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Soapy
- Posts: 16591
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 18:42
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this comment is hilarious in hindsightShireNiner wrote: ↑17 Mar 2026, 10:09People are underestimating the internal anger these guys have. They need to let it out somehow and these clowns about to get it.
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Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 7864
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
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Darius catching so much slander on his jacket for no reason
Soapy wrote: ↑31 Mar 2026, 21:08this comment is hilarious in hindsightShireNiner wrote: ↑17 Mar 2026, 10:09People are underestimating the internal anger these guys have. They need to let it out somehow and these clowns about to get it.
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Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 7864
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
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Season III | Chapter XX - Saturday Night Fever
The roar didn’t fade when the clock hit zero, it shifted to a degree Zane didn’t think it could. Like it became something alive.
The kind of the sound that didn’t just sit in your ears, but rattled around your chest, climbed up your spine, made your fingers twitch like you needed to be part of it or risk getting swallowed whole.
Zane stood there, just off the sideline, eyes scanning a sea of maize and blue that refused to settle. The scoreboard still read 21-16, but it almost didn’t matter anymore. The result had already been absorbed into something bigger.
Players stormed past him toward the tunnel, helmets off, faces lit up, screaming, pointing.
“Y’all boys better pull up next year!”
“The only option is Mich U, lil’ homies!”
One of them smacked Zane lightly in the chest and pointed in his direction like he already belonged. Not recruits. Not a group.
Him.
Zane grinned, clapping, feeding into it, but there was a flicker behind it. Something more measured. Next to him, Cam was practically vibrating.
“Bro,” Cam said half-laughing, half in disbelief. “Nah, this is it. I ain’t even sorry. What could possibly be better than this?”
Zane didn’t answer right away. He didn’t have an answer. He let his eyes drift back to the field. The goalposts. The student section still jumping like the game hadn’t ended. The band blaring something triumphant and eternal.
It felt easy to picture himself here. Too easy for all the warning all of the adults in his life that he shouldn’t be wowed by the first P4 school he visited. That they all had something adjacent to this.
“Yeah,” Zane said just loud enough for Cam to take it in. “This is fucking nuts.”
Cam glanced at him, narrowing his eyes slightly. “You hear yourself? This shit is otherworldly, bro. I need my offer yesterday.”
Zane smirked. “They’ll bless you man, I know that shit gotta be coming. I’m just trying not to get too ahead of myself with this shit.”
Cam scoffed. “Man, ain’t nothing to think about. We in the Big House. Look at this crowd. Your girl already here and shit?” He paused, now grinning. “Congratulations, Mr. Jones - you are a Wolverine.”
Zane shook his head, but couldn’t stop the small smile building on his face. His gaze drifted upward into the stands.
It was almost impossible to pick anyone out individually. Tens of thousands of face, all blending together into noise and color and motion. But he knew she was there. Somewhere.
For a moment, everything slowed. He pictured it. Walking the same tunnel every Saturday. Hearing this very same crowd chanting his name. Bianca in the stands, maybe bundled up in the cold, yelling down at him, that same fire in her eyes.
Late nights on campus. Early morning lifts. Games that actually meant something on a national stage. His highlights landing on ESPN.
Zane exhaled slowly, watching as the crowd of recruits started to be funnelled through the tunnel to follow where the Michigan team had paraded through. Some were uncommitted similarly to himself, some were on unofficial visits they had to pay for themselves like Cam, but the heavy majority were players who had verbally committed to the Maize & Blue already.
The private dining room sat tucked in the back of the athletic facility, dimly lit with long hanging fixtures casting a soft yellow glow over the tables. Michigan branding was everywhere - subtle, but deliberate. Navy table runners, small maize centerpieces, even the napkins folded with the block “M” facing outward.
Plates clinked. Silverware scraped. The low hum of conversation filled the room, broken up every so often by bursts of laughter from one side of the table.
Zane sat midway down the right side, shoulders squared, hands resting near his plate. He hadn’t touched much of his food - some grilled chicken, rice, vegetables now going cold. His eyes moved more than his mouth did, quietly tracking everything.
Across from him, two receivers from Florida leaned back in their chairs, chains glinting under the lights, phones occasionally lighting up as they flipped through clips.
“I’m telling you,” one of them said, turning his screen so the others could see, “they was bracketing me all fuckin’ game and I still popped they ass for 180. Like, fuck they gonna do against me?”
The other laughed. “Man, that’s lightwork. I had three tuddies in a half. Coach had to pull me before I embarrassed them niggas.”
A couple of recruits down the table chuckled, nodding along. Cam sat beside Zane, chewing slowly, eyes flicking between the guys and Zane like he was trying to read the room.
At the head of the table, Bryce leaned back in his chair, one arm draped casually over the backrest. He had a calm to him - controlled, almost bored.
“Y’all about to be in college now,” Bryce said, cutting through the noise without raising his voice. “Everybody got highlights. Don’t nobody give a fuck about what y’all did to some corner going to community college next year.”
The table quieted just a bit.
Bryce shrugged, reaching for his drink, eyecubes still remaining afloat. “I was the number one recruit in the country last year. That shit ain’t mean nothing here either. You earn that bitch again.”
One of the Florida kids smirked, but didn’t respond. Another recruit down the table let out a low “damn.”
Zane kept his head down slightly, but there was a faint shift in his posture. He respected that.
At the other end, Coach Sherrone Moore sat with a few staffers who were in the process of packing up their belongings since they were towards the tail-end of the dinner. His phone continued to light up intermittently beside his plate. He would glance down, type something quit, then re-engage like nothing happened.
“Fellas,” Coach Moore said, looking up again, “I hope y’all are enjoying yourselves. It’s been a great weekend, got a big win this evening, been great energy.”
A few nods, a couple “yes sir’s.”
His eyes scanned the table, then landed on Zane. “Jones,” he said, casual but direct. “You got family coming in for the breakfast tomorrow morning?”
A few heads turned immediately.
Zane looked up, pausing for just a second. “No, sir. I just have my teammate, Cam here to timed up his unofficial with my OV.”
Coach Moore nodded once. “All good.”
One of the recruits from down South - maybe Louisiana or Georgia - leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table. “They couldn’t make it or they just ain’t come?”
Zane’s jaw tightened just a fraction. “They couldn’t make it.”
“Damn,” someone muttered. “That’s crazy. My momma made me bring her with me, shit was wack.”
Cam shifted in his seat beside him, setting his fork down a little harder than he meant to.
