Invictus
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Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 5568
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Invictus
What's he supposed to say? "Yeah, I'll definitely roll to a school that I've never talked to before."redsox907 wrote: ↑18 Nov 2025, 19:15boy already fumbling the play before he hits the fieldCaptain Canada wrote: ↑17 Nov 2025, 20:49It wasn’t angry, wasn’t dramatic—but the lightness had dimmed.
Can anyone decipher this one?
You gotta talk to someone, brother. This projecting is insane.
The judgement is unrelenting.
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redsox907
- Posts: 2645
- Joined: 01 Jun 2025, 12:40
Invictus
tell her what she wants to hear - "That would be amazing being so close to you."Captain Canada wrote: ↑19 Nov 2025, 15:13What's he supposed to say? "Yeah, I'll definitely roll to a school that I've never talked to before."
Not committing to Michigan, just saying the idea of being close to her
Always shutting her down gonna get him shot down ya feel me
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Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 5568
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Invictus
I think shutting her down is a little bit of an overstatement. This was genuinely the first time he contemplated his own university choice. We ain't gaslighting over here. Open and honest communication over there.redsox907 wrote: ↑19 Nov 2025, 15:41tell her what she wants to hear - "That would be amazing being so close to you."Captain Canada wrote: ↑19 Nov 2025, 15:13What's he supposed to say? "Yeah, I'll definitely roll to a school that I've never talked to before."
Not committing to Michigan, just saying the idea of being close to her
Always shutting her down gonna get him shot down ya feel me
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Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 5568
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
-
Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 5568
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
-
Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 5568
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Invictus
Season II | Chapter IV: Patiently Waiting
Late spring in Pittsburgh carried its own kind of heaviness—not oppressive heat, but that damp, warming thickness that clung to everything after months of gray. Upper St. Clair’s practice fields sat under a sky that finally remembered how to be blue, though puffy clouds still wandered lazily overhead, reminders of the region’s stubborn unpredictability.
The grass, soaked from a week of on-and-off rain, gleamed bright green, soft under cleats but slick enough to demand caution on sharp cuts. A crisp breeze drifted in from the west every so often, carrying the smell of wet earth and sun-warmed rubber from the track circling the field.
It was the time of year when the air felt alive—cool shade, warm sun, and the faint buzz of cicadas beginning their early chatter.
And for Zane, it was the first spring where everything felt like it was slowing down for him.
He exploded off the line during 7-on-7s, planting and breaking with effortless precision. Cornerbacks who used to give him fits now lunged half a step behind. His footwork was tighter, his stride longer, and the confidence that had once flickered uncertainly now simmered under his skin.
He wasn’t perfect—but he was close enough that his teammates were starting to notice.
Everyone but Malik Richards.
Malik—new QB1, arms like he’d been carved for throwing, and a calmness that bordered on aloof—kept missing him. Not by much. A yard too deep. A half-second too early. A back-shoulder that should’ve been front.
Once? Fine.
Twice? Maybe chemistry.
But this? This felt personal, even if Zane couldn’t prove it.
After the fifth misfire in a single session, Zane jogged back toward Malik, trying to keep his tone steady - leaderlike.
“Hey,” he said, pointing back toward the route they’d just run. “On that dig, you put it behind me. I’m breaking toward the numbers - just throw it out in front and I’ll go get it.”
Malik wiped sweat from his brow but didn’t look at him. “I threw it where it needed to be. Can't really fault me if you're cutting your routes off early.”
Zane blinked. “Okay, but-”
“That’s where the read took me,” Malik cut in. “If you’re where you’re supposed to be, it’s a completion.”
Zane’s jaw tightened. “I was where I was supposed to be.”
Malik finally met his eyes - dark, unreadable, and cool as late-winter ice. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
It wasn’t loud. Wasn’t disrespectful. But it carried something sharper underneath - something defensive.
Zane took a slow breath, trying not to slip back into old habits of shutting down. “Look, man, I’m just trying to make sure we’re on the same page. We’re gonna have to work together if we wanna-”
“I’m working,” Malik said, turning away. “I’m good.”
And just like that, he jogged back to the huddle.
Zane stood alone in the middle of the field, the breeze brushing at his jersey, frustration curling in his chest. Leadership wasn’t supposed to feel like walking into a door that wouldn’t open. Coach Shazier had told him to be the standard—but what good was a standard if the guy throwing the ball refused to meet him halfway?
