For the fans, p.5
For The Fans, page 5
Twenty-five. Twenty-six.
My mind is clear while I focus on the hurt. The pain of the weight I’m holding…
It feels good. The ache is like a companion, a comforting presence that strokes my hair and whispers to me.
You’re so strong.
There’s nothing you couldn’t rip apart with your bare hands.
Garrison, who’s spotting me, says thirty, then helps me guide the bar back into the uprights, before I’m even done.
I would’ve kept going… But I guess thirty reps of this much weight is more than you’re normally supposed to do.
Weaklings. Give me more. I can take it.
Sitting up slowly, I wipe sweat from my brow while Garrison slaps me on the shoulder.
“Nice work, killa,” he rumbles his support.
“Fuckin’ show-off,” my friend Marcus says with a smirk from across the room.
He’s only doing one-fifty. I guess he doesn’t need pain the way I do…
Grabbing my towel, I sling it around my neck, getting up and stretching my arms over my head. I sip some water, glancing around the weight room at my teammates. I’m going to miss this…
College football will be similar, but also different. I’ll have to get used to all new players. Form bonds of camaraderie with new dudes.
Playing for the Eagles will be intense, but honestly, I’m looking forward to it. The football field has always been the place where I shine. I play because I’m good at it, but also because I need it. Football is the biggest part of my image.
“So, Ky…” Garrison says my name, and I peer at him. “You break up with Becca yet?”
A few of the guys laugh. And my chin dips. “No…”
“Come on, man.” He chuckles. “You gotta rip that shit off like a Band-Aid.”
“It’s gonna be so damn awkward.” I run my fingers through sweaty strands of my hair. “She’s going to Emerson… It would be like, really easy for me to stay with her.”
“But you don’t want to…?” Marcus blinks up at me from where he’s sitting on the weight bench.
“Uh, no.” I roll my eyes. “I mean, Becca’s cool and all, but BC will be a sea of new pussy.”
“You got that right.” Mack, one of my other teammates, grins wickedly. “And QB of the Eagles is guaranteed to have you drowning in it.”
I shove off the smile that wants to curve my mouth. “If I get QB…”
“Bro… you’re gonna get it.” Garrison slaps my arm. “Manifest destiny, homie.”
I can’t help the amusement on my face that leads me to chuckle.
“Man, what the fuck are you talking about?!” Marcus cackles at him.
“It’s a thing! I’m telling you!” Garrison defends himself.
He’s always been the hippy of the group.
“And, not to mention that Lexi is going to BC…” Mack shoots me another devious look.
“Hm…” I nod along, not really knowing how to react to that.
Lexi Erikson is this girl who lives in Everett. She’s fuckhot, and sometimes shows up at parties in Somerville, at which point all the guys drool over her, stalking around her like a bunch of territorial lions looking to mate with the only lioness.
I didn’t know Lexi had gotten accepted to BC. We follow each other on Instagram, but we’ve never really talked much. She cheers in Everett… Maybe she’ll cheer for the Eagles.
My fuzzy mind springs back to Becca, and my stomach starts flopping, bringing on a wave of nausea. I need to just break up with her, but it’ll be hard. We’ve been together for a while at this point. We’ve said the I love you words, although for me they were just that. Words.
I think she actually meant them.
My mind is stuck on this while we all make our way into the showers, the guys still laughing, joking and fucking around in the background of my internal dilemma. If I could love someone, I’m sure it should be Becca. On paper, she’s perfect for me. Beautiful, smart, similar background… My dad likes her.
But I just don’t feel it. I don’t know what love feels like. And at my age, I’m a little worried that I’ve never felt something more than a basic shell of attraction to any girl. Most of the guys I know either have girlfriends, or have been through relationships where they say they were in love, even if they try to be macho and downplay it. Still, it’s obvious they felt something for these girls…
But not me. My chest is hollow any time I think about love. Like a simple circle; an outline, with no solid substance to fill me up.
