Matched By My Rival by DJ Jamison
3
PARKER
Our strength and conditioning coach, Martinez, waved us in after training the next morning, brandishing a sign-up sheet. We gathered around him, the smell of sweat permeating the air. Nothing we weren’t used to, with four days of strength and conditioning workouts a week. Still, there was restless shuffling, and I imagined most the guys were eager to rinse off the sweat and grab something to eat before we spent the next few hours in class.
“Holmes was nice enough to compile a list of all the on-campus volunteer opportunities available for you guys,” he said. There was a collective groan, and he nodded his head, a smirk curling his lips. “That’s right. Coach Jackson wasn’t blowing hot air. You will all be signing up for a minimum of five hours per week.”
“How am I supposed to keep up with my study hall hours and do this?” Harding grumbled. He was a big guy, broad, heavy-set, strong as an ox. Whenever I looked at him, my ribs hurt. Even when he tried to hold back—injuries in practice were the last thing any of us wanted—a tackle from Harding was like getting hit by a runaway train.
“Harding, I know you’re not whining to me right now,” Martinez said, a note of warning in his tone. “You all found time to get drunk and turn up to your first drill of the spring season in sorry-ass shape. You only have yourselves to blame.”
“Not all of us,” someone else mumbled, but Martinez’s quelling look shut them up.
I stepped forward. “Show me where to sign up.”
Martinez clapped my shoulder as he handed me the clipboard with a pen attached. “Good man. Sign your name by the volunteer opportunity of your choice. But be quick about it. Everyone needs to sign up before anyone leaves here today. We will be verifying you follow through, too, Harding. So make sure you find time for your study hall hours and this. Last I checked, you had weekends open.”
I skimmed the list. I didn’t really care what I did, but I wanted it to be something suitable. I bypassed the study center volunteer gig. I got enough of that place as it was. I also bypassed the athletic center opportunities—mostly for helping with events. The other guys would jump all over those, but I wanted a break from sports.
My eyes landed on a handful of frat-led charities. I scanned them until I saw a familiar one. The project beside it read: House Pledge. Home repairs and upgrades for Hayworth residents in need. Construction skill appreciated but not required.
As I signed my name, Darnell peered over my shoulder. “Wait, isn’t that Simon’s frat?”
“Is it?” I asked innocently, as if I didn’t know very well that it was.
“Man, do you have a death wish?” Darnell asked, taking the clipboard as I handed it over and signing up for one of the athletic event volunteer slots. “You know he hates you, right?”
I winced. “It’s mostly a misunderstanding.”
Darnell handed off the clipboard to someone else, but he wasn’t done with me. Lowering his voice, he said, “Look, Simon’s my boy, but we both know he blames you for losing his place on the team. If I were you, I wouldn’t be getting on any ladders when he’s nearby. You feel me?”
My gut clenched. Maybe it wasn’t too late to change my choice. I glanced over at the clipboard being passed around. An uncomfortable buzzing under my skin stopped me from trying, though. I didn’t like Simon Prentiss hating me. I didn’t like that he believed I’d wanted any of this. Because I didn’t.
Not the top receiver ranking on the field, with all the attention it brought. Not the girl, who I’d only intended to be a friend.
And I sure as hell never wanted Simon to lose football.
Maybe Simon would always hate me, but I signed up for his frat’s charity project because I wanted him to know…
I never meant to ruin his life.
* * *
SIMON
When I got back to the frat after classes Thursday afternoon, some of the guys were hanging in the game room and shooting the shit while they played Madden on Xbox. I peeked in, even though I really needed to hit the books before my extra shift started at Tracks. I was in for eight hours when I usually endured only five, and unlike Rhett, I rarely managed to flirt enough for decent tips.
Still, at least the job was off campus. It allowed me to escape for a few hours and forget all about football and failure.
“Hey, wanna jump in?” Linc had noticed me loitering outside the room. He raised his controller. “I should head out.”
“Nah, I’ve had enough football to last a lifetime.”
Not quite true. I still ached, a great gaping hole inside where my passion for football had always resided. But I couldn’t let anyone see that. It made me feel too pathetic, the grief that welled up when I thought about what I’d lost.
“Sorry, man. We can switch the game.”
“That’s okay. I have to work tonight anyway.”
Cooper, our de facto leader now that the frat president had graduated, set his remote aside. “You got a minute to talk?”
“Sure.” I followed Cooper a few feet down the hallway. “What’s up?”
He stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked on his feet, a sure sign he was nervous. “I’d like to visit Trace this weekend. He’s driven up the last three weeks, and he has a life of his own, you know? I want to give back a little.”
“Yeah, sure. That must be tough.”
I couldn’t imagine maintaining that kind of long-distance relationship. Cooper’s guy lived about a six-hour drive from Hayworth. He and Cooper had connected when he’d come up for an alumni speech. The fact he was an old friend of the dean—Cooper’s dad—couldn’t make their relationship easy either. They kept going strong, though, always willing to make the sacrifices to stay together.
“The thing is, House Pledge needs the most supervision on the weekends,” Cooper continued. “So that makes it hard for me to get away.”
I nodded. House Pledge was a charity project that Cooper had started on behalf of the frat. It’d helped the fraternity compete for funds, which had in turn allowed them to create a scholarship and save my ass. In other words, I loved the hell out of House Pledge.
“You want me to help you out?”
Cooper exhaled. “Would you? I know you’ve got your hands full with a job too. I hate to ask too much—”
“It’s cool. I wouldn’t even be here without the frat’s generosity.”
“Nah, it’s not like that,” Cooper said with an emphatic head shake. “You’re not beholden to us or anything. We barely made a dent in your tuition.”
“You gave me a free room too,” I pointed out. “It was a huge help. I don’t mind repaying the favor a little.”
I hadn’t always given one hundred percent to the frat, and they’d been pretty cool about understanding I was an athlete first and a frat brother second. But my brothers had my back when my life went to hell. They had my full loyalty now. Whatever they needed, I was their man.
“Well, like I said, you don’t owe us anything, but if you think you can swing it, I’d really appreciate it. Now that we’ve got actual grants, we especially have to take the work seriously,” Cooper said. “We’ve got a budget and a timeline and outside volunteers coming in. Lincoln has been helping out with some of the paperwork, but he’s young, and I don’t think anyone will really listen to him.”
“Yeah, sure. I’m at the work site every weekend anyway. I can step up, no problem.”
“That’s a huge load off my mind. Thanks.”
“Anytime. I know that long-distance shit can’t be easy.”
Cooper smiled wryly. “We barely know any different, but yeah, it sucks balls.” He laughed. “I’m so psyched to go to him, though. His house is super nice. He has this huge bed, and this whirlpool tub that can fit us both—”
“TMI, dude.”
He laughed. “Right, yeah. Sorry.”
“I better head up and change for work,” I said. “If I don’t see you, drive safe.”
“Yeah, I will. Thanks.”
“No prob. Bring Trace to Tracks next time he’s in town,” I said, surprising myself. I’d never been the friendliest guy, and I’d set new dickhead records over the past few months. But I liked Cooper, and seeing him with Trace might give me the guts to pursue something with a guy of my own. “The bartender might slip you a couple of free drinks.”
Cooper grinned. “Hell yeah. What good is a boyfriend if he can’t carry your drunk ass home, right?”