Cam jogged over, helmet under his arm. “Yo, everything cool?”
Zane watched Malik take the next snap, crisp and confident as ever—yet somehow out of sync with him every single throw.
“Yeah,” Zane muttered, though he didn’t believe it. “All good.”
But as he lined up for the next rep, he felt it again - that faint, stubborn resistance between him and his new quarterback.
A tension he couldn’t name.
And a quiet certainty settling into his gut.
The boutique was bright in that overwhelming way—mirrors everywhere, soft pop music bouncing off the walls, mannequins posed in glittering gowns that screamed prom fantasy. Shayla swiped through dresses on a rack, humming to herself, while Ruby held a sequined emerald number against her body and admired her own reflection.
Bianca stood near the corner fitting platform, fingers idly brushing a satin hem, but her mind was miles elsewhere - more specifically, somewhere on a damp practice field in Pittsburgh and a boy who still didn’t know how to talk about the future.
“You’re zoning out again,” Shayla said gently, nudging Bianca’s shoulder. “C’mon, help me decide. This one says ‘future lawyer,’ right? Or more like ‘please notice me?’”
Bianca forced a small smile. “You’d look good in either. Seriously.”
Shayla hesitated, reading her. She always did. Bianca’s tone was soft, but it had that glazed distance; the one she used when she was trying not to feel things too deeply.
Ruby spun around, holding up the emerald dress. “Okay, but what about this one? Too much?” She twirled, the sequins throwing bits of green light across the room. “I swear, Keon will pass out if I walk in wearing this.”
Bianca nodded automatically. “It’s pretty.”
“Pretty?” Ruby scoffed. “Girl, this dress is a weapon.”
Shayla laughed, but Bianca’s smile didn’t lift. Her thoughts spun too fast: Zane’s pause, his downcast eyes, the way he said I don’t wanna jump ahead like the idea scared him more than it excited him. It was ridiculous to expect him to commit to anything right now. She knew that. Knew it was unfair.
But it still stung.
Shayla finally placed the dress she was holding back on the rack and stepped closer. “Bianca… seriously, you good? You’ve been looking like someone unplugged you.”
“I’m fine,” Bianca said quickly.
Ruby crossed her arms. “She’s not fine. She’s doing that thing again.”
Bianca stiffened. “What thing?”
“That thing where you act like the world ends and begins with Zane Jones,” Ruby said. “You won’t even look at other guys. There were, like, two cute dudes checking you out at the mall last week and you literally didn’t blink.”
Bianca blinked now, slow. “Because I’m dating someone, Ruby.”
“Yeah, but you’re acting like you’re married.” Ruby tossed the dress dramatically over her arm. “I’m just saying - don’t get so wrapped up in that boy that you forget there’s options.”
Shayla winced. “Ruby…”
Bianca’s eyes sharpened, hurt flaring but her face remained neutral as if carved from marble. “You think I haven’t thought about my options? You think this is easy?”
Ruby shrugged, unapologetic. “I think you’re putting all your eggs in one basket and the basket’s, like… wobbling. That’s all.”
Bianca felt the heat build in her chest. “Of course it’s wobbling! He’s seventeen! I’m eighteen! We're about to live two states apart for most of the year! But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna just - just shop for someone else like it’s a sale at H&M!”
Ruby rolled her eyes. “I’m not saying shop. I’m saying don’t act like Michigan is some fairy tale that ends with him riding up to campus next year to be with you.”
Bianca’s jaw tightened at that. Because that was exactly the thing eating at her. The thing she hated that she cared about so much.
Shayla raised both hands. “Okay, okay - everyone take a breath.”
Ruby huffed but didn’t back down. “I love you, Bianca, but you’re letting this guy dictate your mood every five minutes.”
“And I love you, Ruby,” Bianca snapped, “but you’re being judgmental about something you don’t even understand.”
Ruby opened her mouth, but Shayla stepped between them, palms out like a referee begging for a timeout.
“Enough,” Shayla said firmly. “We’re supposed to be looking for prom dresses, not reenacting Love & Hip Hop: Pittsburgh Edition. Can we just, I don't know, dial it down? Please?”
