Page 5 of Campus Muscle

There it was, the moment I had been waiting for: Ass-kissing.

“I’d like to take a moment to thank one of our newest and most generous supporters, Mr. Frank Delaney!”

There was a polite swell of applause, and I couldn’t help but look. My gaze drifted to Pine and followed his arm as he gestured toward the sideline. A man in his fifties stood just off the field, and he was dressed far too well for the setting we were in. His hair was shaved into clean-cut lines, his jacket was clearly tailored, and he had the kind of presence that didn’t need to be loud to be noticed. He acknowledged the applause with a small, confident nod.

“The guy looks like he bought the whole damn school,” Lucas said, and his tone instantly gave away his disgust.

“Wouldn’t be surprised if he did,” Ethan said, trying to sound unaffected. “Pine’s sure acting like it.”

I didn’t respond, but I kept my eyes on Delaney for a moment longer. There was something about the man’s stillness that kept my attention on him, but I forced myself to look away when Pine finally wrapped up his announcements.

“Let’s get going!” someone in the crowd said as he was waving them off.

Suddenly, we all snapped back into motion. I adjusted my gloves and flexed my fingers while I took a step back toward the bench. My moment hadn’t come yet, but I was happy to sit on the sideline and learn from my lead because I needed all the help I could get.

The whistle blew, and the game started. It was so much faster than I had expected. The Pilgrims came out with an aggressive air about them. Their offense was sharp and coordinated in a way that put immediate pressure on our defense. It only took them a few minutes to break through and get themselves an early score. It caused the crowd’s energy to dip just enough for it to be noticeable.

“Come on!” Lucas snapped. “Settle in, guys!”

We finally pushed back as our offense found its rhythm in bursts, but the Pilgrims held us just long enough to keep control. Every drive felt like it had the potential to shift the game, but then something happened to shatter that fantasy. I tracked everything from the opening and closing gaps to the way Dylan cut through the line and the timing of the blocks. I could see where it worked and where it didn’t, and of course where there was space that wasn’t being used. My leg jolted but quickly stilled.

“You need to relax,” Malik said in the most soothing voice I had ever heard.

“I’m okay.”

He gave me a look that had more value than words. It said, “Stop bullshitting yourself,” and I honestly couldn’t argue with it. I liked analyzing things, but this seemed to have a really prominent effect on me. I leaned back slightly, forcing myself to take deep, even breaths. I knew my role. I was supposed to be Dylan’s support, and I was supposed to do it from the bench. That meant I constantly needed to know where the game was heading so I could stay ready and wait to play my part.

The first half wore on with tension building with every possession. We closed the gap and then fell behind again with the scoreline shifting just enough to keep it frustrating. And by the time the clock wound down to halftime, the air felt heavier.

“Last push!” Coach shouted from the sidelines. “Let’s go!”

The ball snapped, and the play developed quickly. Dylan cut to the right, and the line held just long enough to give him space. A defender broke through late, and he was moving faster than expected. He closed the distance with such force that my stomach twisted. The collision was loud, with pads cracking together and bodies folding into each other.

Dylan went down hard, and the ball slipped loose as he bit the turf. Everything seemed to have stopped. No one moved, and no sound escaped until a sharp, urgent blow came from the whistle. I immediately got to my feet, knowing that he was in trouble.

“Dylan!” someone shouted.

The trainers rushed in with Tara moving faster than anyone else. As soon as she reached him, she dropped to one knee, but Dylan didn’t get up. My jaw tightened.

“Prescott,” Coach said, his voice cutting through the fog that was clouding my mind. “You’re in!”

The words landed clearly, leaving no room for hesitation. My pulse kicked, and it was sharp and immediate. My body was already moving. Before I realized it, my helmet was on, strapped tightly, and my gloves had already been adjusted. This was it. It was my moment, the one I had been fearing and praying for since I signed up. I jogged onto the field, and the noise around me instantly lifted. It rose in a way that felt different now that I was actually a part of it.

Ethan met me near the line, and his eyes were steady. “Are you good?”

I nodded. “I’ve got this.”

“You need to run hard and trust the line.”

“I hear you.”

We broke and lined up as the play call came in. I settled into position, and the world narrowed to the field in front of me. The defenders quickly read the formation and shifted accordingly. The line adjusted too, and everything clicked into place. The ball snapped. I took it cleanly, pivoting left before cutting back through the gap that opened just long enough.

A defender lunged and caught the edge of my shoulder, but I dove forward. My legs pumped as I pushed through the contact and the first marker flashed past. The crowd reacted instantly, but the sound only hit me after the play ended. I handed the ball back because the game was already resetting and our next play started. I tried to do the same thing again, but it wasn’t so easy.

This time the gap closed faster, which forced me to adjust mid-step. I cut right, slipping past one defender before another came in low. The impact drove into my legs, but I twisted and pushed for a few extra yards before going down. I got up immediately, took a steady breath, and moved forward. Drive by drive, our rhythm was building.

The hesitation from the first half started to fade, and it was replaced by something sharper, more controlled. The line held longer, and the plays connected. The Pilgrims adjusted their defense, but they couldn’t do it fast enough. That didn’t bother me all that much, though. I didn’t think about the score or the crowd. My focus was on the yard in front of me and then the one after that.