Bryce leaned forward now, resting his forearms on the table, eyes on Zane. “Pops pulling a double or something?” he asked, blunt. No edge in his tone - just direct.
Cam’s head snapped slightly toward Zane. He didn’t hesitate this time.
“He’s in prison” he said flatly. “Manslaughter.”
The words landed heavy. The room didn’t quite go silent, but it got damn near close.
A fork paused mid-air somewhere down the table. One of the recruits leaned back slowly in his chair. Another looked down at his plate like he suddenly found it very interesting.
Cam exhaled quietly through his noise. He knew what was coming, and it still affected him all the same.
Bryce held Zane’s gaze for a second longer, then nodded once. Not pity or judgement. Just acknowledgement.
“Aight,” he said simply, leaning back again.
Coach Moore tapped his fingers lightly on the table, reading the shift immediately.
“Alright fellas,” he said clapping his hands once, easy smile returning. “Let’s not make this into a thing, it’s none of our business the details of Mr. Jones’ personal life, alright?”
A few light chuckles broke the tension. He pushed his chair back slightly, standing. “Appreciate y’all coming out tonight. We’re gonna wrap this thing up - get you guys moving a little. Some of our players gonna take you around campus, show you a few things.”
One of the assistant coaches smirked. “Show you all the things Michigan football has to offer young talent.”
That drew a few more laughs, looser this time. Chairs started to slide back. Plates were left half-finished. Conversations picked back up, but quieter, more contained.
Zane stood with the rest, grabbing his phone off the table. Cam leaned in slightly. “You alright, bro?”
Zane nodded once. Yeah, I’m alright. After the whole Malik scenario all year, I have to just face the whole ‘my Dad killed a man’ thing head-on.”
Cam didn’t respond, just nodded and patting him on the shoulder. Across the room, Bryce was already talking to another group of recruits, pointing toward the exit. A couple of the veteran players gathered near the door, keys in hand, energy picking up again.
The night wasn’t over. As the group started to file out, Zane fell in line with them, hands in his pockets, eyes forward. The campus lights outside stretched into the distance.
The house pulsed like it had a heartbeat.
Bass from the speakers thumped through the walls, rattling picture frames and sending vibrations through the floorboards. The air upstairs was thick - sweat, perfume, cheap liquor all blending into something sharp and warm. Every room was packed shoulder-to-shoulder, bodies moving, shouting over music, laughing too loud.
Bianca stood near the kitchen island, one hand wrapped around a red cup, the other braced against the counter to stead herself. Her costume clung to her - black fabric layered with taped Queen of Spades cards, a few of them already peeling at the edges from the heat and movement.
Across from her, Katie spun in a loose circle, white wings bouncing slightly on her back, halo tilted off-center.
“I’m telling you,” Katie shouted over the music, leaning in close, “this is way better than last night.”
Bianca laughed, though it came out a little delayed. “You say that ever hour.”
“Bitch, because it’s fucking true!”
Katie grabbed her wrist suddenly. “C’mon.”
Before Bianca could ask where, she was being pulled through the crowd - past the living room where people were dancing on furniture, past a hallway clogged with bodies, toward a narrow staircase tucked near the back.
The music dulled slightly as they moved downstairs, replaced by a lower, heavier beat. The basement was dimmer, lit mostly by a couple of standing lamps and a string of colored lights running along the ceiling.
It was less packed. More contained.
Clusters of people sat on old couches or leaned against the walls. Conversations were closer, more deliberate.
A group of guys near a coffee table looked up as Katie approached. “Finally,” one of them said, grinning. “Thought you bailed.”
Katie smirked. “Please, I just had to grab my girly here.”
Bianca gave a small wave, leaning slightly into Katie’s shoulder to keep her balance.
Introductions blurred together - names she didn’t fully catch, something about the hockey team, a couple jokes that made everyone laugh a little too hard.
Then the energy shifted. One of the guys cleared space on the table, pulling something small from his pocket. Another leaned forward, already reaching.
Bianca’s smile faded just a fraction.
Katie didn’t hesitate. She stepped closer, watching with casual familiarity. Bianca stayed where she was, her grip tightening slightly around her cup.
Her phone buzzed in her hand. She glanced down.
Zane: Just got out. Heading your way now.
Her stomach flipped.
“He’s coming?” Katie asked, catching the look.
Bianca nodded. “Yeah, he shouldn’t be too far.”
Katie tilted her head, studying her. “You’ve been freaking out all day.”
“I have not.”
“You have,” Katie laughed. “You drank a whole bottle of white wine in like 30 minutes. Even I was impressed.”
Bianca opened her mouth to argue, then stopped.
Katie reached out, brushing her arm lightly. “Just relax for a second.”
Bianca shook her head, glancing back toward the table. “No, Katie, I really can’t-”
“Oh my god, take the fist out of your ass,” Katie cut in. “You’re already here. You’re already fucked up. Just let go a little.”
Bianca hesitated.
Across the room, someone laughed loudly. The bass thumped again, slower down here but heavier. The air felt warmer, thicker.
Her heart was already beating fast.
Her thought felt scattered. “I don’t want this to be like a thing,” Bianca said, more to herself than anyone.
Katie shrugged. “Then don’t make it a thing.”
Bianca looked down at her phone again. No new message.
She could picture Zane walking in upstairs, looking for her. That small smile he got when he finally spotted her in a crowd.
Her chest tightened. She looked back at the table. Then at Katie. Then down at her drink.
Her fingers loosened slightly around the cup as she exhaled, slow but unsteady. She just stood there.
The roar didn’t fade when the clock hit zero, it shifted to a degree Zane didn’t think it could. Like it became something alive.
The kind of the sound that didn’t just sit in your ears, but rattled around your chest, climbed up your spine, made your fingers twitch like you needed to be part of it or risk getting swallowed whole.
Zane stood there, just off the sideline, eyes scanning a sea of maize and blue that refused to settle. The scoreboard still read 21-16, but it almost didn’t matter anymore. The result had already been absorbed into something bigger.
Players stormed past him toward the tunnel, helmets off, faces lit up, screaming, pointing.
“Y’all boys better pull up next year!”
“The only option is Mich U, lil’ homies!”
One of them smacked Zane lightly in the chest and pointed in his direction like he already belonged. Not recruits. Not a group.
Him.
Zane grinned, clapping, feeding into it, but there was a flicker behind it. Something more measured. Next to him, Cam was practically vibrating.
“Bro,” Cam said half-laughing, half in disbelief. “Nah, this is it. I ain’t even sorry. What could possibly be better than this?”
