Business of Football
With the playoffs out of the way, Royce decided to make one last official visit before sitting down and deciding where his future would lie. Fortunately, it was the easiest trip for him to make, one that he’d made hundreds of times over the last year—a trip to LSU.
With UHigh’s campus sitting on LSU’s, Royce was familiar with the university and its surroundings. The people in charge of planning his visit’s itinerary knew as much as they kept the pomp and circumstance of a recruit’s visit to a minimum. There was no need for a tour of academic buildings, campus amenities and Mike the Tiger’s habitat when those were things Royce saw on a daily basis as a student at University Lab and resident of Baton Rouge.
All of that was only the tip of the iceberg in making this visit feel different from the ones to Alabama and Tennessee. Unlike those and other schools who were out to charm and entice him, LSU wasn’t there to impress him—they were there to prepare him.
Royce sat in a conference room in the school’s football operations center. The room was all glass and steel, its walls offering a view of Tiger Stadium. Royce sat between Tyrell, who tagged along as both mentor and moral support, and Coach Houston, whose confident smile was as much a fixture as the photos of the national championships lining the shelves.
The conversation jumped straight to business. No tour-heavy distractions. Just hard numbers.
“We think it’s realistic to project out $100,000 across your four years here. As a start,” Mrs. Bennett, an employee with LSU’s NIL collective, Bayou Traditions, said smoothly, sliding a folder across the desk to Royce. He opened it and skimmed the documents inside, feeling dizzy at the sight of the potential earnings breakdown. “That’s before talking about what you do on the field. If you’re starting… Well, you see the billboards on I-10. We love us a billboard here at LSU.”
Tyrell leaned back in his chair, calm and composed as he listened. Royce’s hands felt clammy on the armrests, his thoughts racing. He’d done a lot of talking with Malik and the others about NIL, but it was an entirely different thing to see the numbers on paper—numbers that were meant for his career.
Coach Houston’s voice cut through Royce’s daze. “We want you to know that you’re supported both on and off the field, Royce. We have the infrastructure and resources to equip you with all the tools that you need to succeed. But this is just the beginning.”
Natasha, another employee with the collective, stepped forward, carrying a laptop and a stack of glossy handouts. She was a polished woman in her mid-30s, dressed sharply in a purple dress. As she clicked through a presentation on the screen, Royce saw graphs, analytics, and photos of former Tigers who’d turned their collegiate fame into lucrative brands.
Royce’s eyes nearly popped out of his head at some of the figures, especially those for Livvy Dunne, numbers he could only dream of seeing in bank accounts.
“Royce,” she began. “We’ve been watching your progress for a while now. You’re already ahead of the curve. Your story resonates, especially locally. Let me show you.”
Royce leaned forward slightly, his gaze locking on a comparison chart displaying social media followings. There he was, right near the top, his numbers outpacing many other incoming freshmen. His jaw tightened in surprise.
“You’re not just a great athlete,” Natasha continued, her tone professional yet approachable. “you have the potential to be a brand. Your comeback from injury, your perseverance after losing your brother—it’s powerful. People want to root for you.”
Royce’s stomach flipped as she mentioned Romeo. The air felt heavier, his chest tighter. He forced himself to keep paying attention as a she flipped through the slides.
“We’ll handle the narrative with sensitivity,” she said softly, catching the shift in his expression. “We know how important this story is, not just for you but for everyone who’s been a part of your journey.”
A hand on his shoulder startled Royce for a second, but Tyrell’s calm presence ground him. Royce exhaled and nodded, though the lump in his throat remained.
Natasha paused briefly, giving him space to collect himself before continuing. “Your journey isn’t just inspirational; it’s marketable. People connect with authenticity, with perseverance. And with the platforms that we can build for you, you’ll not only control your narrative—you’ll profit from it.”
Her next slide outlined potential collaborations: sportswear endorsements, local business sponsorships.
“This isn’t just about the money,” she said, locking eyes with Royce. “It’s about building something that lasts. Your name, your story—they’ll resonate long after your time on the field.”
Royce nodded faintly, though the enormity of it all felt crushing. The numbers were surreal, the promises immense. This wasn’t just playing football anymore—it was entering an entirely different world. The stakes were higher, the rewards greater, but every dollar on the screen seemed to weigh heavier on his shoulders.
As Natasha wrapped up her presentation, Royce found himself glancing at Tyrell. His expression was steady, his posture relaxed, like he’d seen all this before. Royce wondered how Tyrell had carried the weight back then, when these types of meetings happened behind closed doors in smoke-filled rooms. And if he ever regretted not pushing further.
“I know it’s a lot to take in,” Natasha said, her tone gentle. “But you’ve earned this, Royce. You’re ready.”
He wanted to believe her but doubt lingered. Could he really shoulder all of this? Or would the weight of it all crush him before he even started?
