Season Stats 84-110, 883 Yds, 11 TD, INT, Sacked 7x, 26 Car, 134 Yds, 2 TD, fumble (lost) Remaining Schedule vs. #11 UCLA, vs. Illinois, at #8 Oregon, at #110 Nebraska, at Maryland, at #1 Ohio State, vs. Penn State, vs. Michigan State, vs. #15 Indiana
Last edited by Soapy on 20 Feb 2026, 07:57, edited 1 time in total.
LaPenna nodded. "You had a pretty good game this weekend."
"You could say that," Brice tried to hide his smirk, unsuccessfully, "We’ve got UCLA this week though."
"They any good?"
"Probably second best team we’ve played so far," Brice shifted in the chair, crossing his ankle over his knee. "If we’re going to do anything this year, though, we need to handle them at home."
"And classes?"
"Classes are classes."
Another note. LaPenna's pen scratched across the paper, the sound filling the silence between them. Brice watched him write, watched the way his hand moved in careful, measured strokes.
"You sleeping okay?" LaPenna asked.
"Yeah, mostly."
"Mostly?"
"I don't know, some nights are better than others. Nothing crazy."
LaPenna set the pen down on the notepad and leaned back slightly. "How are you feeling about the season so far?"
"I mean, we're 3-0. Can't complain about that."
"Right, but I'm asking how you're feeling about it."
Brice shrugged. "I feel good. The guys are playing better than I expected, earlier than I expected. We've got some things to clean up, but overall, I think we're in a good spot."
"What kind of things do you need to clean up?"
"Just execution stuff. Penalties. Dropped passes. The normal shit that happens early in the season when you’ve got so many first time starters."
LaPenna picked up his pen again, tapping it against the notepad. "You mentioned last time that you felt like there was more pressure on you this year. Is that still the case?"
"I mean, yeah, but it's manageable. I'm getting paid to handle pressure."
"That's a very transactional way to look at it."
"That's because it is transactional," Brice said. "I perform, they pay me. Pretty straightforward."
"Is it though?"
Brice met LaPenna's gaze. The man wasn't smiling, but there was something in his expression that Brice couldn't quite read.
"Yeah," Brice said. "It is."
LaPenna made another note. The pen scratched again, slower this time. Brice watched the clock on the wall behind LaPenna's head. They'd been at this for maybe ten minutes. Plenty of time left.
"How's your family?" LaPenna asked.
"They're alright. My dad came to the game."
"How was that for you? Having him there?"
"It was fine. He attends just about all of them."
"Did you get to spend time with him after?"
"A little bit. He came by the house afterwards, cooked dinner."
"That sounds nice."
"It was."
More scratching. Brice uncrossed his legs and recrossed them the other way. LaPenna was working hard here, trying to find an opening. Brice could feel it in the questions, in the pauses between them.
"You seeing anyone right now?" LaPenna asked.
"Sort of. Nothing serious."
"What does 'sort of' mean?"
"I'm hanging out with this girl. Serena. We're just seeing where it goes."
"How's that been?"
"Good. She's cool."
"Cool how?"
Brice thought about it. "I don't know. She's fun. Easy to be around. She doesn't make everything complicated."
"Is that important to you? Things not being complicated?"
"I mean, yeah. Who wants complicated?"
LaPenna smiled slightly. "Most relationships are complicated in some way."
"Maybe that's why most relationships don't work."
"Fair point," LaPenna set the pen down again, folding his hands over the notepad. "What else is going on? Anything on your mind?"
"Not really. Just trying to stay focused on the season."
"That's it?"
"Yeah, that's it."
The silence stretched between them. LaPenna didn't move, didn't pick up his pen, didn't shift in his seat. He just sat there, waiting. Brice kept his expression neutral, kept his body relaxed. This was a game, and he was winning.
"You know," Brice said finally, breaking the silence, "I'm really enjoying this."
"This," Brice gestured between them. "Watching you try to figure out how to get me to talk about the elephant in the room."
LaPenna's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes. "What elephant is that?"
"Come on, Doc. You know."
"I don't, actually."
"Sure you don't."
LaPenna leaned forward slightly. "Brice, if there's something you want to talk about, you can just say it. You don't need to wait for me to bring it up."
"But where's the fun in that?"
"This isn't supposed to be fun. It's supposed to be helpful."