Zane didn’t answer right away. He didn’t have an answer. He let his eyes drift back to the field. The goalposts. The student section still jumping like the game hadn’t ended. The band blaring something triumphant and eternal.
It felt easy to picture himself here. Too easy for all the warning all of the adults in his life that he shouldn’t be wowed by the first P4 school he visited. That they all had something adjacent to this.
“Yeah,” Zane said just loud enough for Cam to take it in. “This is fucking nuts.”
Cam glanced at him, narrowing his eyes slightly. “You hear yourself? This shit is otherworldly, bro. I need my offer yesterday.”
Zane smirked. “They’ll bless you man, I know that shit gotta be coming. I’m just trying not to get too ahead of myself with this shit.”
Cam scoffed. “Man, ain’t nothing to think about. We in the Big House. Look at this crowd. Your girl already here and shit?” He paused, now grinning. “Congratulations, Mr. Jones - you are a Wolverine.”
Zane shook his head, but couldn’t stop the small smile building on his face. His gaze drifted upward into the stands.
It was almost impossible to pick anyone out individually. Tens of thousands of face, all blending together into noise and color and motion. But he knew she was there. Somewhere.
For a moment, everything slowed. He pictured it. Walking the same tunnel every Saturday. Hearing this very same crowd chanting his name. Bianca in the stands, maybe bundled up in the cold, yelling down at him, that same fire in her eyes.
Late nights on campus. Early morning lifts. Games that actually meant something on a national stage. His highlights landing on ESPN.
Zane exhaled slowly, watching as the crowd of recruits started to be funnelled through the tunnel to follow where the Michigan team had paraded through. Some were uncommitted similarly to himself, some were on unofficial visits they had to pay for themselves like Cam, but the heavy majority were players who had verbally committed to the Maize & Blue already.
***
The private dining room sat tucked in the back of the athletic facility, dimly lit with long hanging fixtures casting a soft yellow glow over the tables. Michigan branding was everywhere - subtle, but deliberate. Navy table runners, small maize centerpieces, even the napkins folded with the block “M” facing outward.
Plates clinked. Silverware scraped. The low hum of conversation filled the room, broken up every so often by bursts of laughter from one side of the table.
Zane sat midway down the right side, shoulders squared, hands resting near his plate. He hadn’t touched much of his food - some grilled chicken, rice, vegetables now going cold. His eyes moved more than his mouth did, quietly tracking everything.
Across from him, two receivers from Florida leaned back in their chairs, chains glinting under the lights, phones occasionally lighting up as they flipped through clips.
“I’m telling you,” one of them said, turning his screen so the others could see, “they was bracketing me all fuckin’ game and I still popped they ass for 180. Like, fuck they gonna do against me?”
The other laughed. “Man, that’s lightwork. I had three tuddies in a half. Coach had to pull me before I embarrassed them niggas.”
A couple of recruits down the table chuckled, nodding along. Cam sat beside Zane, chewing slowly, eyes flicking between the guys and Zane like he was trying to read the room.
At the head of the table, Bryce leaned back in his chair, one arm draped casually over the backrest. He had a calm to him - controlled, almost bored.
“Y’all about to be in college now,” Bryce said, cutting through the noise without raising his voice. “Everybody got highlights. Don’t nobody give a fuck about what y’all did to some corner going to community college next year.”
The table quieted just a bit.
Bryce shrugged, reaching for his drink, eyecubes still remaining afloat. “I was the number one recruit in the country last year. That shit ain’t mean nothing here either. You earn that bitch again.”
One of the Florida kids smirked, but didn’t respond. Another recruit down the table let out a low “damn.”
Zane kept his head down slightly, but there was a faint shift in his posture. He respected that.
At the other end, Coach Sherrone Moore sat with a few staffers who were in the process of packing up their belongings since they were towards the tail-end of the dinner. His phone continued to light up intermittently beside his plate. He would glance down, type something quit, then re-engage like nothing happened.
“Fellas,” Coach Moore said, looking up again, “I hope y’all are enjoying yourselves. It’s been a great weekend, got a big win this evening, been great energy.”
A few nods, a couple “yes sir’s.”
His eyes scanned the table, then landed on Zane. “Jones,” he said, casual but direct. “You got family coming in for the breakfast tomorrow morning?”
A few heads turned immediately.
Zane looked up, pausing for just a second. “No, sir. I just have my teammate, Cam here to timed up his unofficial with my OV.”
Coach Moore nodded once. “All good.”
One of the recruits from down South - maybe Louisiana or Georgia - leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table. “They couldn’t make it or they just ain’t come?”
Zane’s jaw tightened just a fraction. “They couldn’t make it.”
“Damn,” someone muttered. “That’s crazy. My momma made me bring her with me, shit was wack.”
Cam shifted in his seat beside him, setting his fork down a little harder than he meant to.
Bryce leaned forward now, resting his forearms on the table, eyes on Zane. “Pops pulling a double or something?” he asked, blunt. No edge in his tone - just direct.
Cam’s head snapped slightly toward Zane. He didn’t hesitate this time.
“He’s in prison” he said flatly. “Manslaughter.”
The words landed heavy. The room didn’t quite go silent, but it got damn near close.
A fork paused mid-air somewhere down the table. One of the recruits leaned back slowly in his chair. Another looked down at his plate like he suddenly found it very interesting.
Cam exhaled quietly through his noise. He knew what was coming, and it still affected him all the same.
Bryce held Zane’s gaze for a second longer, then nodded once. Not pity or judgement. Just acknowledgement.
“Aight,” he said simply, leaning back again.
Coach Moore tapped his fingers lightly on the table, reading the shift immediately.
“Alright fellas,” he said clapping his hands once, easy smile returning. “Let’s not make this into a thing, it’s none of our business the details of Mr. Jones’ personal life, alright?”
A few light chuckles broke the tension. He pushed his chair back slightly, standing. “Appreciate y’all coming out tonight. We’re gonna wrap this thing up - get you guys moving a little. Some of our players gonna take you around campus, show you a few things.”
One of the assistant coaches smirked. “Show you all the things Michigan football has to offer young talent.”
That drew a few more laughs, looser this time. Chairs started to slide back. Plates were left half-finished. Conversations picked back up, but quieter, more contained.
Zane stood with the rest, grabbing his phone off the table. Cam leaned in slightly. “You alright, bro?”
Zane nodded once. Yeah, I’m alright. After the whole Malik scenario all year, I have to just face the whole ‘my Dad killed a man’ thing head-on.”