…
By the time, they walked out of the final meeting, the sun was low on the horizon, casting long shadows over the campus. Royce paused near Tiger Stadium, staring up at the windows on the outside of the cathedral of football, where students once lived under the stadium—a piece of campus lore that every prospective student heard on their tours.
A smattering of students walked hill to and from the campus, hurrying to buildings with backpacks slung over their shoulders; other lingered in groups, laughing and chatting as if the world could wait.
He thought of his family back in Houma, an increasingly distant memory that laid the foundation for him getting to this moment. He thought of Romeo, of their games in the street and the way his brother always believed that Royce was just as capable of making it to this level as he was, even when Royce couldn’t believe it himself.
Tyrell stepped up alongside him, closing a folder filled with information that he’d been looking through. “That was something, huh?”
“Yeah,” Royce replied, still processing. He readjusted a backpack filled with swag on his shoulder, knickknacks given to him to try to get the deal over the line and get Royce in purple and gold.
Tyrell gave a knowing nod as he looked up at the stadium. “The memory’s real, but don’t let it change you,” he said, his voice serious now. “Remember why you started playing ball. It wasn’t just so you could paid. It definitely wasn’t to get paid at a college.”
Royce thought back to pickup games with Romeo, TPR, to playing on Fridays at both Terrebonne and UHigh. He shook his head. “Nah, it wasn’t just for that. I mean, I do want to get to the league. I think everyone in the hood wants to get drafted.”
“You right,” Tyrell laughed. He gestured to the campus. “But this doesn’t have to be about that. You can’t control that. You can just do what you can do and if they decide to call your name in a few years, that’s gravy. The minute you lose sight of what got you on that field though? That’s when you start fucking up that four-year plan.”
“Why it can’t be three?”
“Because you need a damn degree.”
Royce shook his head. “So, what do you think? What would you do?”
“I’d have my ass up there on the Bluff again. This is all fancy, but there is nothing like playing in Mumford and I’ll die on that hill,” Tyrell said. “But I know that you youngsters got a little different of a view on HBCUs. You’re not going there and driving around in a Urus that you bought with your NIL money.”
Royce nodded, glancing up the hill at LSU’s campus. “Alright then. What would you do if you were me and not thinking like an old head?”
Tyrell laughed. “I can’t tell you what to do for yourself, lil’ bro. You gotta make that decision on your own because you’re the one that’s going to have to live with it. Just know that your sisters’ are proud of you and I know Romeo would be, too.”
Royce didn’t answer, instead beginning to walk back to where they’d parked, the weight on his chest easing ever so slightly. The stately oak trees of LSU’s campus loomed large over him, just like his future.
Dying to Live
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Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16938
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
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djp73
- Posts: 13210
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42
Dying to Live
Nigh on 25 years and that feeling don’t leave. Never have that camaraderie again in your life.
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Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16938
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
Dying to Live
Wedding Bells
The venue was warm with candlelight, the air tingling with joy and anticipation as Rana walked down the aisle on Tyrell’s father’s arm, the man standing in for Kevon. Her gown sparkled like starlight, a perfect reflection of her radiant smile. Royce stood at the altar, chest swelling with pride in his groomsman’s suit. He had been nervous about the fit, but Tyrell had made sure the tailor got everything right.
Across the seat of faces, his eyes found Alix.
She was sitting off to the side, her deep blue cocktail dress catching the with every subtle movement. Her hair framed her face perfectly, and when she smiled at him, something inside him shifted. She didn’t have to say a word; the way she looked him said enough.
As the ceremony unfolded, Royce couldn’t stop stealing glances at her, taking in how she looked—even if he had to come out of his own pocket to buy the dress she wore. It was money well spent.
When Tyrell kissed Rana, sealing their vows, the crowd erupted in applause. Royce couldn’t help but grin. His sister looked happy, and for once, things felt right. One of the Lafitte children had made it to something resembling normalcy.
…
The reception was a blur of toasts, laughter and music, a celebration brimming with warmth and joy. Royce had started the evening way of the formalities, uncomfortable in the tailored suit and the unfamiliar territory of a wedding. But then there was Alix, her presence transforming everything.
For once, it was just the two of them, no whispered suspicions or sidelong glances, no need to pretend. Here, away from their usual walls, they could simply exist together.
When the DJ struck up a lively soul class, Royce extended his hand to Alix with a playful bow.
“You know how to dance?” she teased, skepticism and intrigue dancing in her eyes.
“I ain’t just watch YouTube videos about tying ties, and I was already light on my feet,” he replied with a cocky grin, his confidence exaggerated but charming. “But if we fuck up, I’m just gonna blame it on you not having no damn rhythm, white girl.”
Her laughter was answer enough, and she let him lead her to the dance floor.