Brice smiled, the expression not quite reaching his eyes. "And is it? Helpful, I mean."
LaPenna paused, his gaze steady. "Is what helpful?"
"These sessions. This whole thing," Brice waved his hand vaguely. "What's the point anymore?"
"What do you think the point is?"
"I don't know. I'm asking you."
"I'm asking you," LaPenna said. "What do you think the purpose of these sessions is?"
Brice let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Honestly? I'm not sure anymore."
"You used to be sure?"
"At first, yeah. It was part of the deal when I transferred here. The whole thing with Connie, how I ended up here. Purdue wanted to make sure they had their asses covered in case I fucked up again."
"And now?"
"Now I've been a model citizen. More or less. A small urinating incident aside. So I don’t know the point really."
LaPenna was quiet for a moment, his fingers drumming once against the notepad before going still. "If you don't think these sessions are helpful, you don't have to keep coming."
Brice scoffed. "Right."
"I'm serious. You're not required to be here, you never were. This is completely voluntary. If this isn't serving you, if you don't find value in it, then you're free to stop."
The words landed differently than Brice expected. He'd been waiting for pushback, for LaPenna to insist that he needed to keep coming, that there was still work to do. Instead, the man was just sitting there, calm as ever, offering him an out.
Brice's throat felt tight. He looked away from LaPenna, his eyes finding the diplomas on the wall, the bookshelf in the corner, anything but the man's face. The room suddenly felt smaller, the air thicker. Brice finally looked back at LaPenna. The man hadn't moved, hadn't changed his expression. He was just there, waiting, like he always was
Brice ran a hand through his hair, his fingers catching on a tangle. He pulled them free and let his hand drop to his lap. "I told you I’m seeing this new girl, Serena, right?"
"Yes, you did."
They sat in silence for a moment. Brice could hear the clock ticking again, the sound steady and rhythmic.
"So Serena," LaPenna said finally. "Tell me more about her."
…
The study room felt smaller than usual. Brice sat at the head of the table, his textbook open to a page he'd stopped reading ten minutes ago. Abdul was to his right, pencil tapping against his notebook in an irregular rhythm. Mel sat across from Brice, her attention fixed on her laptop screen with an intensity that seemed deliberate. Sabrina was next to her, occasionally glancing between them like she was watching a play unfold.
Two other students Brice barely knew filled out the remaining seats. One of them, a guy whose name he should have known but didn’t, kept clearing his throat every few minutes. The other, a girl with glasses, had her earbuds in despite this being a group study session.
Nobody was talking about statistics. Nobody was talking about much of anything.
Brice highlighted a passage in his textbook, the yellow marker squeaking across the page. He wasn't retaining any of it. His eyes moved over the words but his brain refused to process them. The silence pressed down on him, heavy and suffocating.
Abdul's pencil tapping got louder. Sabrina turned a page in her notebook with more force than necessary. Mel's typing slowed, then stopped, then started again. Brice knew what they weren't saying.
"So," Abdul said finally, his voice too loud in the quiet room, "Anyone get to the labs yet?"
The girl with glasses didn't respond. Sabrina flipped through her notebook, not looking up. Mel's fingers resumed their typing.
"I got stuck on them," the forgotten man offered, his voice uncertain.
Abdul nodded, already retreating back into silence. His pencil resumed its tapping.
Brice turned another page. The numbers and formulas blurred together. He should say something, should break this tension, but the words stuck in his throat. What was there to say?
Mel closed her laptop with a soft click. The sound cut through the room like a gunshot. She started packing her things. Textbook into the bag. Laptop into the sleeve. Pens into the front pocket.
"You heading out?" Abdul asked, checking his phone. "We still got the room for like twenty minutes."
"I have somewhere to be," Mel said, not looking at anyone in particular.
Sabrina glanced at her, eyebrows raised slightly, but said nothing. The girl with glasses pulled out one earbud, looked around, then put it back in. Brice watched Mel zip her backpack.
"Aight," Abdul said, looking back down at his notebook. "I guess we can probably call it a day then."
Mel stood, slinging her backpack over one shoulder. Brice pushed his chair back, the legs scraping against the floor. She was already moving toward the door.
"Mel," he said, standing up.
She didn’t stop as she headed out the door. Brice quickly moved around the table, closing the distance between them as he exited the room. "Mel."
She turned slightly, her expression unreadable. "What?"
"Can we talk?"
"About what?"