Cam didn’t respond, just nodded and patting him on the shoulder. Across the room, Bryce was already talking to another group of recruits, pointing toward the exit. A couple of the veteran players gathered near the door, keys in hand, energy picking up again.
The night wasn’t over. As the group started to file out, Zane fell in line with them, hands in his pockets, eyes forward. The campus lights outside stretched into the distance.
***
The house pulsed like it had a heartbeat.
Bass from the speakers thumped through the walls, rattling picture frames and sending vibrations through the floorboards. The air upstairs was thick - sweat, perfume, cheap liquor all blending into something sharp and warm. Every room was packed shoulder-to-shoulder, bodies moving, shouting over music, laughing too loud.
Bianca stood near the kitchen island, one hand wrapped around a red cup, the other braced against the counter to stead herself. Her costume clung to her - black fabric layered with taped Queen of Spades cards, a few of them already peeling at the edges from the heat and movement.
Across from her, Katie spun in a loose circle, white wings bouncing slightly on her back, halo tilted off-center.
“I’m telling you,” Katie shouted over the music, leaning in close, “this is way better than last night.”
Bianca laughed, though it came out a little delayed. “You say that ever hour.”
“Bitch, because it’s fucking true!”
Katie grabbed her wrist suddenly. “C’mon.”
Before Bianca could ask where, she was being pulled through the crowd - past the living room where people were dancing on furniture, past a hallway clogged with bodies, toward a narrow staircase tucked near the back.
The music dulled slightly as they moved downstairs, replaced by a lower, heavier beat. The basement was dimmer, lit mostly by a couple of standing lamps and a string of colored lights running along the ceiling.
It was less packed. More contained.
Clusters of people sat on old couches or leaned against the walls. Conversations were closer, more deliberate.
A group of guys near a coffee table looked up as Katie approached. “Finally,” one of them said, grinning. “Thought you bailed.”
Katie smirked. “Please, I just had to grab my girly here.”
Bianca gave a small wave, leaning slightly into Katie’s shoulder to keep her balance.
Introductions blurred together - names she didn’t fully catch, something about the hockey team, a couple jokes that made everyone laugh a little too hard.
Then the energy shifted. One of the guys cleared space on the table, pulling something small from his pocket. Another leaned forward, already reaching.
Bianca’s smile faded just a fraction.
Katie didn’t hesitate. She stepped closer, watching with casual familiarity. Bianca stayed where she was, her grip tightening slightly around her cup.
Her phone buzzed in her hand. She glanced down.
Zane: Just got out. Heading your way now.
Her stomach flipped.
“He’s coming?” Katie asked, catching the look.
Bianca nodded. “Yeah, he shouldn’t be too far.”
Katie tilted her head, studying her. “You’ve been freaking out all day.”
“I have not.”
“You have,” Katie laughed. “You drank a whole bottle of white wine in like 30 minutes. Even I was impressed.”
Bianca opened her mouth to argue, then stopped.
Katie reached out, brushing her arm lightly. “Just relax for a second.”
Bianca shook her head, glancing back toward the table. “No, Katie, I really can’t-”
“Oh my god, take the fist out of your ass,” Katie cut in. “You’re already here. You’re already fucked up. Just let go a little.”
Bianca hesitated.
Across the room, someone laughed loudly. The bass thumped again, slower down here but heavier. The air felt warmer, thicker.
Her heart was already beating fast.
Her thought felt scattered. “I don’t want this to be like a thing,” Bianca said, more to herself than anyone.
Katie shrugged. “Then don’t make it a thing.”
Bianca looked down at her phone again. No new message.
She could picture Zane walking in upstairs, looking for her. That small smile he got when he finally spotted her in a crowd.
Her chest tightened. She looked back at the table. Then at Katie. Then down at her drink.
Her fingers loosened slightly around the cup as she exhaled, slow but unsteady. She just stood there.
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Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 7864
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Invictus
She's just like anyone her age, trying to figure out who she is before the world gets too real, brudda
The turn tables, indeed
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Captain Canada
Topic author - Posts: 7864
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Invictus
Season IV | Chapter I - Just My Imagination
The front door barely had time to close behind them before the noise swallowed everything.
Music blasted from somewhere deeper in the house - loud enough that the bass thumped through Zane’s chest. The living room was a wall of bodies, people packed tight, shoulders brushing, drinks sloshing as hands went up with the beat. Someone had dragged a speaker onto a coffee table, wires running across the floor like trip hazards nobody cared about.
Zane stepped in behind Bryce and a few of the Michigan players and recruits, his eyes moving fast, trying to take it all in.
This wasn’t like back home. Not event lose.
The houses in Upper St. Clair had space - big rooms, polished floors, people trying to act like they weren’t being watched. This was the opposite. Loud. Packed. Messy.
A girl bumped into him, laughing, not even looking back as she kept moving. Another squeezed past with a tray of drinks, sloshing amber liquid over the rims of plastic cups.
Cam leaned in close, practically yelling, “Bro, do you see this?”
Zane shook his head slightly. “Bro, I can’t see shit.”
And it was true. Everywhere he looked - faces, movement, flashes of costumes. Someone dressed like a pirate climbed onto a couch. Another guy in a referee shirt tried to keep balance while holding a full cup over his head.
Then the energy shifted. It was subtle at first - heads turning, people nudging each other - but it spread fast.
Eyes locked onto the group. That was until Zane realized the attention was more specifically targeted.
Bryce Underwood.
“Yo, QB1!”
Voices called out from different parts of the room. Phones came up. A couple guys pushed through the crowd just to dap him up as he passed. You could almost forget that he was a 19-year-old kid.
Bryce barely broke stride, nodding, smirking, completely used to it.
Zane felt the attention brush past him like heat, rolling off Bryce and onto everyone around him. For a second, it made his shoulders tighten.
Cam nudged him again, grinning wide. “Man, I’m in heaven.”
Zane snorted. “I still can’t see a goddamn thing. It’s like everyone that was in the stadium are in this house now.”
Before he could get another word out, one of the Michigan players looped an arm around his shoulders and shoved a red cup into his hand.
“Drink up, pussies!” the man shouted. “Welcome to the real Michigan experience!”
Another player handed Cam a cup, clapping him on the back. “Yall ‘croots gotta loosen the fuck up!”
Cam didn’t hesitate. “Say less,” he said, already lifting it.
Zane looked down at his cup - dark liquid sloshing near the top - then back up at the chaos around him.
“I’m good, y’all,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m just trying to find my girl.”