The moment they started moving, Alix realized he hadn’t been bluffing. Royce guided her through spins and turns, her dress swirling like a sapphire whirlwind. His strong hands steadied her, his playful energy keeping pace with the music.
“You’re showing off,” she accused, breathless but beaming.
“Shit, yeah. I ain’t trying to be outdone by no 40-year-old men,” he admitted, spinning her again. “But you don’t seem to mind.”
She didn’t Not one bit. The joy on her face was infectious, and Royce found himself laughing more than he had in months.
As the tempo slowed, the DJ easing into Etta James’ “At Last,” Royce pulled Alix close. The mood shifted, their playful banter dissolving into something quieter. Her arms looped around his neck, and she nestled her head against his chest, the rhythm of the music matching the steady beat of his heart.
“I could get used to this,” she murmured, her voice barely audible over the song.
Royce tightened his hold, his chin resting lightly on her hair. He didn’t trust himself to speak, afraid he’d say something too reall, too vulnerable.
In those moments, with the world fading away around them, they could pretend—pretend they belong there, pretend they were just another young couple, nothing complicated about it.
The rest of the night unfolded in snapshots of happiness, each one etched into Royce’s mind. Despite his best efforts, Royce found himself settling into the flirty and playful banter with Alix, feeling as though it was right for him—for them. Her laugh, her smile, the better part of a year in a slow burning, haphazard, secret relationship coming out all at once.
When Rana prepared to toss her bouquet, the crowd gathered eagerly, arms raised and voices cheering. Alix and Royce stayed back, hovering near the edge of the crowd trying to stay out of the fray.
The bouquet arced high over the crowd, a perfect spiral and smacked Royce square in the chest. He froze for a moment, bouquet in hand before he tossed it back into the crowd, the room erupting in laughter as a woman caught it the second time.
Alix smacked him on the arm. “That’s not how that works. You don’t get to pass on being next.”
Her words hung between them, playful on the surface but carrying an unspoken weight. Royce didn’t reply, but his gaze lingered on her.
…
Later, after the reception had wound down and the newlyweds had left amidst a flurry of sparklers and cheers, the wedding party trickled back to the AirBnB Tyrell had rented for them. The main room buzzed with laughter and the clinking of glasses, old stories mixing with new ones as friends and family carried the celebration into the early hours. But Royce and Alix slipped away unnoticed, seeking refuge from the noise.
The Louisiana night wrapped around them like a soft, heavy blanket as they stepped onto the wraparound porch overlooking the Tchefuncte River and Lake Pontchartrain. The air was warm and fragrant, jasmine blooming in unseen corners, its scent mingling with the earthy smell of the swamplands. Crickets chirped in rhythmic harmony, joined occasionally by the low croak of a frog or the distant call of an owl. Fairy lights strung along the porch beams cast a soft, golden glow, their twinkle like stars pulled closer to Earth.
They found a secluded corner near the edge of the porch, where the voices from inside faded into a distant murmur. Alix leaned against the wooden railing, her finger idly tracing the grain of the wood. Royce stood beside her, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the soft glow of the lights.
“It’s so quiet out here,” Alix said, her voice cutting gently through the stillness. “It’s not like in Baton Rouge. Quiet there is only hearing one helicopter a night.”
“Yeah, it’s peaceful. Reminds me of being down the bayou,” Royce replied, slipping his hands into his pockets.
“This is down the bayou,” Alix laughed quietly.
They stood like that for a moment, the silence between them comfortable, until Alix’s shoulders sagged slightly. She let out a breath, her gaze fixed on the dark stretch of trees beyond the porch.
“I’m scared,” she said softly, the words catching in the humid air.
Royce turned to her, his brows knitting in concern. “Of what?”
“You know what, Royce. This,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She hesitated, her eyes flicking to his before darting away again. “If we keep pushing this, then that’s exactly what I’ve been trying to avoid. And with everything being so… uncertain with college coming up, everything, it feels like anything more is destined to fail.”
Her vulnerability caught Royce off guard, but he stepped closer, his hand finding hers where it rested on the railing. He laced their fingers together, his thumb brushing gently over her knuckles.
“Alix,” he began, his voice low but steady. “You know I ain’t asking you for nothing. I like being around you. I think you like being around me. I ain’t Miss Cleo so I don’t know what the future looks like. I don’t know how to do more than this anymore than you do. I want you in my future, though, but right now, I just want tonight to be tonight.’
Alix blinked, her eyes shimmering under the fairy lights. Her lips curved into the faintest of smiles as she nodded, leaning into him. Royce wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her against him.
They talked softly, their words blending into the night. Royce told her about his looming college decision, of proving to himself and everyone else that he could make it. Alix spoke of her desire to travel, to see the world beyond the familiar edges of their lives. They imagined a future together—half-serious, half-dreaming—filed with the little moments of normalcy they didn’t dare promise but long for all the same.