"Come on, you know what."
Mel sucked her teeth. "There's nothing to talk about."
"Come on, don't do that."
"Do what?" she scoffed as she turned back around.
He reached out without thinking, his hand closing around her forearm. "Mel, come on."
She went completely still.
Brice's hand fell away immediately. "I’m just trying to talk to you."
"Don't fucking touch me," Mel said, her tone familiar to him, just not from her.
"I know, I'm sorry. I just—" Brice took a step back, putting space between them. "I just want to explain the situation."
"There's nothing to explain."
"Yes, there is. I need you to understand—"
"No," Mel interrupted, adjusting her backpack strap. "You don't need to explain anything to me. If you need to explain to anyone, it's Serena."
The name hit him like a slap. "What?"
"Serena," Mel repeated. "Maybe you should be having this conversation with her instead of me."
"There's nothing going on between me and Serena," Brice said, the words coming out too fast.
Mel laughed. It was short and sharp and completely devoid of humor. "I'm sure she'd love to hear that."
"Mel—"
"We have literally nothing to talk about," she said as she kept on walking.
…
"There are worse addictions." Skylar's hand moved to her belly, a gesture that seemed automatic now.
The vendor called out an order number. Liz stood to collect their food, returning with two paper boats of loaded fries and a pair of bottles of water. She slid one set across to Skylar and settled back into her seat.
"How are you feeling?" Liz asked, opening her water.
"Tired. My back's been killing me." Skylar picked up a fry, examining it before putting it in her mouth. "But the baby's active, so that's good."
They ate in silence for a moment. Around them, students moved between food trucks, their conversations a low hum in the background. Liz watched Skylar, noting the way she kept glancing at her phone, then away, then back again.
"So," Skylar said finally, setting down her fork. "I wanted to apologize."
Liz kept her expression neutral. "For what?"
"Come on, you know what," Skylar's fingers traced the edge of her phone. "I should have given you a heads up before I put it up. It was just—I got the pictures back from the photographer and I was so excited, and I just posted it without thinking."
"You don't need to apologize to me," Liz said, her voice warm. "It's your pregnancy. Your news to share however you want."
"I know, but it affects Brice too. And by extension, your family." Skylar picked up another fry but didn't eat it. "It was rash. I wasn't thinking about how it would impact everyone else."
Liz took a bite of her own food, chewing slowly. She needed to be careful here.
"I understand the impulse," Liz said. "When you're pregnant, especially with your first, there's this overwhelming desire to share it with the world. To make it real by putting it out there."
"And those photos were beautiful. You looked radiant."
"Thank you." Skylar smiled. "When I saw them, I just felt so happy. Like, for the first time in months, I wasn't thinking about all the complicated stuff. I was just thinking about my baby."
Liz nodded, letting the silence sit between them. The conversation felt like deja vu because in a way, it was. Just a different setting and someone else sitting in front of her.
"I don't want the complexity of everything to take away from what should be a happy time," Skylar continued. "This is my son. My baby. And yes, the situation isn't ideal, but that doesn't make him any less of a blessing."
"Of course not," Liz agreed.
Skylar's hand moved to her belly again, protective. "I know he’s your son and I completely get the doubts but I’m telling you, Brice is one hundred percent the father. I've been completely open about DNA tests from the beginning. I even offered to do the non-invasive option, the one they can do before birth. He turned it down."
Liz kept her face carefully neutral. She hadn't known that detail. "Did he say why?"
"I don’t know, you’ll have to ask him," Skylar's voice had an edge to it now. "But I'm not lying. I know who the father is."
"I believe you," Liz said, and she meant it. Not because she trusted Skylar, but because she knew her son.
Skylar picked at her fries, her appetite seeming to fade. "I just want him to be involved. I want our son to know his father."
Liz took another sip of water, buying herself time.
"That's a beautiful sentiment," Liz said carefully. "And I hope it works out that way. But you know, pregnancy can make us feel things very intensely. The hormones, the emotions, sometimes our brains can't quite process everything rationally."
Skylar looked up. "What do you mean?"
"I'm just saying it's normal to feel overwhelmed. To have these big, complicated feelings about what you want versus what might actually be possible." Liz kept her tone gentle, almost casual. "It doesn't mean those feelings aren't valid. It just means you're human."
"I'm not overwhelmed," Skylar retorted.