The man, his blonde hair perfectly cropped like he had gotten it done between the game finishing and showing up at the party, laughed like it was funniest thing he had heard all night.
“Your girl?” he leaned in, grinning. “Man, look at this rager - she’s probably got dick in her as we speak.”
A couple of the others laughed with him. Cam flashed Zane a look before going back to his cup.
“Don’t even worry about that,” another added, gesturing toward a group of girls across the room who were already looking their way. “We got tons of hoes ready to show hole for y’all as soon as you ask.”
Zane’s jaw tightened slightly. He shook his head again, more firmly this time.
“I’m good, thanks.”
He handed the cup off to someone passing by without even looking and stepped away from the group.
Cam hesitated, caught between following Zane and staying put.
One of the players threw an arm around Cam instead. “Your boy trippin’, man. You good though.”
Cam glanced at Zane disappearing into the crowd, then back at the group - and the girls.
“Yeah,” he said, a slow grin creeping onto his face. “I’m good.”
Zane pushed through the living room, slipping past shoulders and bodies, scanning every face he could catch.
No sign of Bianca. He checked his phone quickly. No new messages.
The house stretched deeper than he expected - hallways branching off, a staircase leading down, another set of stairs heading up. People moved in every direction, some dancing, some shouting over each other, some just leaning against walls watching it all unold.
Zane paused near the base of the stairs, eyes flicking between levels.
Upstairs. Downstairs.
He exhaled once, steadying himself. He turned and started moving again, deeper into the house.
The back door slammed shut behind him, the music dulling instantly as Zane stepped outside.
The air hit him first - cool, sharp, cutting through the heat that had been clinging to his skin inside. He exhaled, rolling his shoulders slightly as he stepped down onto the small patio.
It wasn’t much.
A patch of worn grass boxed in by a wooden fence, a couple of cheap plastic chairs scattered around a metal table that had seen better day. String lights hung loosely overhead, a few bulbs flickering. Beyond the fence, another house sat just as crowded, its own backyard packed with people moving under dim lights.
Zane took a few steps forward, scanning the space.
For a second, it looked empty. Then he caught movement to his right.
A couple pressed up against the fence, tangled together, kissing like they were trying to disappear into each other. The guy’s hands were already inside the girl’s pants.
Zane quickly looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “Word…”
“Yo.”
The voice came from above.
Zane looked up. Bryce leaned over the railing of a small second-floor deck, one arm draped over the wood, a red cup hanging loosely from his fingers.
He nodded once. “Come up, bro.”
Zane glanced at the narrow staircase off to the side - old wood, slightly warped, railing loose at the joints.
He made his way over and started up. Each step creaked under his weight, the whole thing shifting just enough to make him notice. He grabbed the railing halfway up, steadying himself before stepping onto the deck.
Bryce pushed himself off the railing to give him space.
“Better up here,” Bryce said, gesturing back toward the house. “Too much going on in that bitch.”
Zane stepped up beside him, resting his hands lightly on the railing, looking out over the backyard and the neighboring houses.
“Thought you would be in there,” Zane said, glancing sideways. “King of campus and all that shit.”
Bryce let out a short laugh. “Man, that shit get so old.”
He took a sip from his cup, then nodded toward the crowd inside, visible through the back windows. “Same conversations. Same people trying to impress you. Same stories.”
Zane smirked faintly. “Yeah, I get that.”
Bryce raised an eyebrow. “You do?”
Zane shrugged. “Obviously not like this. But back home? People start looking at you different. Like everything you do matters more than it should.:
Bryce nodded once. “Yeah.”
They stood there for a moment, both looking out.
Across the fence line, a group of students cut through the neighboring yard, laughing loudly. Somewhere down the block, another party spilled out onto the sidewalk, music clashing with the bass still thumping behind them.
Bryce shifted his weight, tapping the rim of his cup against the railing.
“That’s my bad,” he said after a beat. “For earlier.
Zane glanced at him. “What?”
“Dinner,” Bryce said. “Bringing up your pops like that.”
Zane shook his head immediately. “You didn’t know. It’s whatever.”
Bryce nodded, but didn’t look fully convinced. “Still, some of these dudes. They put on for literally no reason. I try to keep shit locked down, but…” he trailed off, shrugging.
Zane leaned forward slightly, resting more of his weight on his arms. “You gotta be that guy though.”
Bryce huffed out a small laugh. “Yeah. I guess so.”
He leaned back against the railing now, turning slightly toward Zane.
“Comes with it,” he added. “Especially being from here. Detroit kid, playing for Michigan. Comes with expectations.”
Zane nodded. “You handling that shit though.”
Bryce shrugged. “I just want to win. That’s all.”
The two fell quiet again, the sounds of the party filling the space between them.
After a moment, Bryce spoke again.
“Be real with me, lil’ bro,” he said. “Where you looking at?”
Zane glanced at him, hesitating.
Bryce held up a hand. “I ain’t gonna run back and tell Coach Moore. Don’t care if it ain’t here, either. I just want to see where your head at.”
Zane let out a slow breath, looking back out over the fence.
“I mean, Michigan makes a ton of sense for me,” he said. “It’s close enough while still getting to move out. My girl’s here. She’s got her whole thing going on already.”
Bryce nodded. “Aight.”
Zane continued, rubbing his hands together lightly. “The stadium’s fucking nuts too. Program’s huge. Everything is lined up.”
Bryce tilted his head slightly. “But?”
Zane gave a small, knowing smirk. “Yeah.”
He shifted his stance, eyes dropping to the ground below for a second before lifting again.
“A part of me just … don’t want that,” he said. “I’ve been in the same kind of environment my whole life. People know me. Know my situation. Feels like it’s already written out.”
Bryce stayed quiet, listening.
“Wherever I go,” Zane added, “that story follows me. My Dad. The bigger I get, the more people gonna talk about it.”
He tapped the railing lightly with his fingers.
“I just want somewhere calm,” he finished. “Start fresh.”
Bryce nodded slowly. “I respect that.”
He took another sip, then pointed his cup slightly toward Zane.
“Quiet can be good,” he said. “New place, new people. You get to be whoever you decide.”
Zane glanced at him.
“But,” Bryce added, “being somewhere people actually rock with you? Not just what you could be? That matter too.”
Zane didn’t respond, but his eyes stayed on Bryce.
“I seen your tape,” Bryce continued. “You get in the right system. You could go far. Like, league-far.”
Zane gave a small nod. “I appreciate that.”