As the night depends, words gave way to something more tangible, Royce tilted her chin up with gentle fingers, their lips meeting in a kiss that started soft but grew in intensity, each one building on the last. The weight of everything unsaid pressed between them, not as a barrier but as something binding, something that made every touch more meaningful.
They found their way to Royce’s room, the house quiet around them save for the occasional creak of the old wooden floorboards. This time was different. Slow. More deliberate. Every kiss, every caress felt like a step closer to something neither of them could fully name but both understood deeply.
Afterward, they lay tangled in the sheets, moonlight pooling on the bed like liquid silver. Alix traced lazy circles on Royce’s chest with her finger, her head resting in the crook of his arm.
“Wouldn’t it be great if we could just start fresh?” she murmured, her voice soft against his skin. “No more hiding. No more worrying about what people think.”
Royce stared up at the ceiling, her words pressing against the walls he’d built around his heart. He wanted it—more than anything, he wanted that kind of freedom with her.
“I want that,” he said finally, his voice thick with emotion. He turned his head to look at her, his hand threading through her hair. “I want everything with you.”
Alix smiled, leaning up to kiss him again, the taste of hope lingering between them.
…
As dawn approached, they found themselves back on the porch steps, surrounded by the remnants of the night. The air still carried traces of jasmine, but it was cooler now, softened by the early morning breeze. Around them, the celebration had surrendered to sleep—quested sprawled on sofas inside or curled up in their rooms, the occasional snore breaking the quiet. Extinguished sparklers lay scattered across the wooden boards, their burned-out tips like fallen stars. Somewhere in the distance, the chirp of morning birds began to replace the crickets’ nighttime symphony.
Alix dozed against Royce’s shoulder, her breath slow and steady, her warmth grounding him in the moment. He rested his cheek lightly against her hair, taking in the scent of her shampoo mingling with the night’s fading sweetness. The horizon stretched before them, shifting from deep indigo to soft pink, the first rays of sunlight touching the tops of the trees with a golden hue, spilling across the water in sparkles.
Royce’s thoughts were heavy yet calm, a rare mix of certainty and unease. He didn’t know what the future held—whether they could escape the weight of expectations, secrets and the paths they hadn’t chosen but still had to walk. But he knew this night had changed something between them. It wasn’t just the quiet promises whispered under fairy lights or the way they’d fight together in the moonlit room. It was the way her presence steadied him, how being with her made everything else seem less daunting, if only for a while.
Some nights weren’t meant to be forgotten, he thought. They lingered in the folds of memory, their full weight revealing itself only in the clarity of hindsight. Maybe it would be months, maybe years, but Royce knew that when he looked back, this night would stand out—a turning point.
As the sky brightened, soft oranges blending with pinks, Royce tightened his arm around Alix, pulling her closer as she stirred but didn’t wake. HE let himself breathe in the quiet magic of the moment, holding on to it as tightly as he dared.
The venue was warm with candlelight, the air tingling with joy and anticipation as Rana walked down the aisle on Tyrell’s father’s arm, the man standing in for Kevon. Her gown sparkled like starlight, a perfect reflection of her radiant smile. Royce stood at the altar, chest swelling with pride in his groomsman’s suit. He had been nervous about the fit, but Tyrell had made sure the tailor got everything right.
Across the seat of faces, his eyes found Alix.
She was sitting off to the side, her deep blue cocktail dress catching the with every subtle movement. Her hair framed her face perfectly, and when she smiled at him, something inside him shifted. She didn’t have to say a word; the way she looked him said enough.
As the ceremony unfolded, Royce couldn’t stop stealing glances at her, taking in how she looked—even if he had to come out of his own pocket to buy the dress she wore. It was money well spent.
When Tyrell kissed Rana, sealing their vows, the crowd erupted in applause. Royce couldn’t help but grin. His sister looked happy, and for once, things felt right. One of the Lafitte children had made it to something resembling normalcy.
…
The reception was a blur of toasts, laughter and music, a celebration brimming with warmth and joy. Royce had started the evening way of the formalities, uncomfortable in the tailored suit and the unfamiliar territory of a wedding. But then there was Alix, her presence transforming everything.
For once, it was just the two of them, no whispered suspicions or sidelong glances, no need to pretend. Here, away from their usual walls, they could simply exist together.
When the DJ struck up a lively soul class, Royce extended his hand to Alix with a playful bow.
“You know how to dance?” she teased, skepticism and intrigue dancing in her eyes.
“I ain’t just watch YouTube videos about tying ties, and I was already light on my feet,” he replied with a cocky grin, his confidence exaggerated but charming. “But if we fuck up, I’m just gonna blame it on you not having no damn rhythm, white girl.”
Her laughter was answer enough, and she let him lead her to the dance floor.
The moment they started moving, Alix realized he hadn’t been bluffing. Royce guided her through spins and turns, her dress swirling like a sapphire whirlwind. His strong hands steadied her, his playful energy keeping pace with the music.
