Page 58 of Campus Muscle

Before that, I was in heaven and then, without warning, she’d shoved me right into hell.

I tried to drown out the hollow sensation in my chest with practice, game tapes, and the constant noise of the team, but it kept pushing back in. Reminding me how she’d just disappeared.

She wasn’t on the sidelines scribbling notes, and her questions didn’t cut across our drills. No hateful looks during practice, or snarky comments about how I was making her job harder than it had to be. I hadn’t seen or heard from her since the gym, and that should’ve made things easier, but it didn’t.

“Prescott!”

I blinked, dragging myself back to the present, and saw that Coach was pointing me into position. The field in Bangor stretched under the lights, and the air was colder than I’d expected. It had just enough of a bite to keep me alert and focused.

Across from us, the Eagles had lined up in a tight formation that left no room for error. They were one of those teams that had the guys whispering theories, and it showed. But with the amount of adrenaline I had pumping through my system, they didn’t stand a chance.

I loosened my shoulders and stretched my arms, then settled in. The ball launched neatly and hit Ethan’s hands. A beat later they were in mine, so I tucked it in and drove left, reading the line as it shifted. A linebacker slipped through early, and I was forced to plant hard before cutting inside and slipping past the reach of his arm so I could sprint upfield.

The contact came in fast.

A shoulder clipped my hip, and another defender wrapped high, but I kept my legs moving just long enough to push through the resistance until the whistle cut it short.

First down. I cursed under my breath as I handed off the ball. I didn’t look or pay too much attention to the other team, just kept my focus on myself and my guys while jogging back. My breath was steady, and my focus dialed in. I was in the zone, exactly where I wanted to be, throwing everything I felt into winning the game.

For the next play, Ethan called it quick. There was a short pass to the right, which Lucas took. He pivoted and got wrapped up almost immediately with minimal gain. The third was more manageable. I crouched and let my gaze flicker across their defensive line. That was when I realized they had already adjusted, reading our patterns and shifting their weight accordingly. Which was good because I had done the same.

The ball was hiked, and it was as smooth as could be. Ethan faked the handoff before pulling in two defenders and giving me a chance to slip in behind the movement. Then I angled to the right. The pass came low and fast, and I caught it just above the turf, then turned upfield in one motion. A defender closed in from the side, but I didn’t slow. Instead, I dipped my shoulder, took the hit, spun it off, and kept moving. First down.

“Let’s go!” Lucas shouted as he jogged past me.

I was already busy resetting, so just nodded. The drive built steadily. There was nothing too flashy, just movement and precision. It was the kind of rhythm that had a tendency to wear the defense down piece by piece. It was a game I could get the hang of, instead of just pushing the same useless moves over and over again. This was fun and unpredictable. It was enough to earn us that win if we continued the right way. Ethan was inside the red zone when he called a run. I stepped into position with a steady heart and loose legs.

This was it, and I was ready. We had found our rhythm and it could only go up from this point, especially with the amount of tension I was trying to get rid of. We had another exchange, and I took the handoff before hitting the gap hard. The line held just long enough for me to slip through, but the space closed too fast. A defender met me head-on and his arms locked around my torso, but I drove forward anyway.

Two more bodies joined in, but I just leaned down and kept pushing, using all my force to get to where I wanted to be. I pressed for every inch I could get and kept doing it until the pile shifted just enough. The whistle blew, letting me know we had earned a touchdown. The guys started letting go, but I still couldn’t breathe, but that was mostly because the score still hadn’t registered properly. I wanted it to be real so badly, but I was too afraid to see that it might’ve just been my imagination.

I rose slowly as the noise rolled over me, but I couldn’t celebrate. Not with the way my mind kept going back to the woman who should’ve seen this. So I just handed the ball off and walked back to my position while the moment settled where it needed to be. But something blossomed beneath everything else.

That was control, and it felt fucking great. Exactly what I needed to get back on track.

For the second quarter, the Eagles adjusted their play. They tightened their lines and closed the gaps even faster. They were forcing us to work harder for every yard, and it worked. When I took the handoff, I barely made it past the line before I got dragged into the next play. A screen pass got blown up before it even had time to develop.

“Stay patient,” Ethan said in the huddle.

I nodded, and we adapted. We had quick routes and even faster releases. The ball was moving in short bursts instead of being forced into big plays. Then an opening came, and Ethan’s voice was sharp as he called it at the line. I shifted wide, and the snap landed. The fake went left, and I took the pitch right before sprinting for the edge. A defender cut across at a tight angle. He was out to get me, but I was ready for it. I slowed my pace just enough to sell the inside step, and then I cut hard to the sideline.

The defender over-committed and missed, opening the field for us to take the lead. I pushed forward with my legs driving and the sideline blurring past me. Another defender dove low, but I lifted my stride and cleared it without breaking my rhythm. The end zone came in fast, and I crossed the line clean. The air rushed from my lungs as the reaction hit me before I could shut it out. Touchdown.

It was the noise coming from the crowd and my teammates closing in around me that really let me feel it. A vibration that crashed through my defenses and shot all the way into my soul. Unlike any form of pride I had ever felt, so I let it in for just a second and then I stepped back out of it.

By the second half, the Eagles were scrambling. Their defense had lost shape under the pressure and became reactive instead of anticipating our movements. I saw it in the way they lined up and in the hesitation that crept into their movements. Of course, I used it to my advantage. Every carry turned into something more, and small openings stretched into real gains while missed tackles became opportunities. Midway through the third, Ethan called a play that split the defense right in half. I hit the line fast and slipped through a gap that barely existed, then I broke into the second level.

A defender closed in from the right, but I cut left. My movements were honed and sudden, causing him to lose his balance. It was such a thrill, but I couldn’t let it get the better of me. Another player came in from behind, but it was already too late. My lungs burned as I pushed even harder, but my legs held steady, and the end zone opened up again. I crossed it without slowing, and by the time the game settled into a solid lead for our side, my breath was rushing out. Unable to catch up with what I had lost, I rested my hands on my hips and just let my body slow into its regular rhythm.

The final whistle blew, and I looked up to see that the scoreboard was firmly tilted in our favor. I stood near the sideline with my helmet dangling from my fingers and sweat cooling against my skin. This was it. Thanks to my effort and hard work, we’d won.

It took so long for me to process it that the noise had slowly thinned. My teammates had moved in around me, and they were laughing as they replayed the moments out loud. Some of them, like Connor, didn’t want it to end, and I couldn’t blame them. This wasn’t something any of us were used to, and it felt fucking great.

“You were all over the place tonight,” Ethan said as he stepped up next to me.

I shrugged. “The line held.”

“You still had to run it.”