Bryce pushed himself off the railing, turning back toward the yard.
“Where your girl at anyway? She around?” he asked casually.
The back door slammed open below them. Two voices spilled out, loud and laughing.
Zane leaned forward slightly, looking down. Katie stumbled out first, her wings slightly crooked, grabbing onto the railing to steady herself. Bianca followed close behind, one hand braced against the door as she stepped onto the patio.
Zane’s expression shifted. He straightened up slightly, eyes narrowing just a touch as he took them in.
Then he glanced at Bryce, a puzzled look crossing his face.
“That’s her.”
The two marched down the wooden stairs, creeping slowly as the foundation of the steps wobbled with even the slightest pressure.
The cold air lingered, mixing with the faint bass still leaking from inside. Katie and Bianca stood near the patio table, both leaning into each other, shoulders shaking as they laughed at something that clearly wasn’t that funny anymore.
They hadn’t noticed them.
Bryce cleared his throat lightly. “Yo.”
Both girls snapped their heads up.
Bianca’s smile froze first - eyes widening as she locked onto Zane.
Katie blinked once, then twice, squinting slightly before pointing. “Wait-” she leaned forward a little, trying to focus. “Aren’t you Bryce Underwood?”
Bryce gave a small nod. “Yeah.”
Katie’s face lit up immediately. “Holy shit,” she laughed, turning and grabbing Bianca’s arm. “He’s the fucking quarterback. The dude on all of the billboards.”
Bianca let out a soft, breathy laugh, but it didn’t quite land right. There was a slight delay to it, like she was catching up to the moment instead of being in it.
Zane and Bryce exchanged a quick look.
Bryce leaned in slightly, voice low. “They’re fried, nigga.”
Zane shot him a look, but his eyes drifted right back to Bianca.
Then he saw it. The sway in her stance. The way her focus slipped for half a second before locking back in.
Her eyes. He stepped forward.
“Bianca.”
She straightened a little at the sound of his voice, her smile softening. “Hey babe.”
Zane stopped a foot in front of her, studying her face.
“I missed you,” she added, quieter now.
Zane’s expression didn’t change. “Did you?”
She nodded quickly. “Yeah.”
He tilted his head slightly. “I’ve been looking for you all night.”
Bianca tried to hold his gaze this time. It didn’t last.
Her eyes flicked away for just a second - toward Katie, toward the ground - then back to him.
That’s when it clicked. Her pupils were blown wide. Her eyes glossy, like they couldn't quite settle.
Zane’s jaw tightened. “What are you on?” he asked, voice flat.
Bianca shook her head immediately. “Nothing.”
Zane didn’t look convinced. Not even a little. He glanced over at Katie.
She gave a small, loose shrug, leaning against the table. “Relax. It’s nothing bad.”
Zane’s eyes stayed on her.
“Just a little party favor,” she added, waving her hand like it was nothing.
Zane looked back at Bianca. She shifted her weight, arms crossing loosely over herself like she suddenly felt exposed.
“I’m fine,” she said, quieter now. Zane didn’t respond right away. He just looked at her.
“Don’t play me like I’m stupid, Bianca,” Zane spoke up, his voice hardened. Bianca winced, just enough for him to notice.
“Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t come and find you,” she tried to explain herself. “Things just got out of hand, and we partied a little too hard.”
“I’m not your parent, B,” Zane said, looking skyward to find the right words. None came, so he tried his best. “I don’t expect you to not experiment and do your own thing. I just want you to be safe.”
“Oh my god, cut the cord, Mom” Katie beckoned, a small laugh building in her throat. “If she wants to pop a pill or bump a line, she's well within her right, Zane.”
Zane didn’t even peek up to match Katie’s stare, his eyes still on Bianca. “Until she’s caught with the shit and catches a charge and gets thrown out of here, right?”
He looked up, Katie didn’t respond - one of the few times she bit her tongue. Combatting her best friend’s boyfriend while rolling on whatever they had taken clearly wasn’t worth ruining her high.
Bianca, on the other hand, had grown somber - if not sober. “This was a stupid thing to do, Zane, I’m so sorry.” she pleaded, the look in her eyes clearly seeking forgiveness.
Something in Zane softened, but he suddenly found himself exhausted. Between the events of the day, the meeting with the coaches and the other recruits, it suddenly had hit him that he had only flown in that morning.
He smoothed this hand over his face, taking a deep breath. His shoulders released a smidge. He eyed Bryce, who shrugged, sending him a knowing look.
“Man, can you make sure she gets home, alright?” Zane asked, motioning to Katie, who had returned to giggling to herself, the tension within her dissipating as quickly as it had formed. “I’m gonna go find my boy Cam and head back to our room.”
Bryce nodded, dapping Zane up and giving him an understanding nod. “It was nice to meet you, Zane, hopefully we get to ball together next year.” Zane nodded and threw one more look back at Katie, who was now peeing up to the towering Bryce as he beckoned her inside.
He gave a look to Bianca, never looking smaller next to him. She wrapped her arms around herself and cast her gaze down to the ground. She looked up only to catch Zane’s eyes before they entered the party.
“I hope we can move past this Zane, I won’t do anything this stupid ever again,” she said. “It’s not worth the risk.”
Zane nodded in understanding, wrapped his arm around her, and led her inside to find Cam. His feet ached, his back was sore, and his head had never felt more full.
The front door barely had time to close behind them before the noise swallowed everything.
Music blasted from somewhere deeper in the house - loud enough that the bass thumped through Zane’s chest. The living room was a wall of bodies, people packed tight, shoulders brushing, drinks sloshing as hands went up with the beat. Someone had dragged a speaker onto a coffee table, wires running across the floor like trip hazards nobody cared about.
Zane stepped in behind Bryce and a few of the Michigan players and recruits, his eyes moving fast, trying to take it all in.
This wasn’t like back home. Not event lose.
The houses in Upper St. Clair had space - big rooms, polished floors, people trying to act like they weren’t being watched. This was the opposite. Loud. Packed. Messy.
A girl bumped into him, laughing, not even looking back as she kept moving. Another squeezed past with a tray of drinks, sloshing amber liquid over the rims of plastic cups.
Cam leaned in close, practically yelling, “Bro, do you see this?”
Zane shook his head slightly. “Bro, I can’t see shit.”
And it was true. Everywhere he looked - faces, movement, flashes of costumes. Someone dressed like a pirate climbed onto a couch. Another guy in a referee shirt tried to keep balance while holding a full cup over his head.
Then the energy shifted. It was subtle at first - heads turning, people nudging each other - but it spread fast.