“You’re showing off,” she accused, breathless but beaming.
“Shit, yeah. I ain’t trying to be outdone by no 40-year-old men,” he admitted, spinning her again. “But you don’t seem to mind.”
She didn’t Not one bit. The joy on her face was infectious, and Royce found himself laughing more than he had in months.
As the tempo slowed, the DJ easing into Etta James’ “At Last,” Royce pulled Alix close. The mood shifted, their playful banter dissolving into something quieter. Her arms looped around his neck, and she nestled her head against his chest, the rhythm of the music matching the steady beat of his heart.
“I could get used to this,” she murmured, her voice barely audible over the song.
Royce tightened his hold, his chin resting lightly on her hair. He didn’t trust himself to speak, afraid he’d say something too reall, too vulnerable.
In those moments, with the world fading away around them, they could pretend—pretend they belong there, pretend they were just another young couple, nothing complicated about it.
The rest of the night unfolded in snapshots of happiness, each one etched into Royce’s mind. Despite his best efforts, Royce found himself settling into the flirty and playful banter with Alix, feeling as though it was right for him—for them. Her laugh, her smile, the better part of a year in a slow burning, haphazard, secret relationship coming out all at once.
When Rana prepared to toss her bouquet, the crowd gathered eagerly, arms raised and voices cheering. Alix and Royce stayed back, hovering near the edge of the crowd trying to stay out of the fray.
The bouquet arced high over the crowd, a perfect spiral and smacked Royce square in the chest. He froze for a moment, bouquet in hand before he tossed it back into the crowd, the room erupting in laughter as a woman caught it the second time.
Alix smacked him on the arm. “That’s not how that works. You don’t get to pass on being next.”
Her words hung between them, playful on the surface but carrying an unspoken weight. Royce didn’t reply, but his gaze lingered on her.
…
Later, after the reception had wound down and the newlyweds had left amidst a flurry of sparklers and cheers, the wedding party trickled back to the AirBnB Tyrell had rented for them. The main room buzzed with laughter and the clinking of glasses, old stories mixing with new ones as friends and family carried the celebration into the early hours. But Royce and Alix slipped away unnoticed, seeking refuge from the noise.
The Louisiana night wrapped around them like a soft, heavy blanket as they stepped onto the wraparound porch overlooking the Tchefuncte River and Lake Pontchartrain. The air was warm and fragrant, jasmine blooming in unseen corners, its scent mingling with the earthy smell of the swamplands. Crickets chirped in rhythmic harmony, joined occasionally by the low croak of a frog or the distant call of an owl. Fairy lights strung along the porch beams cast a soft, golden glow, their twinkle like stars pulled closer to Earth.
They found a secluded corner near the edge of the porch, where the voices from inside faded into a distant murmur. Alix leaned against the wooden railing, her finger idly tracing the grain of the wood. Royce stood beside her, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the soft glow of the lights.
“It’s so quiet out here,” Alix said, her voice cutting gently through the stillness. “It’s not like in Baton Rouge. Quiet there is only hearing one helicopter a night.”
“Yeah, it’s peaceful. Reminds me of being down the bayou,” Royce replied, slipping his hands into his pockets.
“This is down the bayou,” Alix laughed quietly.
They stood like that for a moment, the silence between them comfortable, until Alix’s shoulders sagged slightly. She let out a breath, her gaze fixed on the dark stretch of trees beyond the porch.
“I’m scared,” she said softly, the words catching in the humid air.
Royce turned to her, his brows knitting in concern. “Of what?”
“You know what, Royce. This,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She hesitated, her eyes flicking to his before darting away again. “If we keep pushing this, then that’s exactly what I’ve been trying to avoid. And with everything being so… uncertain with college coming up, everything, it feels like anything more is destined to fail.”
Her vulnerability caught Royce off guard, but he stepped closer, his hand finding hers where it rested on the railing. He laced their fingers together, his thumb brushing gently over her knuckles.
“Alix,” he began, his voice low but steady. “You know I ain’t asking you for nothing. I like being around you. I think you like being around me. I ain’t Miss Cleo so I don’t know what the future looks like. I don’t know how to do more than this anymore than you do. I want you in my future, though, but right now, I just want tonight to be tonight.’
Alix blinked, her eyes shimmering under the fairy lights. Her lips curved into the faintest of smiles as she nodded, leaning into him. Royce wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her against him.
They talked softly, their words blending into the night. Royce told her about his looming college decision, of proving to himself and everyone else that he could make it. Alix spoke of her desire to travel, to see the world beyond the familiar edges of their lives. They imagined a future together—half-serious, half-dreaming—filed with the little moments of normalcy they didn’t dare promise but long for all the same.