I might be broken… And the thought brings on a scratchy sensation, crawling up my esophagus like claws.
Moving in front of the mirror, I stare at myself for a second, willing down panic I can’t display in front of these guys. Fingers digging into the counter, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. When I reopen them, I lock eyes with myself.
You’re here. This is you.
More laughter tugs me out of it as all the guys strut around naked behind me. Swallowing still feels thick, but I push through the discomfort, just like when I’m lifting, and I join them.
I’ve always made it a point to move quickly in the locker room showers. It’s not exactly a place you wanna get caught lingering anyway. I’m obviously pretty comfortable with my body and all, but I’ll admit, sometimes the nonchalance of showering next to a bunch of other naked dudes feels tense.
Nothing to dwell on. Lather, rinse, and move it along.
When I’m done with my two-minute shower, I hop out and get dressed. And it’s while this is happening that I make a decision. I need to go find Becca and end it. It’s the right thing to do.
Like Garr said, rip off the Band-Aid.
I think she’s still here, at school. She’s on the Graduation Committee, and they’ve been meeting pretty much every day after school since graduation is only a couple of weeks away. Nodding to the guys, I stuff down the impending doom of how she’s going to take this and storm out of the locker room.
Outside of the cafeteria, where they usually have the Grad Committee meetings, I pace for a few jittery seconds, before taking a deep breath and pushing through the doors. I spot the group of them, sitting at a table, chatting. But I notice right away that Becca isn’t there.
A few of the kids look up as I approach, and I give them a polite smile. “Hey, guys.”
“Kyran… Hi,” Julie chirps, shooting me this sort of wide-eyed look that has my brows zipping together for a moment.
“Is Bec here?” I look around.
“Uh… no.” She peeks at Josh by her side. “She went to get her charger.”
“Her charger…” I repeat, eyeing them and wondering why they’re acting so shifty.
“With Ash,” Josh says, and Julie elbows him.
“With Ash?” I narrow my gaze.
They’re both just staring at me, nodding. A pit is forming in my stomach, but I ignore it, muttering, “Thanks,” while I spin and stomp away, back toward the doors.
“I’m sure she’ll be right back!” Julie shouts after me, but I’m not listening.
I’m going to find my girlfriend. Right now.
Stalking the halls, I’m tense. The charger story is obviously bullshit, because the halls are empty and she’s not at her locker. I check every room, frantically searching while my mind spins and spins, until finally, I hear voices coming from the music room.
Peeking through the small window in the door, I spot Becca, and Ash. They’re just talking, and my shoulders drop, a relieved chuckle puffing as I shake my head. I can’t believe I just started panicking over nothing.
Nope… Not nothing.
Ash leans in, smiling while pressing a slow kiss on my girlfriend’s lips. Her hand runs up onto his jaw, fingers threading in his shaggy black hair as she kisses him back. Like she wants it.
She’s not pushing him away… They’re just standing there, out in the fucking open, making out like she doesn’t have a care in the world or a goddamn boyfriend who’s looking for her so he can break her heart.
My jaw strains as I reach for the door handle, ready to whip it open and storm inside to kick that loser prick’s ass.
But I pause. And my hand falls by my side.
“Fuck it…” I mutter to myself, turning away.
Of course I’m pissed that my girlfriend of almost two years is making out with another dude. But I guess in a way she’s doing me a favor.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I type a quick text to Bec.
Me: We’re over.
And that’s it. It’s done.
If she doesn’t have the respect to talk to me first before just hooking up with another guy, then I sure as fuck don’t respect her enough to end it face to face.
Still, I’m sort of fuming as I head outside to my car.
Really, Bec? Ash Holloway??
He’s so not her type at all. He plays guitar, wears ripped jeans and paints his nails black. Dumbass emo nerd. He reminds me of…
My fingers curl into a fist at my side. Goddamnit.
