!" My best friend, James, hollered. I looked over my shoulder and nodded my head, signaling that I heard him. He never one picked up his pace as he sauntered over to me, letting his eyes roam all the girls passing by.

"What's up playa?" He questioned, holding his fist in the air. I bumped mine to his and smirked. "You know, the usual," I said casually. What I meant by that was, you know, my alcoholic mother is on my back and has her new flavor of the month trying to beat me, but what he got from that was different.

"You're still the man!" He said proudly. "How's Brittany?" He asked with annoyance. I rolled my eyes and shrugged. "How would I know?" I questioned. "Uh, dude. Isn't she your girlfriend?" He asked in disbelief.

"No. She isn't. She's just someone I fucked," I told him with yet another shrug of my shoulders. "You dirty boy. Was she any good?" He asked and I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves.

Brittany was just a friend with benefits. She didn't want anything more and neither did I. Did that mean I would slut shame her? Hell no. Brittany was a nice girl. "Dude, get out my face before I punch you," I warned and he puckered his lips.

"Whatever dude," he mumbled and walked away. I locked my truck and went straight to class, ignoring anyone who called my name. I was tired of people not seeing the real me. Did they not notice the bags under my eyes? The bruises on my body, bruises that weren't from football practice?

No, of course not. They saw the bad boy, quarterback. The guy who could get any girl. After a while, it's what you come to believe you are. That's it's all you are, but it's not. I'm not just that. I get straight A's, lead a football team and work my ass off.

Yet, I'm alone. I had no one who truly cared for me. The real me. I did my best to pay attention throughout the lecture, but it was hard. The voices of my peers only pissed me off instead of helping me escape my life. All I wanted to do was punch something to take the edge off.

As soon as the class was over, I grabbed my bag and headed straight to the locker room. I only had the one morning class today, so I had all day to workout before practice. I changed into my workout gear and made a beeline for the punching bag that was installed for this very reason.

The coach knew about my life.

My problems.

My struggles.

He never once judged me. He helped me out and gave me a key to the gym and told me to use the punching bag and whatever else I needed to use whenever I wanted.

However, the quiet didn't last long. The sound of leather being punched echoed throughout the building. Sweat began to drip down my body and I sighed. After thirty minutes I decided to take a break. I wiped the salty beads from my skin and drank some of my water.

Annoyed by the beeping, I decided to check my phone while bringing my heart rate back to a normal pace. There was two missed calls from James and four unread text messages.

I snickered at the screen and shook my head. The dude acted like he was my girlfriend. The guy needed to get his own life. I was tired of him trying to live mine. He wouldn't last five minutes being the real me.

All it was, was him asking where I was and what my deal was along with him calling me an asshole. So the usual when I'm in a mood like this.

The door flew open, revealing an annoyed James. "Dude, what the fuck?" He asked incredulously. "What? I've been hitting the bag," I told him with a sour face. He walked over to me with a frown on his face. "Man, I been running all over looking for you," he said and I raised an eyebrow.

"Why?" I asked in confusion. "There's this new chick! She's fucking sexy as sin. I think she's trying out for the dance team," he said excitedly. I looked at him in astonishment. "You seriously ran around for an hour to find me to tell me that?" I asked him with a frown.

"Well yeah. She can be your next conquest!" He yelled and I growled in response. "Dude, really?!" I yelled back. "Quit fucking degrading females like that!" I snapped then stormed off, needing to put some distance between me and that idiot.

I pushed the door open, hitting something hard in the process. A groan came from the other side and I cursed. "Shit." I ran around the door quickly and spotted a girl lying down holding her forehead.

"Fuck. I'm so sorry," I told her while extending her my hand. She reached out and I pulled her up fairly quickly, causing her to collide with my body. My hands wrapped around her waist and she stared at me with no emotions. Her eyes were cold and distant.

"It's okay," she said softly before pushing herself away from my body. The distance caused me to feel empty and alone, yet once again. I frowned at the feeling and watched as she walked away in the direction of the parking lot.

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