As the night depends, words gave way to something more tangible, Royce tilted her chin up with gentle fingers, their lips meeting in a kiss that started soft but grew in intensity, each one building on the last. The weight of everything unsaid pressed between them, not as a barrier but as something binding, something that made every touch more meaningful.
They found their way to Royce’s room, the house quiet around them save for the occasional creak of the old wooden floorboards. This time was different. Slow. More deliberate. Every kiss, every caress felt like a step closer to something neither of them could fully name but both understood deeply.
Afterward, they lay tangled in the sheets, moonlight pooling on the bed like liquid silver. Alix traced lazy circles on Royce’s chest with her finger, her head resting in the crook of his arm.
“Wouldn’t it be great if we could just start fresh?” she murmured, her voice soft against his skin. “No more hiding. No more worrying about what people think.”
Royce stared up at the ceiling, her words pressing against the walls he’d built around his heart. He wanted it—more than anything, he wanted that kind of freedom with her.
“I want that,” he said finally, his voice thick with emotion. He turned his head to look at her, his hand threading through her hair. “I want everything with you.”
Alix smiled, leaning up to kiss him again, the taste of hope lingering between them.
…
As dawn approached, they found themselves back on the porch steps, surrounded by the remnants of the night. The air still carried traces of jasmine, but it was cooler now, softened by the early morning breeze. Around them, the celebration had surrendered to sleep—quested sprawled on sofas inside or curled up in their rooms, the occasional snore breaking the quiet. Extinguished sparklers lay scattered across the wooden boards, their burned-out tips like fallen stars. Somewhere in the distance, the chirp of morning birds began to replace the crickets’ nighttime symphony.
Alix dozed against Royce’s shoulder, her breath slow and steady, her warmth grounding him in the moment. He rested his cheek lightly against her hair, taking in the scent of her shampoo mingling with the night’s fading sweetness. The horizon stretched before them, shifting from deep indigo to soft pink, the first rays of sunlight touching the tops of the trees with a golden hue, spilling across the water in sparkles.
Royce’s thoughts were heavy yet calm, a rare mix of certainty and unease. He didn’t know what the future held—whether they could escape the weight of expectations, secrets and the paths they hadn’t chosen but still had to walk. But he knew this night had changed something between them. It wasn’t just the quiet promises whispered under fairy lights or the way they’d fight together in the moonlit room. It was the way her presence steadied him, how being with her made everything else seem less daunting, if only for a while.
Some nights weren’t meant to be forgotten, he thought. They lingered in the folds of memory, their full weight revealing itself only in the clarity of hindsight. Maybe it would be months, maybe years, but Royce knew that when he looked back, this night would stand out—a turning point.
As the sky brightened, soft oranges blending with pinks, Royce tightened his arm around Alix, pulling her closer as she stirred but didn’t wake. HE let himself breathe in the quiet magic of the moment, holding on to it as tightly as he dared.
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Soapy
- Posts: 16766
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 18:42
Dying to Live
lost the playoffs, lost his bitches, needed his daddy to handle his business.
that's a real baton rouge nigga right there
that's a real baton rouge nigga right there
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Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16938
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
-
Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16938
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
Dying to Live
Moving Forward, Not On
Britni sat at the kitchen table, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her parents stood on either side of her, their faces etched with worry. The tension in the room was almost unbearable, but Britni wasn’t backing down.
“I’ve already made my decision. I’ve already applied and been accepted,” she said, her voice firm but shaking just a little. “I’m going to LSU, just like we planned.”
Her mother sighed. “Britni, we just think it might be better for you to stay closer to home. Nicholls is a good school—”
“I can’t stay here!” Britni snapped, standing abruptly. Her chair scraped against the tile floor. “Every street in this town reminds me of him. Every place I go, I see him, I hear him. I need to get out, Mama. I need to live the life that me and Romeo dreamed about. I’m going to go crazy if I don’t.”
Her father cleared his throat, his voice gentle but firm. “Brit, we’re just worried about you. With everything you’ve been through…”
“I’m not—I’m not bro… I have to do this. I have to,” she said, her voice quieter now but no less resolute. “Romeo wouldn’t want me to waste my life. He’d want me to go for it. And we always talked about schools like LSU—about being together in college. I can’t let him down.”
Her mother exchanged a glance with her father, who finally nodded. “Okay,” he said. “But if it ever gets to be too much—”
“It won’t,” Britni interrupted. “I’m going to be okay. I have to be.”
She turned and left the room before they could say more, her chest tight but her resolve unshaken.
~~~~~~~~~~
Arianna and Toni sat shoulder to shoulder in front of a laptop, scrolling through listings for apartments in Lafayette.
“This one’s cute,” Arianna said, pointing at a cozy two-bedroom with white walls and lots of windows. “And it’s only five minutes from campus. We could walk there since neither one of us got a damn car.”