I drive the ten minutes home in silence, stewing in my awful mood. I know I’m being childish… I was going to break up with her, anyway. But still, if she could hook up with that clown in school, where anyone could see them, then I’m guessing this wasn’t the first time they’ve done that, which means that bitch was cheating on me.
While I’ve been passing up advances from other girls this whole time—from some of her best friends even—she’s just out here… kissing Brandon Bruce fucking Lee.
Bullshit.
Pulling into our driveway, I slam on the brakes and growl out loud. There’s a Jeep in my spot. Motherfucking stoner fuckhead…
I dive out of the car and storm into the house, fuming. The moment I’m through the door, I’m shouting, “Avi! You’re in my fucking spot again!”
I don’t see anyone, but I hear laughter coming from the back deck. So that’s the direction I’m stomping next while my frustrations bubble over. At the sliding door, I pay no attention to what’s happening out there. I just bark, “Avi. My fucking spot, you assface! You parked in it again. I thought I told you—”
“Ky.” My dad cuts off my tirade with a scolding tone. “Watch your mouth. And stop yelling at your brother. It’s his birthday.”
My teeth crumble to bits as I mumble, “He’s not my brother…”
Avi grins at me from where they’re all sitting around the outside table. “Thanks for the birthday wishes, bro. You’re the best.”
Looking around, I take in the decorations, smell the food grilling… The giant birthday cake on the marble island in the kitchen.
Naturally, I forgot that today is my stepbrother’s eighteenth birthday. Because I don’t fucking care. But now that I’m being presented with the information again, I slightly recall my father telling me we were having a family barbecue to celebrate.
Awesome. Could this day get any worse??
“Kyran, come sit.” Hannah pats the seat next to her. “There’s salad and some snacks. The rest of the food will be ready soon.”
She smiles kindly at me, and I exhale, allowing myself to relax just a tad. My stepmother is actually really nice, which makes holding on to all this hostility toward the new family dynamic just the tiniest bit difficult. I know it would make things easier if I just got over it and tried making a little more effort to get along with them… After all, it’s been a while.
My dad married Hannah last September. It was a small ceremony in Narraganset. No church—duh. Just us and a couple of my father’s friends. I guess the few members of the Vega family that Hannah and Avi still communicate with couldn’t make it. But then again, my sister didn’t show up either.
I’m glad it was small and casual. I really didn’t have it in me to do the whole wedding thing. It was bad enough standing up there with Avi… Him next to his mom, and me next to my dad. He would wink at me, and I would scowl in return. It’s been like this since they moved in, and the wedding changed nothing.
Avi and I don’t get along. We’re too different, and he annoys the ever-loving shit out of me. All he does is smoke weed and draw crazy pictures. He eats everything in the house, parks in my spot, and when he isn’t popping off sarcastic comments my way, he’s rambling about all of these half-cocked conspiracy theories he apparently believes to be fact.
The dude is weird as fuck, but more than all of that, just looking at his stupid face reminds me of how much more pleasant my father is when he and his mother are around. The amount of furious resentment I harbor feels unhealthy, but I can’t help it. My dad hasn’t laughed or joked with me since I was ten years old. He only speaks to me about superficial shit; football, school, and the bare necessities of a strictly business father-son relationship.
It’s been this way ever since… since the last time I tried to talk to him about something, and it tore our entire family apart. And I know he blames me for all of it. So I never get the Thomas Harbor that Hannah and Avi get.
He jokes around with Avi, gives him advice, offers to help him with things. All stuff he would never even consider doing for me, and for that reason more than all the other bullshit, I fucking hate Avi Vega.
My stepbrother… God, it still pisses me off, even eight months later.
I can’t wait to leave. I’m chomping at the bit to get out of this house and go live on the BC campus. It’s my escape from this fake family, and most importantly, from Avi and his knowing smiles. Something about him flashing those little grins all the time just makes me feel murderous. Another reason why it’s a good thing I’m moving out soon.
I don’t think I could make it to Christmas without smothering him to death.