Bianca looked away, blinking hard, her throat tightening. Ruby clicked her tongue and turned back to the mirror, clearly annoyed but quiet for now.
Shayla touched Bianca’s arm again - softer this time. “Bee… if you wanna talk about it, I’m here. But if you don’t, I’m still here.”
Bianca nodded, swallowing the lump in her chest. “I know. Sorry. I’m just… thinking too much.”
Shayla gave her a warm, lopsided smile. “That’s your Olympic sport.”
Bianca managed a breathy laugh.
But as Shayla dragged her toward another rack of dresses and Ruby resumed assessing her own reflection with dramatic sighs, Bianca’s thoughts drifted - unwilling, persistent - back to Zane.
Back to that moment in the parking lot where hope and uncertainty tangled inside her.
Back to the quiet fear she couldn’t name.
Late spring in Pittsburgh carried its own kind of heaviness—not oppressive heat, but that damp, warming thickness that clung to everything after months of gray. Upper St. Clair’s practice fields sat under a sky that finally remembered how to be blue, though puffy clouds still wandered lazily overhead, reminders of the region’s stubborn unpredictability.
The grass, soaked from a week of on-and-off rain, gleamed bright green, soft under cleats but slick enough to demand caution on sharp cuts. A crisp breeze drifted in from the west every so often, carrying the smell of wet earth and sun-warmed rubber from the track circling the field.
It was the time of year when the air felt alive—cool shade, warm sun, and the faint buzz of cicadas beginning their early chatter.
And for Zane, it was the first spring where everything felt like it was slowing down for him.
He exploded off the line during 7-on-7s, planting and breaking with effortless precision. Cornerbacks who used to give him fits now lunged half a step behind. His footwork was tighter, his stride longer, and the confidence that had once flickered uncertainly now simmered under his skin.
He wasn’t perfect—but he was close enough that his teammates were starting to notice.
Everyone but Malik Richards.
Malik—new QB1, arms like he’d been carved for throwing, and a calmness that bordered on aloof—kept missing him. Not by much. A yard too deep. A half-second too early. A back-shoulder that should’ve been front.
Once? Fine.
Twice? Maybe chemistry.
But this? This felt personal, even if Zane couldn’t prove it.
After the fifth misfire in a single session, Zane jogged back toward Malik, trying to keep his tone steady - leaderlike.
“Hey,” he said, pointing back toward the route they’d just run. “On that dig, you put it behind me. I’m breaking toward the numbers - just throw it out in front and I’ll go get it.”
Malik wiped sweat from his brow but didn’t look at him. “I threw it where it needed to be. Can't really fault me if you're cutting your routes off early.”
Zane blinked. “Okay, but-”
“That’s where the read took me,” Malik cut in. “If you’re where you’re supposed to be, it’s a completion.”
Zane’s jaw tightened. “I was where I was supposed to be.”
Malik finally met his eyes - dark, unreadable, and cool as late-winter ice. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
It wasn’t loud. Wasn’t disrespectful. But it carried something sharper underneath - something defensive.
Zane took a slow breath, trying not to slip back into old habits of shutting down. “Look, man, I’m just trying to make sure we’re on the same page. We’re gonna have to work together if we wanna-”
“I’m working,” Malik said, turning away. “I’m good.”
And just like that, he jogged back to the huddle.
Zane stood alone in the middle of the field, the breeze brushing at his jersey, frustration curling in his chest. Leadership wasn’t supposed to feel like walking into a door that wouldn’t open. Coach Shazier had told him to be the standard—but what good was a standard if the guy throwing the ball refused to meet him halfway?
Cam jogged over, helmet under his arm. “Yo, everything cool?”
Zane watched Malik take the next snap, crisp and confident as ever—yet somehow out of sync with him every single throw.
“Yeah,” Zane muttered, though he didn’t believe it. “All good.”
But as he lined up for the next rep, he felt it again - that faint, stubborn resistance between him and his new quarterback.
A tension he couldn’t name.
And a quiet certainty settling into his gut.
***
The boutique was bright in that overwhelming way—mirrors everywhere, soft pop music bouncing off the walls, mannequins posed in glittering gowns that screamed prom fantasy. Shayla swiped through dresses on a rack, humming to herself, while Ruby held a sequined emerald number against her body and admired her own reflection.
