Mia Hill. College bound with an athletic scholarship. A go-getter with big dreams and a fully thought out plan to make sure they come true.
But with her father's release from prison looming and the inevitable stresses of adulting, everything she wa...
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"I can't do any more," Brandon heaves, so desperate for air that I can practically hear his lungs screaming in pain.
They're as loud and desperate as mine. But the difference is that I told mine to shut up fifteen sprints ago and kept going. He opted for longer breaks. I kept mine short.
It paid off, too. I'm pretty sure I beat my personal best on the forty yard dash today. It's hard to know for sure, I'll have to wait and see if Hart says anything. But my strides felt different, quicker, more efficient. My body feels all tingly at the thought and everything looks brighter. I feel like a fucking champion.
Brandon, on the other hand, is currently sitting in the grass checking his pulse, sweating buckets under a painfully hot summer sun. I'm feeling the heat, too, but I'm used to being outside in all conditions, thanks to working for my dad. Brandon works all day inside. So, it's safe to say that today's conditioning drills are having different effects on each of us.
"Get up," I plead with him, pulling at my shirt as it sticks to my skin. Being used to the heat doesn't make the effects of it any better, and I need a fucking shower. "If Hart sees you like this when he gets over here, he's gonna keep us both out here. And you know he'll make you do twenty more of these. At least."
"Over the forty-two I already did?" Brand falls onto his back with an obnoxious sigh. "My legs are burning, bro. Call your uncle off. He's not our coach anymore."
I know he didn't mean anything by it, but the words hit me right in the chest. Delivering a fresh reminder that I'm leaving in a few days. Heading across the country, and joining a whole new ball game. A new league of competition, leveling up the intensity. And all without the coach I've worked with since I was a toddler to guide me anymore.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't starting to feel a little apprehensive about the changes on the way. I'll be a long way from home. Without my family, my mom's cooking, the endless comforts I've been accustomed to. That homesick feeling that Mia had going on last week is already starting to resonate with me, and I didn't even leave yet.
How does she do this every summer?
A whistle blows in the distance.
"On the line, you two!" Hart calls out as he makes his way toward us.
Brandon's on his feet like lightning, and I about die laughing at the flurried look on his face, the pure and utter speed of his movement. If he'd been that fast doing his forty, he might have given Bo Jackson a run for his money.
We take a stand on the fading lines of the makeshift football field at the community center, our training spot for the day since it was more convenient for Hart to stick around his place of work. With camp going on and all that.
"Please let us be done. Please let us be done," Brandon chants beside me, finally catching his breath. Pussy.
I shoot him a look. "Married life has changed you, man."