Reluctantly, and not hiding it, I take a seat next to Hannah at the table while she fixes me a plate of salad. My dad smiles, but of course not at me. At his wife.
He lifts a bottle of beer to his lips and takes a sip.
Avi nudges his arm. “You think I could get one of those?” He aims a pleading smirk at my father. “You know… since I’m an adult now and everything.”
“Avi.” Hannah rolls her eyes, grinning.
My dad squints at Avi, but then he sighs and shrugs. “Sure, why not. Just one.”
“Thanks, Tom.” Avi scoots out his chair, winking at me.
Why the fuck he always does that is beyond me, but it’s enraging. That’s probably why does it.
Avi goes over to the mini fridge, pulling out a bottle.
“Can I have one?” I ask, needing the alcohol to help subdue my irritation.
“You’re still seventeen,” my father says pointedly.
“Only for a few more months…” I grunt, feeling like such a child, it stiffens me with irritation. “And last I checked, the drinking age is twenty-one, not eighteen.”
I shoot a fake smile at Avi, and he returns it. But he takes out a second bottle, not waiting for my father to give his approval before he’s stepping over and handing it to me.
My dad doesn’t look pleased, but Hannah jumps in. “I’m sure they’ll be drinking beer in college, Tom. Better they learn to do it responsibly.”
I pause before opening the bottle, watching my father carefully. He concedes with a curt smile at his wife, and I’m fucking frothing with rage just beneath my surface.
If they only knew how he really is… He would never allow vices before they showed up. Once when he found Marcus’s cigarette butt outside on the walkway, he screamed at me for so long he nearly lost his voice.
But Avi is allowed to fishbowl his bedroom like he’s backstage at a Kid Cudi concert. It’s fucking ridiculous.
Twisting open the bottle aggressively, I take a long sip, ignoring the rest of them. Their conversing continues while we eat dinner. The burgers, hot dogs, and grilled chicken are accompanied by chitchatting about my dad’s business and how excited they are over his recent signing of some fancy new developer. The money is just rolling in right now, and I know this is all a preface to him insisting that I choose Business as my major at BC.
Football is all well and good for now, but I’m fully aware he expects me to follow in his footsteps and take over the family business, which I have no intention of doing.
So help me, I’ll make it to the NFL just so I don’t have to.
“So, Ky.” Hannah says my name, and when I glance at her, I can tell from her expression that she knows I don’t want to talk about the business stuff. I have to appreciate her trying to keep the peace between Dad and me. That is, until she asks, “How are things going with Becca?”
Avoiding answering, I take a large pull from my bottle of beer. Oh, would you look at that? It’s already empty…
Picking at the label, I murmur, “We broke up.”
“Oh… I’m sorry to hear that,” she responds, sincerely.
“Kyran, that’s a shame,” my dad says, sounding much less concerned for me than he sounds disappointed in me. “She was a good girl. And you know, there’s nothing wrong with starting college in a relationship. It might even give you some perspective—”
“She cheated on me,” I cut him off, glaring across the table. His face falls as he gawks uncomfortably. My head tilts. “You still think I should have stuck it out?”
He says nothing, just gets up to grab himself another beer. None for me… Thanks, Pops.
“That’s awful, Ky.” Hannah covers my hand with hers on the table. It startles me, and I glimpse at her, shocked by the contact. “You deserve better.”
A scoff comes from the other side of the table, and my face snaps in Avi’s direction. He’s sipping from his bottle, smirk intact.
“What’s your problem?” I squint at him.
He finishes his slow swallow, eyes set on mine. “Nothing. I’m sure you didn’t deserve to be cheated on.”
“Avi!” Hannah scolds.
“I’m just saying…” he goes on with an indifferent shrug. “Karma’s a bitch. Treat other people like shit and it eventually comes back to you.”
“You sound like a moron,” I grumble.
“Boys,” my dad huffs, shaking his head. “Can’t we have one family dinner where you two aren’t at each other’s throats the whole time?? It’s getting really old.”