Bianca stood near the corner fitting platform, fingers idly brushing a satin hem, but her mind was miles elsewhere - more specifically, somewhere on a damp practice field in Pittsburgh and a boy who still didn’t know how to talk about the future.
“You’re zoning out again,” Shayla said gently, nudging Bianca’s shoulder. “C’mon, help me decide. This one says ‘future lawyer,’ right? Or more like ‘please notice me?’”
Bianca forced a small smile. “You’d look good in either. Seriously.”
Shayla hesitated, reading her. She always did. Bianca’s tone was soft, but it had that glazed distance; the one she used when she was trying not to feel things too deeply.
Ruby spun around, holding up the emerald dress. “Okay, but what about this one? Too much?” She twirled, the sequins throwing bits of green light across the room. “I swear, Keon will pass out if I walk in wearing this.”
Bianca nodded automatically. “It’s pretty.”
“Pretty?” Ruby scoffed. “Girl, this dress is a weapon.”
Shayla laughed, but Bianca’s smile didn’t lift. Her thoughts spun too fast: Zane’s pause, his downcast eyes, the way he said I don’t wanna jump ahead like the idea scared him more than it excited him. It was ridiculous to expect him to commit to anything right now. She knew that. Knew it was unfair.
But it still stung.
Shayla finally placed the dress she was holding back on the rack and stepped closer. “Bianca… seriously, you good? You’ve been looking like someone unplugged you.”
“I’m fine,” Bianca said quickly.
Ruby crossed her arms. “She’s not fine. She’s doing that thing again.”
Bianca stiffened. “What thing?”
“That thing where you act like the world ends and begins with Zane Jones,” Ruby said. “You won’t even look at other guys. There were, like, two cute dudes checking you out at the mall last week and you literally didn’t blink.”
Bianca blinked now, slow. “Because I’m dating someone, Ruby.”
“Yeah, but you’re acting like you’re married.” Ruby tossed the dress dramatically over her arm. “I’m just saying - don’t get so wrapped up in that boy that you forget there’s options.”
Shayla winced. “Ruby…”
Bianca’s eyes sharpened, hurt flaring but her face remained neutral as if carved from marble. “You think I haven’t thought about my options? You think this is easy?”
Ruby shrugged, unapologetic. “I think you’re putting all your eggs in one basket and the basket’s, like… wobbling. That’s all.”
Bianca felt the heat build in her chest. “Of course it’s wobbling! He’s seventeen! I’m eighteen! We're about to live two states apart for most of the year! But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna just - just shop for someone else like it’s a sale at H&M!”
Ruby rolled her eyes. “I’m not saying shop. I’m saying don’t act like Michigan is some fairy tale that ends with him riding up to campus next year to be with you.”
Bianca’s jaw tightened at that. Because that was exactly the thing eating at her. The thing she hated that she cared about so much.
Shayla raised both hands. “Okay, okay - everyone take a breath.”
Ruby huffed but didn’t back down. “I love you, Bianca, but you’re letting this guy dictate your mood every five minutes.”
“And I love you, Ruby,” Bianca snapped, “but you’re being judgmental about something you don’t even understand.”
Ruby opened her mouth, but Shayla stepped between them, palms out like a referee begging for a timeout.
“Enough,” Shayla said firmly. “We’re supposed to be looking for prom dresses, not reenacting Love & Hip Hop: Pittsburgh Edition. Can we just, I don't know, dial it down? Please?”
Bianca looked away, blinking hard, her throat tightening. Ruby clicked her tongue and turned back to the mirror, clearly annoyed but quiet for now.
Shayla touched Bianca’s arm again - softer this time. “Bee… if you wanna talk about it, I’m here. But if you don’t, I’m still here.”
Bianca nodded, swallowing the lump in her chest. “I know. Sorry. I’m just… thinking too much.”
Shayla gave her a warm, lopsided smile. “That’s your Olympic sport.”
Bianca managed a breathy laugh.
But as Shayla dragged her toward another rack of dresses and Ruby resumed assessing her own reflection with dramatic sighs, Bianca’s thoughts drifted - unwilling, persistent - back to Zane.
Back to that moment in the parking lot where hope and uncertainty tangled inside her.
Back to the quiet fear she couldn’t name.