Eyes locked onto the group. That was until Zane realized the attention was more specifically targeted.
Bryce Underwood.
“Yo, QB1!”
Voices called out from different parts of the room. Phones came up. A couple guys pushed through the crowd just to dap him up as he passed. You could almost forget that he was a 19-year-old kid.
Bryce barely broke stride, nodding, smirking, completely used to it.
Zane felt the attention brush past him like heat, rolling off Bryce and onto everyone around him. For a second, it made his shoulders tighten.
Cam nudged him again, grinning wide. “Man, I’m in heaven.”
Zane snorted. “I still can’t see a goddamn thing. It’s like everyone that was in the stadium are in this house now.”
Before he could get another word out, one of the Michigan players looped an arm around his shoulders and shoved a red cup into his hand.
“Drink up, pussies!” the man shouted. “Welcome to the real Michigan experience!”
Another player handed Cam a cup, clapping him on the back. “Yall ‘croots gotta loosen the fuck up!”
Cam didn’t hesitate. “Say less,” he said, already lifting it.
Zane looked down at his cup - dark liquid sloshing near the top - then back up at the chaos around him.
“I’m good, y’all,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m just trying to find my girl.”
The man, his blonde hair perfectly cropped like he had gotten it done between the game finishing and showing up at the party, laughed like it was funniest thing he had heard all night.
“Your girl?” he leaned in, grinning. “Man, look at this rager - she’s probably got dick in her as we speak.”
A couple of the others laughed with him. Cam flashed Zane a look before going back to his cup.
“Don’t even worry about that,” another added, gesturing toward a group of girls across the room who were already looking their way. “We got tons of hoes ready to show hole for y’all as soon as you ask.”
Zane’s jaw tightened slightly. He shook his head again, more firmly this time.
“I’m good, thanks.”
He handed the cup off to someone passing by without even looking and stepped away from the group.
Cam hesitated, caught between following Zane and staying put.
One of the players threw an arm around Cam instead. “Your boy trippin’, man. You good though.”
Cam glanced at Zane disappearing into the crowd, then back at the group - and the girls.
“Yeah,” he said, a slow grin creeping onto his face. “I’m good.”
Zane pushed through the living room, slipping past shoulders and bodies, scanning every face he could catch.
No sign of Bianca. He checked his phone quickly. No new messages.
The house stretched deeper than he expected - hallways branching off, a staircase leading down, another set of stairs heading up. People moved in every direction, some dancing, some shouting over each other, some just leaning against walls watching it all unold.
Zane paused near the base of the stairs, eyes flicking between levels.
Upstairs. Downstairs.
He exhaled once, steadying himself. He turned and started moving again, deeper into the house.
***
The back door slammed shut behind him, the music dulling instantly as Zane stepped outside.
The air hit him first - cool, sharp, cutting through the heat that had been clinging to his skin inside. He exhaled, rolling his shoulders slightly as he stepped down onto the small patio.
It wasn’t much.
A patch of worn grass boxed in by a wooden fence, a couple of cheap plastic chairs scattered around a metal table that had seen better day. String lights hung loosely overhead, a few bulbs flickering. Beyond the fence, another house sat just as crowded, its own backyard packed with people moving under dim lights.
Zane took a few steps forward, scanning the space.
For a second, it looked empty. Then he caught movement to his right.
A couple pressed up against the fence, tangled together, kissing like they were trying to disappear into each other. The guy’s hands were already inside the girl’s pants.
Zane quickly looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “Word…”
“Yo.”
The voice came from above.
Zane looked up. Bryce leaned over the railing of a small second-floor deck, one arm draped over the wood, a red cup hanging loosely from his fingers.
He nodded once. “Come up, bro.”
Zane glanced at the narrow staircase off to the side - old wood, slightly warped, railing loose at the joints.
He made his way over and started up. Each step creaked under his weight, the whole thing shifting just enough to make him notice. He grabbed the railing halfway up, steadying himself before stepping onto the deck.
Bryce pushed himself off the railing to give him space.
“Better up here,” Bryce said, gesturing back toward the house. “Too much going on in that bitch.”
Zane stepped up beside him, resting his hands lightly on the railing, looking out over the backyard and the neighboring houses.
“Thought you would be in there,” Zane said, glancing sideways. “King of campus and all that shit.”
Bryce let out a short laugh. “Man, that shit get so old.”
He took a sip from his cup, then nodded toward the crowd inside, visible through the back windows. “Same conversations. Same people trying to impress you. Same stories.”
Zane smirked faintly. “Yeah, I get that.”
Bryce raised an eyebrow. “You do?”
Zane shrugged. “Obviously not like this. But back home? People start looking at you different. Like everything you do matters more than it should.:
Bryce nodded once. “Yeah.”
They stood there for a moment, both looking out.
Across the fence line, a group of students cut through the neighboring yard, laughing loudly. Somewhere down the block, another party spilled out onto the sidewalk, music clashing with the bass still thumping behind them.
Bryce shifted his weight, tapping the rim of his cup against the railing.
“That’s my bad,” he said after a beat. “For earlier.
Zane glanced at him. “What?”
“Dinner,” Bryce said. “Bringing up your pops like that.”
Zane shook his head immediately. “You didn’t know. It’s whatever.”
Bryce nodded, but didn’t look fully convinced. “Still, some of these dudes. They put on for literally no reason. I try to keep shit locked down, but…” he trailed off, shrugging.
Zane leaned forward slightly, resting more of his weight on his arms. “You gotta be that guy though.”
Bryce huffed out a small laugh. “Yeah. I guess so.”
He leaned back against the railing now, turning slightly toward Zane.
“Comes with it,” he added. “Especially being from here. Detroit kid, playing for Michigan. Comes with expectations.”
Zane nodded. “You handling that shit though.”
Bryce shrugged. “I just want to win. That’s all.”
The two fell quiet again, the sounds of the party filling the space between them.
After a moment, Bryce spoke again.
“Be real with me, lil’ bro,” he said. “Where you looking at?”
Zane glanced at him, hesitating.
Bryce held up a hand. “I ain’t gonna run back and tell Coach Moore. Don’t care if it ain’t here, either. I just want to see where your head at.”
Zane let out a slow breath, looking back out over the fence.
“I mean, Michigan makes a ton of sense for me,” he said. “It’s close enough while still getting to move out. My girl’s here. She’s got her whole thing going on already.”
Bryce nodded. “Aight.”