"Of course not," Liz agreed quickly. "I'm just speaking generally. From my own experience."
Skylar relaxed slightly, taking the bait. "What was it like for you? After you had your kids?"
There it was. The opening Liz needed.
"It was hard," Liz sighed. "Harder than I expected. Everyone talks about how magical motherhood is, how it's this instant bond, but they don't talk about the other stuff."
"What other stuff?"
Liz set down her fork, her expression thoughtful. "The exhaustion. The way your body doesn't feel like your own anymore. The constant crying and I'm not just talking about the baby."
She paused, letting the words sink in. "With Jimmy, I had terrible postpartum. It was brutal."
Skylar's eyes widened slightly but she didn’t say anything.
"I loved my son, but those first few months, I couldn't connect with him the way I thought I would. Every time he cried, I felt like I was failing. Every time I couldn't soothe him, I felt like the worst mother in the world."
"That sounds awful," Skylar said quietly.
"It was. And the thing is, it can happen to anyone. It doesn't matter how prepared you are, how much you want the baby. Your brain chemistry just…shifts. And suddenly you're drowning in feelings you don't understand and can't control."
Skylar's hand moved to her belly again. "Did it get better?"
"Eventually, yes. But it took time. And medication. And a lot of support from Tom and my family," Liz leaned forward slightly. "I'm not trying to scare you. I'm just saying it's something to be aware of. Especially if you're doing this alone."
"I won't be alone," Skylar said, but the words sounded hollow. "My mom will help."
"That's good. You'll need help." Liz paused, choosing her next words carefully. "But even with help, early motherhood is isolating. You're up all night feeding, changing diapers, trying to figure out why the baby won't stop crying. Your friends move on with their lives. Your body is recovering. You're exhausted in a way you didn't know was possible."
Skylar had gone quiet, her fries forgotten. Liz could see the wheels turning behind her eyes, the doubt starting to creep in.
"And that's with a partner," Liz continued. "Someone to share the load with. I can't imagine doing it completely on my own."
"Brice might come around," Skylar said, the conviction lacking this time.
"I think so too," Liz agreed, letting the silence linger afterwards.
Skylar picked up her water, taking a long drink. When she set it down, her expression was harder to read. "I appreciate the honesty."
"Of course. That's what I'm here for." Liz picked up a fry, keeping her movements casual. "Whatever you decide, whatever happens, I want you to know you have support. You're not as alone as you might feel."
"Thank you," Skylar replied.
They finished eating in relative silence. When they stood to leave, Skylar paused, her hand on her belly again. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Do you ever regret having kids?"
The question hung in the air between them. Liz thought about Jimmy, about the hole his death had left in her life. She thought about Brice and all his complications. She thought about Sophie, still young enough to need her but old enough to see through her bullshit.
"No," Liz said finally.
Skylar nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. "I'll see you next week?"
19, 20 year old BLACK women chasing behind and being upset because of Brice’s goofy ass when he got a whole baby on the way is peak white privilege.
Liz not slick. We see the play. About to have both her grandchildren living with the same family. Surprised she didn’t really try that postpartum angle and say some wild shit like she tried to drown Jimmy’s ass or something.
Liz a pro. Worked once on Connie, but like I said before Skylar ain't a scared teenager, she plotting to ride the title Brice Colton's baby momma to as many Teen Mom and Real Housewives shows as she can. She got her golden ticket in her eyes
LaPenna gave Brice the out and he didn't take it. Just confirms Brice is a needy ass
running after Mel while ignoring your BM is wild. Mel dodging a bullet hopefully
but knowing Soap Perry she gonna fold and be a step-mom
19, 20 year old BLACK women chasing behind and being upset because of Brice’s goofy ass when he got a whole baby on the way is peak white privilege.
Liz not slick. We see the play. About to have both her grandchildren living with the same family. Surprised she didn’t really try that postpartum angle and say some wild shit like she tried to drown Jimmy’s ass or something.
Liz a pro. Worked once on Connie, but like I said before Skylar ain't a scared teenager, she plotting to ride the title Brice Colton's baby momma to as many Teen Mom and Real Housewives shows as she can. She got her golden ticket in her eyes
LaPenna gave Brice the out and he didn't take it. Just confirms Brice is a needy ass
running after Mel while ignoring your BM is wild. Mel dodging a bullet hopefully
but knowing Soap Perry she gonna fold and be a step-mom
