Blind Ambition | ✓

02 | King of the Dancing Monkeys

I hung my head over the toilet, feeling my stomach clench as I heaved again, making a sound like a dying animal. Liquor burned against my tongue as all the beer and tequila from the day before went pouring into the toilet. A warm, tangy scent filled the air, and it only made my stomach churn more. Sweat dripped down the back of my neck as I rolled my head back and shakily rose to my feet.

Nothing out of the ordinary on an August summer morning.

The tile of the bathroom floor was cool against my bare feet as I walked over to the sink and splashed my face with water. We hadn't left the bar until almost 2 am, and the lack of sleep was more than apparent as I studied my face in the mirror. My dark hair stuck up in every direction like I'd stuck my finger in an electrical socket, and my nose was still red from being out in the sun all day. Lines from where I'd passed out on my pillow were etched into my cheek.

I rubbed the tiredness out of my eyes and ran my fingers along my jawline, willing any semblance of facial hair to grow so the age on my fake ID would be more believable. I raked my hair back and spit in the sink before retreating back into my bedroom.

The alarm clock on my bedside table blinked 6:02 AM, in bright, angry red. I fumbled around underneath my bed for my running shoes, and a rush of blood tore through me when I stood up too fast. I plucked out the first shirt that didn't smell like sweat in a pile of clothes splayed across my floor and didn't bother changing the Nike shorts I had slept in.

I grabbed my headphones off the bedside table and fumbled down the stairs, and crisp air smacked me in the face when I threw myself against our heavy, oakwood front door. Summer heat hadn't set in yet, and the sun was just beginning to rise, sending golden rays of light dancing across the rain-soaked, perfectly manicured grass of my front lawn. In the haze my life had been lately, the quiet of the early morning was the only time or place I felt the smallest sense of clarity.

I took a deep breath and started running down the empty street as adrenaline and the heavy bass of whatever metal playlist I had started overtook the dizzying nausea. I ran the same route every morning, down to the right of my house, out of our gated neighborhood, and to the Oaks Country Club a mile further down the road.

I looped my way back to my house, running along the side of the street by the other houses in my neighborhood. They all had the same tall white columns, big oak doors and perfectly manicured front lawns, so much so that sometimes I ran past my own house since I could barely distinguish them. I made sure to slow my pace when I passed Jordyn Wagner's house. If I got lucky and she was awake, I could catch her changing in her bedroom window, giving me the perfect view of her naked, golden skin in the morning sun.

It was still too early, and the lights in her room were off.

I slowed to a stop when I reached my own front porch, leaning on one of the columns as I tried to catch my breath. Another wave of nausea washed over me, and I stumbled down the front steps and dropped onto the grass. My stomach shuddered and another disgusting gagging noise came from my throat, but nothing came out. I rolled onto my back and closed my eyes, letting the soothing noise of the wind dancing through the trees slow my frantic heartbeat.

Two-A-Days for football started in three hours. As team captain, it was my responsibility to prepare and lead the team to absolute dominance. By doing that, I held together the very fabric of space time continuum that existed in our tiny, affluent upstate town bubble. Because without football, there was nothing, just a black hole that floated dangerously close to my world. I was already starting to feel the pull.

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New Livingston Day School had spent nearly two million dollars on renovations for the athletic complex in the past two years. While our athletic director Sutter Kane, with his flashy suits and his brand new Rolex and his leased Tesla, claimed that the massive brick building with its floor-to-ceiling windows and state of the art weight training center was to benefit all New Livingston Day School sports, everybody knew it was only to benefit the football team. Sure our school had a principal, but Kane ran the damn show, and Principal Maddox was just a puppet.