Damaged Petals.

[djp73]

make the playoffs

[Soapy]

make the playoffs

a bit bold in year 2

this team is rated low 70s across the board

[Soapy]

Season 5, Episode 4
The uniform felt like a costume Nia no longer wanted to wear. She waited until she turned the corner from her house, glancing back once to make sure her mother's car had disappeared down the street, before tugging the navy hoodie from her backpack and pulling it over the crisp white blouse. The pleated skirt remained, but the rest of her uniform vanished beneath anonymous cotton.

The stream of students flowed toward St. Joseph's gates, neat little soldiers in their pressed uniforms with their pressed futures. Nia watched them for a moment, then turned and walked in the opposite direction. Skipping had become second nature but she usually at least made the effort to grind through a period or two before hopping the gate.

The morning air carried a hint of spring, but Nia hunched her shoulders against it anyway, hands shoved deep in the hoodie's pockets. She found herself heading toward the park without consciously deciding to go there. She kept to the edge this time, walking the perimeter where trees offered shadows to hide in.

A laugh, unmistakably from a girl, floated from somewhere to her right. Nia hesitated, then moved cautiously toward the sound, stepping carefully to avoid crunching leaves. Through a break in the bushes, she saw them.

She recognized him right away but he didn’t have his usual cohorts with him this time. Brian had a girl pressed against a tree in a secluded corner where the park maintenance shed created a blind spot from the main paths. The girl's skirt was hiked up, her leg wrapped around his waist. His jeans were pushed down just enough, and they moved together in a way Nia had never seen yet alone experienced.

She wanted to leave, wanted to turn away but her feet remained rooted to the spot, her breath caught in her throat. The girl's head was thrown back, eyes closed, mouth open in silent pleasure. Brian's face was buried in her neck, one hand tangled in her hair while the other gripped her thigh.

Then Brian turned his head, scanning the area in a habitual check. His eyes locked with Nia's.

Her stomach dropped. Heat flooded her face. Run, she told her legs, fucking run, but they refused to obey.

Brian didn't stop. He didn't call out or look alarmed. Instead, the corner of his mouth curled into a knowing smirk. He held her gaze deliberately, his rhythm never faltering as he continued with the girl, who remained oblivious to their audience.

Nia's initial shock crystallized into something else, something she couldn’t quite describe. Maybe her therapist could, if she ever spoke to her. Her heart hammered against her ribs, but not from fear. Not anymore.

She and Jimmy had talked about it. Awkward, fumbling conversations about their "first time". They'd never gotten there. Those possibilities had died with him, buried in the same casket she couldn't bring herself to approach at the funeral.

Now she watched as Brian's eyes stayed on her, his movements becoming more deliberate, almost performative. The girl moaned, clutching his shoulders, still unaware.

Nia should have felt disgusted or embarrassed. Instead, she felt a strange power in witnessing something so private. The forbidden nature of the moment created an electric current between them, charged with something Nia didn't fully understand but couldn't turn away from.

So she stood there, watching Brian watching her, caught in a triangle of voyeurism and exhibition that awakened something she'd thought had died along with all her other feelings. It wasn't love or even attraction, it was rawer than that, more primal. It was life asserting itself in the shadow of death.

…

Brice stood outside the meeting room, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The door remained firmly closed, like it was daring him to open it. Through the narrow window, he could see a few rows of chairs, about half of them occupied. The gray-haired facilitator was arranging papers on her lap, not looking up.

This was his second time coming here. Second time standing in this exact spot, feeling like his feet were cemented to the floor. Three meetings, that's what he'd promised LaPenna. But he hadn't specified that Brice actually had to go inside, had he?

The small brass plaque beside the door read "Purdue Student Support Services - Room 204." Nothing about grief. Nothing about loss. Nothing about dead brothers. A familiar hollowness expanded in his chest. The same one that appeared whenever he let himself think about Jimmy for more than two seconds.

The elevator at the end of the hall dinged. Brice turned, already backing away from the door.

"Brice?"

Mel stood there, a purple binder clutched against her chest. Her usual braids were pulled back in a loose ponytail, Brice’s preferred hairstyle on her. Not that she knew. Not that it mattered.

"Hey," his voice rougher than he expected.

"Haven't seen you around much," her voice was softer than it usually was. Having a dead brother had that effect on people Brice had learned.

"Yeah, you know, football and shit," he shrugged.

Her eyes flicked to the door, then back to him. "You here for the group?"

Brice let out a short, humorless laugh. "This? Nah. Just coming from the lab."

The lie sat between them, transparent and pathetic. The lab was downstairs. Mel didn't call him on it, but her eyes saw right through him and Brice could tell.

"Right," she nodded slowly. "Well, I should get in there."

"You go to these things?" The question escaped before he could stop it.

"Yeah," she didn't elaborate. Didn't need to.

He nodded and walked away, feeling her eyes on his back. At the end of the hall, some impulse made him look back.

Mel was gone. The door to Room 204 was closing, and through the narrowing gap, he caught a glimpse of her sliding into an empty chair, placing her binder carefully on her lap. The door clicked shut.

…

By the time Brice reached Augustus' party that night, he'd had enough shots to blur the edges of his vision. The bass thumped through the floor, vibrating up through his feet as he navigated the crowded living room. Someone pressed a red cup into his hand. He drank without tasting.

"Brice!" A girl with AKA letters on her shirt appeared at his side. "I was hoping you'd show up."

He recognized her from somewhere, but couldn’t quite place her, he rarely could. She had a nice smile, warm brown eyes that probably got his attention the first time he laid eyes on her.

"I love pleasing the people," he took another swig from his cup.