Toni squinted at the screen. “We’re going to go look at that because those walls look thin as fuck. I don’t want to hear your ass when you’re up in there fucking some dude you met in class.”
“Bitch,” Arianna shot back, feigning. “We’re going to ULL because your boyfriend is going there. If anyone has to worry about hearing someone taking dick, it’s me. Deshawn look like the type who make too much noise, too.”
“Sound like you mad you ain’t getting none from nobody. Better look long and hard at orientation for you a couple dudes.”
“Oh, I’m looking for long and hard, alright.”
They burst into laughter, their lighthearted banter easing the tension that came with such a big transition.
“You think we’re going to be able to survive living together? I mean, for real. Nothing gets people to hate each other faster than being roommates.” Toni said.
“We family, though. It’s not like we’re two random bitches being put in a small ass dorm room together,’ Arianna said, shrugging.
“You right.”
Arianna looked up from the laptop. “We just have to lay down some ground rules like don’t have your ass up in my pecan candy if I drive back down here to get some from the candy lady on PC.”
“As long as you stay out my sweet potato pies,” Toni said, rolling her eyes.
“Ain’t nobody want your nasty ass sweet potato pies,” Arianna laughed.
As they continued scrolling, the weight of the charge ahead lingered beneath their playful conversation. Both of them knew that moving to Lafayette, starting at ULL, and being on their own would be a challenge—but it was a step they were ready to take together.
~~~~~~~~~~
Royce, Malik, Donovan, Justin and Dru sat outside of the Blue Store, taking in one of Baton Rouge’s most beloved restaurants together one last time before they all went their separate ways at colleges across the country.
“All I’m saying is that the bitches in Reno are finer than the bitches in motherfucking Kalamazoo,” Donovan said, pulling apart a chicken wing.
Royce raised an eyebrow. “The only bad bitches in Reno that’s going to fuck with your dusty ass are the ones at them brothels. Hope you got your money ready because I heard them bitches expensive as fuck.”
Malik tapped Justin on the shoulder and pointed to Royce. “We see he waiting to make a decision because he trying to find out what city got the best hoes. He gone from church girls to prostitutes.”
“Boy, fuck you. I ain’t gotta pay for no pussy,” Royce shot back.
“But it don’t even make no sense to be comparing Kalamazoo to anywhere. The motherfuckers offered me a scholarship and I took it,” Dru said. “As long as they like niggas then I should be alright.”
“Do they?” Justin asked, laughing.
“More than they do in Troy fucking Alabama.”
The group exchanged glances with each other before nodding and starting to laugh, Dru’s point being much more sound.
~~~~~~~~~~
That evening, Royce drove alone to Houma. The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky painted in deep purples and oranges. He parked his car at the cemetery and stepped out, carrying a framed #2 jersey under his arm, in crimson and gold.
He walked slowly, the crunch of gravel under his feet the only sound in the quiet evening. Romeo’s grave, marked by a simple headstone, stood out among the older graves, but Royce didn’t need anything elaborate to feel his brother’s presence.
Kneeling down, he placed the jersey beside the headstone, his hands lingering on the frame.
“Am I my brother’s keeper?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yes, I am. Yes, I am.”
The words hung in the air, just like they had before every game. Royce swallowed hard, his throat tight as he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.
“I miss you, man,” he said, his voice breaking. “Every day. But I’m gonna keep pushing, keep shining, just like we said. I’m gonna make you proud.”
He sat there for a few minutes longer, the cool night air brushing against his skin. Finally, he stood, brushing off his knees and looking down at the jersey one last time.
“I love you, Rome,” he said quietly before turning and walking back to his car. As he drove away, the framed jersey remained, a silent testament to the bond that would never be broken.
Britni sat at the kitchen table, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her parents stood on either side of her, their faces etched with worry. The tension in the room was almost unbearable, but Britni wasn’t backing down.
“I’ve already made my decision. I’ve already applied and been accepted,” she said, her voice firm but shaking just a little. “I’m going to LSU, just like we planned.”
Her mother sighed. “Britni, we just think it might be better for you to stay closer to home. Nicholls is a good school—”
“I can’t stay here!” Britni snapped, standing abruptly. Her chair scraped against the tile floor. “Every street in this town reminds me of him. Every place I go, I see him, I hear him. I need to get out, Mama. I need to live the life that me and Romeo dreamed about. I’m going to go crazy if I don’t.”
Her father cleared his throat, his voice gentle but firm. “Brit, we’re just worried about you. With everything you’ve been through…”
“I’m not—I’m not bro… I have to do this. I have to,” she said, her voice quieter now but no less resolute. “Romeo wouldn’t want me to waste my life. He’d want me to go for it. And we always talked about schools like LSU—about being together in college. I can’t let him down.”
Her mother exchanged a glance with her father, who finally nodded. “Okay,” he said. “But if it ever gets to be too much—”
“It won’t,” Britni interrupted. “I’m going to be okay. I have to be.”
