Ruin(50)

Saturday we swam some more and Sunday I helped her put together her schedule for Spring Semester. She was still trying to pick a major. She said she wanted to pick one and have it over with — her idea was that her major should be purposeful, she wanted a purpose in her life. I couldn’t blame her for that, so I just stayed silent and helped her pick the Gen Eds she would need anyways.
By the time Monday rolled around, I knew the clock was not going in my favor. I had started my new meds and hadn’t dealt with that kind of nausea since starting my treatment. Both David and James were worried, especially since I had one more football game before I was officially off the team.
She’d never seen me play.
I’d always played for the team, for the fans, for my dad, for Tye, even for myself. I’d never in my life played for a girl. It was special, and I wanted to do a good job, which meant I had to haul ass to practice when all I really wanted to do was puke and sleep. Food had completely lost its taste. In fact, it had been slowly getting worse ever since last month. Kiersten obviously didn’t know, but it was like every time she ate, I tried to imagine what it tasted like. Tried to remember how turkey tasted, how sugar tasted.
Concentrating on those things just made me feel weak. I mean, how lame was it that a six foot four, two hundred twenty pound guy was upset because he couldn’t taste turkey anymore?
I wiped the sweat from my forehead and did another dead lift. Tony was spotting me as usual, when Coach came up behind us and took his spot.
“You up to it?” he asked as I did another lift.
“Yup.” I clenched my teeth as I threw the weight down. “I’ve got this.”
“M’kay.” Coach looked away and wiped at his eyes. “And if there’s anything I can do—”
“I’m not dead yet, Coach.” I snapped.
“I know.” His eyes watered.
Aw, shit. I put my hands on my hips and sighed, looking away from the man who’d given me my scholarship, who’d watched me play at BHS when I was a senior. We’d been to Hell and back, and I’m sure it felt to him like he was losing family. I knew that only because it felt the same way to me.
My team was my family.
They were my brothers.
I worried about them, I fought with them, I ate with them. We were a team and I hated to think about them going on without me. I despised the fact that I wouldn’t be there to offer my support when they graduated, or went to their first jobs, or possibly got the bowl game we’d been wanting since Oregon stole it from us last year.
“I’m a fighter,” I finally said, my gaze never wavering as I stared Coach down. “And I’m going to win.”
“Hell yes, you are.” Coach stalked toward me and got right in my face. “You sure as hell will beat this thing, and you’ll do me proud, you hear?”
“Loud and clear, sir.” I choked on the tears burning at the back of my throat.
“Okay.” He patted my back. “Good talk. Now hit the showers.”
He wiped his face as he made his way back to his office and slammed the door.
“Is it just me or is Coach a lot more emotional lately?” Tony said from behind me. I wondered how much he’d heard.
“Ah, he’s just nervous about the game.” I slapped Tony on the back. “You heard Coach. Hit the showers!” I yelled at my team, quite possibly for the last time. The game was tomorrow, Tuesday. And it would be my last for a while.



Chapter Thirty-Eight

I want him more than anything… could a person major in Weston Michels? Because I’d for sure pick that major over kinesiology any day!

Kiersten
“Just put on the damn shirt.” Gabe thrust it into my face again and sighed. “We’re going to be late.”
I felt my face flush with embarrassment as I stomped over to my room and threw on the shirt. Team Wes had been printed in red across the front surrounded by giant hearts. Why had Gabe done that? I still didn’t get why I had to wear it. But Gabe had insisted, saying it was Homecoming tradition and that it would make Wes proud to see me wearing something with his name on it. He said it would give him courage. I was still stuck on the idea that a guy like Wes would need courage to do anything but I left it alone. Besides, it seemed Gabe was already irritated with me though I didn’t know why.
“Better?” I walked out of the room and did a quick turn. I wore a pair of cute Nike shoes, ripped jeans, and the t-shirt. My hair was in a ponytail and I had paint on my face with Wes’s number on it — thirty-two in Husky purple and gold.
“Awesome.” Gabe pumped his fist. “See? Was that so hard?”
“Listening to you?” I jutted out my hip. “Always hard.”
“Love you too.” Gabe rolled his eyes. “Now grab your shit we gotta go.” He slapped my butt and called for his cousin. “Get your ass out here, Lisa, or so help me I’ll—”
“Coming!” She bounded out of her room. Since Gabe was taking a timeout from all the crazy girls, he’d agreed to take Lisa to the game, only if she behaved and didn’t go home with some psycho dude. She must have had a more checkered past than I realized, because he always seemed super concerned about her and guys.
I checked my phone. Wes would be warming up still. I sent him a text anyway.
Go Thirty-Two!
“Let’s go!” I ran to the door, giddy with excitement. I’d never been to a college game before, and honestly I’d known Wes was popular — I mean, look at him. But the fact that he was the star quarterback at a school like University of Washington? Yeah, that was some crazy stuff. Gabe said ESPN was covering the game because they were playing the Cougars. Huge rivalry. Apparently they still hadn’t let go of that whole Rose Bowl fiasco all those years ago — at least according to Gabe.