The night went on the way it always did. More shots. A couple of mixed drinks. A drag or two if anyone offered. Tons and tons of beer. It ended the way it usually ended, with Brice stumbling into some girl’s dorm room, her hissing at him to be quiet so he wouldn’t wake her roommates. Him not caring, maybe even wanting them to catch a glimpse of the great Brice Colton, Big Ten Freshman of the Year.

Brice threw himself onto the bed as she closed the door behind them, double-checking the lock. She moved quickly, undoing her earrings, catching sight of her smeared makeup in the mirror perched on her desk. She turned around, half-expecting Brice to be at least partially undressed. Instead, he was still fully clothed, half-awake, staring up at the ceiling.

“You good?” she asked, unable to read his face for the first time all night. Up until then, he’d been simple: tipsy, drunk, pissy drunk, horny but now there was something else there, a complexity she couldn’t crack.

He didn’t answer. He just kept staring.

At first, frustration crept in. She’d spent the whole party worked up by his constant touching, his mouth on her neck, his hands everywhere. But as she watched him, that frustration softened into something closer to pity. She turned off the lights as she undressed, then slid into the bed beside him, tucking herself under his arm. He pulled her close, closer than she expected, holding on like this was more than just another drunken college night.

It was for Brice. At least for tonight.

[Caesar]

make the playoffs

a bit bold in year 2

this team is rated low 70s across the board

Caine Guerra led Georgia Southern to the playoffs as a freshman but I guess it’s levels to this and Brice Colton is just Johnny Manziel 2.0.

Man what kind of shit Nia on?

And now Brice going around West Lafayette finding random women to cry to? Lawd hammercy. Get this fn outta here. This what you got a therapist for, bih.

[redsox907]

All of a sudden Brice supposed to be a leader as if this time last year he didn’t set up his teammate’s girl almost resulting in her getting raped?????

maybe I'm forgetting, but didn't he save her from getting raped lmao

we won't mention she was only there cause Brice was plotting on her

NIa going full perv was not what I saw coming. Girl bout to be a FREAK

Brice gonna ruin his reputation crying to the hos

[Captain Canada]

That shordy gotta be mad as well. Got all dressed up (and down), just to be a shoulder to cry on

[Caesar]

maybe I'm forgetting, but didn't he save her from getting raped lmao

we won't mention she was only there cause Brice was plotting on her

Thank you! This man always talking about people gaslighting the readers in these RTGs. This is Brice almost getting this girl raped because he was trying to piss off a teammate and having save her from a situation he put her in.

Brice’s interest was only piqued when the drinks kept coming, followed by more shots, and soon after, Brooke was practically slumped over on the linebacker’s shoulder as he slowly nursed his drink. Like a safety creeping up toward the line of scrimmage, Brice could see the play. The constant looking toward the bathroom, monitoring who was around and who wasn’t. As soon as the linebacker stood up, grabbing Brooke’s hand and helping her to her feet, Brice rose as well.

"Can you get something to drink?" the brunette asked. Brice nodded, barely paying attention as he kept an eye on the two as they moved toward the bathroom. The linebacker was only a few feet away when Brice firmly placed a hand on his chest.

"The fuck you doing?" Brice asked.

"What do you mean what I’m doing?" the linebacker scoffed, swatting Brice’s hand down. "We’re just going to use the bathroom."

"Do I look fucking dumb to you, bro?" Brice tilted his head before looking at Brooke. "You good?"

"Yeah, she’s good," the linebacker answered for her as Brooke remained quiet, slowly blinking as she tried to steady herself.

The standoff had drawn the attention of other partygoers, including Walter, who had been nursing a soda water in the corner all night.

"We’re good here, guys?" Walter stepped in, keeping his tone light in an attempt to diffuse the situation.

"Brice is being a fucking dick, as always," the linebacker snapped, sucking his teeth. "What, you mad that she’s fucking me instead?"

Brice let out a wry laugh, looking to the side before snapping back and shoving his palm into the guy’s face, causing him to stumble back. Before the linebacker could counter, he was quickly engulfed by Abdul, who outweighed him by nearly sixty pounds.

"Don’t do it," Abdul warned as he pinned him against the wall. "This ain’t gonna go how you want it to go."

The linebacker let out an exasperated sigh as Abdul, along with a few other linemen, guided him out of the apartment.

"Nigga, did you just use your right fucking hand?" Artie teased, approaching Brice and bringing levity back to the room as people slowly looked away.

[Soapy]

make the playoffs

a bit bold in year 2

this team is rated low 70s across the board

Caine Guerra led Georgia Southern to the playoffs as a freshman but I guess it’s levels to this and Brice Colton is just Johnny Manziel 2.0.

Man what kind of shit Nia on?

And now Brice going around West Lafayette finding random women to cry to? Lawd hammercy. Get this fn outta here. This what you got a therapist for, bih.

having to face Old Dominion and Marshall and Coastal Carolina

maybe I'm forgetting, but didn't he save her from getting raped lmao

we won't mention she was only there cause Brice was plotting on her

NIa going full perv was not what I saw coming. Girl bout to be a FREAK

Brice gonna ruin his reputation crying to the hos

Thank you! This man always talking about people gaslighting the readers in these RTGs. This is Brice almost getting this girl raped because he was trying to piss off a teammate and having save her from a situation he put her in.

I think Redsox is agreeing with me, cuz

and having your reputation being heartbroken over your dead brother is an improvement from how things ended at St. Joe's

That shordy gotta be mad as well. Got all dressed up (and down), just to be a shoulder to cry on

play your role, bih

[Soapy]

this for you djp

[Soapy]