She turned and left the room before they could say more, her chest tight but her resolve unshaken.
~~~~~~~~~~
Arianna and Toni sat shoulder to shoulder in front of a laptop, scrolling through listings for apartments in Lafayette.
“This one’s cute,” Arianna said, pointing at a cozy two-bedroom with white walls and lots of windows. “And it’s only five minutes from campus. We could walk there since neither one of us got a damn car.”
Toni squinted at the screen. “We’re going to go look at that because those walls look thin as fuck. I don’t want to hear your ass when you’re up in there fucking some dude you met in class.”
“Bitch,” Arianna shot back, feigning. “We’re going to ULL because your boyfriend is going there. If anyone has to worry about hearing someone taking dick, it’s me. Deshawn look like the type who make too much noise, too.”
“Sound like you mad you ain’t getting none from nobody. Better look long and hard at orientation for you a couple dudes.”
“Oh, I’m looking for long and hard, alright.”
They burst into laughter, their lighthearted banter easing the tension that came with such a big transition.
“You think we’re going to be able to survive living together? I mean, for real. Nothing gets people to hate each other faster than being roommates.” Toni said.
“We family, though. It’s not like we’re two random bitches being put in a small ass dorm room together,’ Arianna said, shrugging.
“You right.”
Arianna looked up from the laptop. “We just have to lay down some ground rules like don’t have your ass up in my pecan candy if I drive back down here to get some from the candy lady on PC.”
“As long as you stay out my sweet potato pies,” Toni said, rolling her eyes.
“Ain’t nobody want your nasty ass sweet potato pies,” Arianna laughed.
As they continued scrolling, the weight of the charge ahead lingered beneath their playful conversation. Both of them knew that moving to Lafayette, starting at ULL, and being on their own would be a challenge—but it was a step they were ready to take together.
~~~~~~~~~~
Royce, Malik, Donovan, Justin and Dru sat outside of the Blue Store, taking in one of Baton Rouge’s most beloved restaurants together one last time before they all went their separate ways at colleges across the country.
“All I’m saying is that the bitches in Reno are finer than the bitches in motherfucking Kalamazoo,” Donovan said, pulling apart a chicken wing.
Royce raised an eyebrow. “The only bad bitches in Reno that’s going to fuck with your dusty ass are the ones at them brothels. Hope you got your money ready because I heard them bitches expensive as fuck.”
Malik tapped Justin on the shoulder and pointed to Royce. “We see he waiting to make a decision because he trying to find out what city got the best hoes. He gone from church girls to prostitutes.”
“Boy, fuck you. I ain’t gotta pay for no pussy,” Royce shot back.
“But it don’t even make no sense to be comparing Kalamazoo to anywhere. The motherfuckers offered me a scholarship and I took it,” Dru said. “As long as they like niggas then I should be alright.”
“Do they?” Justin asked, laughing.
“More than they do in Troy fucking Alabama.”
The group exchanged glances with each other before nodding and starting to laugh, Dru’s point being much more sound.
~~~~~~~~~~
That evening, Royce drove alone to Houma. The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky painted in deep purples and oranges. He parked his car at the cemetery and stepped out, carrying a framed #2 jersey under his arm, in crimson and gold.
He walked slowly, the crunch of gravel under his feet the only sound in the quiet evening. Romeo’s grave, marked by a simple headstone, stood out among the older graves, but Royce didn’t need anything elaborate to feel his brother’s presence.
Kneeling down, he placed the jersey beside the headstone, his hands lingering on the frame.
“Am I my brother’s keeper?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yes, I am. Yes, I am.”
The words hung in the air, just like they had before every game. Royce swallowed hard, his throat tight as he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.
“I miss you, man,” he said, his voice breaking. “Every day. But I’m gonna keep pushing, keep shining, just like we said. I’m gonna make you proud.”
He sat there for a few minutes longer, the cool night air brushing against his skin. Finally, he stood, brushing off his knees and looking down at the jersey one last time.
“I love you, Rome,” he said quietly before turning and walking back to his car. As he drove away, the framed jersey remained, a silent testament to the bond that would never be broken.
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Soapy
- Posts: 16766
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 18:42
Dying to Live
bitches is plural. alix just hanging on for an NIL package from all three of the goofy niggas she got on a string
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Captain Canada
- Posts: 7932
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Dying to Live
Damn, the high school arc is more or less done. We confirmed to LSU? Britni going to stab you day one.
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Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16938
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
Dying to Live
Vic ain't no ballplayer and Alix started messing with Royce when he was hobbled. #slander
2 p.m. CST.Captain Canada wrote: ↑24 Nov 2024, 11:29Damn, the high school arc is more or less done. We confirmed to LSU? Britni going to stab you day one.
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Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16938
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47