Even The Playing Field | BOOK #1 IN THE PSU SERIES

thirty

I sighed as I felt the familiar tingle in my eyes. I was going to be in a completely different spot in life in these next few months, but Naomi would still be here. Blake would be here. Everyone would be here except me.

I was leaving everything behind.

I was gaining millions, but was it even worth it?

I chuckled at my thoughts. I was seriously questioning the worth of money, but I guess that's just the beauty of Naomi Black. She had taught me so much within the past month and couple weeks.

For one, I learned that assuming just means that you're a judgemental asshole.

For two, I learned that trust isn't given, it's earned.

For three, I learned that I can actually do my own damn homework.

For four, I learned that only my life revolved around me.

For five, I learned that I could care and like someone, and that I wasn't out of their league. She was out of mine.

The lights of beaver stadium flashed in my face as I edged closer to it. I patted my pocket to make sure I still had my LionCard on me so I could enter the facility. Luckily, I did have it—because there was no way I was running home and entering my room when Naomi was there.

Walking up to the side door I swiped my card and put in my finger print to enter. Once entering, I walked towards the locker room. I hit the lights and walked to the captains section to get to my space. I grabbed my gloves and spikes— I needed some good turf.

I exited the locker room and walked towards the field. I hoped nobody was here.

It was Halloween and a Friday, I doubt anybody would be here.

I grabbed the target and the football basket. I walked up the ramp and was immediately met with the moonlight shining overtop of the open ceiling stadium. I stood there and took it all in.

Another thing she taught me, I had to be grateful because some people are less fortunate than I.

I shook my head and walked onto the field. I needed to get her out of my head. I had a huge game in less than 48 hours.

I stood at the ten and positioned the three targets in the corners and in the middle of the endzone.

This was the best type of stress relief.

I shoved my hands in the basket and gripped the firmest one possible. I slapped the ball and licked my middle, pointer, and thumb. I set myself back and released— hitting the bullseye of the target in the left end.

I inhaled and exhaled.

Around 6:41 the sun started to rise. That's when my throws weren't hitting their marks. That's when reality set in.

I set myself back and released towards the center. Except the ball completely missed the target. "You got to be fucking kidding me!" I yelled at the sky and then kicked the ball rack.

I shoved the ball rack.

"This is fucking bullshit." I muttered as I sat on the ground. "Bring back the fucking moon!" I screamed. "Bring it back!" I yelled and slapped the ground. I sniffled, "Bring her back." I muttered and played with the turf rocks.

"Williams?" A voice spoke from behind me. I groaned and turned around. "Coach, I'm not in the mood. I'll clean it up— I just need some time." I pleaded with him not really wanting to run suicides for having a meltdown and treating the equipment badly.

I heard his footsteps walk up close to me. I closed my eyes ready to hear my crazy punishment. Instead, I felt a hand on my shoulder, "C'mon son," He met my eyes and motioned for me to follow him.