Zane continued, rubbing his hands together lightly. “The stadium’s fucking nuts too. Program’s huge. Everything is lined up.”
Bryce tilted his head slightly. “But?”
Zane gave a small, knowing smirk. “Yeah.”
He shifted his stance, eyes dropping to the ground below for a second before lifting again.
“A part of me just … don’t want that,” he said. “I’ve been in the same kind of environment my whole life. People know me. Know my situation. Feels like it’s already written out.”
Bryce stayed quiet, listening.
“Wherever I go,” Zane added, “that story follows me. My Dad. The bigger I get, the more people gonna talk about it.”
He tapped the railing lightly with his fingers.
“I just want somewhere calm,” he finished. “Start fresh.”
Bryce nodded slowly. “I respect that.”
He took another sip, then pointed his cup slightly toward Zane.
“Quiet can be good,” he said. “New place, new people. You get to be whoever you decide.”
Zane glanced at him.
“But,” Bryce added, “being somewhere people actually rock with you? Not just what you could be? That matter too.”
Zane didn’t respond, but his eyes stayed on Bryce.
“I seen your tape,” Bryce continued. “You get in the right system. You could go far. Like, league-far.”
Zane gave a small nod. “I appreciate that.”
Bryce pushed himself off the railing, turning back toward the yard.
“Where your girl at anyway? She around?” he asked casually.
The back door slammed open below them. Two voices spilled out, loud and laughing.
Zane leaned forward slightly, looking down. Katie stumbled out first, her wings slightly crooked, grabbing onto the railing to steady herself. Bianca followed close behind, one hand braced against the door as she stepped onto the patio.
Zane’s expression shifted. He straightened up slightly, eyes narrowing just a touch as he took them in.
Then he glanced at Bryce, a puzzled look crossing his face.
“That’s her.”
***
The two marched down the wooden stairs, creeping slowly as the foundation of the steps wobbled with even the slightest pressure.
The cold air lingered, mixing with the faint bass still leaking from inside. Katie and Bianca stood near the patio table, both leaning into each other, shoulders shaking as they laughed at something that clearly wasn’t that funny anymore.
They hadn’t noticed them.
Bryce cleared his throat lightly. “Yo.”
Both girls snapped their heads up.
Bianca’s smile froze first - eyes widening as she locked onto Zane.
Katie blinked once, then twice, squinting slightly before pointing. “Wait-” she leaned forward a little, trying to focus. “Aren’t you Bryce Underwood?”
Bryce gave a small nod. “Yeah.”
Katie’s face lit up immediately. “Holy shit,” she laughed, turning and grabbing Bianca’s arm. “He’s the fucking quarterback. The dude on all of the billboards.”
Bianca let out a soft, breathy laugh, but it didn’t quite land right. There was a slight delay to it, like she was catching up to the moment instead of being in it.
Zane and Bryce exchanged a quick look.
Bryce leaned in slightly, voice low. “They’re fried, nigga.”
Zane shot him a look, but his eyes drifted right back to Bianca.
Then he saw it. The sway in her stance. The way her focus slipped for half a second before locking back in.
Her eyes. He stepped forward.
“Bianca.”
She straightened a little at the sound of his voice, her smile softening. “Hey babe.”
Zane stopped a foot in front of her, studying her face.
“I missed you,” she added, quieter now.
Zane’s expression didn’t change. “Did you?”
She nodded quickly. “Yeah.”
He tilted his head slightly. “I’ve been looking for you all night.”
Bianca tried to hold his gaze this time. It didn’t last.
Her eyes flicked away for just a second - toward Katie, toward the ground - then back to him.
That’s when it clicked. Her pupils were blown wide. Her eyes glossy, like they couldn't quite settle.
Zane’s jaw tightened. “What are you on?” he asked, voice flat.
Bianca shook her head immediately. “Nothing.”
Zane didn’t look convinced. Not even a little. He glanced over at Katie.
She gave a small, loose shrug, leaning against the table. “Relax. It’s nothing bad.”
Zane’s eyes stayed on her.
“Just a little party favor,” she added, waving her hand like it was nothing.
Zane looked back at Bianca. She shifted her weight, arms crossing loosely over herself like she suddenly felt exposed.
“I’m fine,” she said, quieter now. Zane didn’t respond right away. He just looked at her.
“Don’t play me like I’m stupid, Bianca,” Zane spoke up, his voice hardened. Bianca winced, just enough for him to notice.
“Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t come and find you,” she tried to explain herself. “Things just got out of hand, and we partied a little too hard.”
“I’m not your parent, B,” Zane said, looking skyward to find the right words. None came, so he tried his best. “I don’t expect you to not experiment and do your own thing. I just want you to be safe.”
“Oh my god, cut the cord, Mom” Katie beckoned, a small laugh building in her throat. “If she wants to pop a pill or bump a line, she's well within her right, Zane.”
Zane didn’t even peek up to match Katie’s stare, his eyes still on Bianca. “Until she’s caught with the shit and catches a charge and gets thrown out of here, right?”
He looked up, Katie didn’t respond - one of the few times she bit her tongue. Combatting her best friend’s boyfriend while rolling on whatever they had taken clearly wasn’t worth ruining her high.
Bianca, on the other hand, had grown somber - if not sober. “This was a stupid thing to do, Zane, I’m so sorry.” she pleaded, the look in her eyes clearly seeking forgiveness.
Something in Zane softened, but he suddenly found himself exhausted. Between the events of the day, the meeting with the coaches and the other recruits, it suddenly had hit him that he had only flown in that morning.
He smoothed this hand over his face, taking a deep breath. His shoulders released a smidge. He eyed Bryce, who shrugged, sending him a knowing look.
“Man, can you make sure she gets home, alright?” Zane asked, motioning to Katie, who had returned to giggling to herself, the tension within her dissipating as quickly as it had formed. “I’m gonna go find my boy Cam and head back to our room.”
Bryce nodded, dapping Zane up and giving him an understanding nod. “It was nice to meet you, Zane, hopefully we get to ball together next year.” Zane nodded and threw one more look back at Katie, who was now peeing up to the towering Bryce as he beckoned her inside.
He gave a look to Bianca, never looking smaller next to him. She wrapped her arms around herself and cast her gaze down to the ground. She looked up only to catch Zane’s eyes before they entered the party.
“I hope we can move past this Zane, I won’t do anything this stupid ever again,” she said. “It’s not worth the risk.”
Zane nodded in understanding, wrapped his arm around her, and led her inside to find Cam. His feet ached, his back was sore, and his head had never felt more full.