Dare You to Hate Me by B. Celeste (classic fiction .txt) 📕

the news, Dad told me his drawn-out version of “I told you so” and Mom gave me a tight hug and told me everything would be okay.

Lindon U wanted me, even if their reputation was nothing like Wilson Reed’s was, and it was a start. A fresh one.

It took an entire semester of me ignoring most of the Dragons outside the field before Caleb managed to earn some of my trust. All it took was a simple “heard the Raiders are assholes anyway” to make me laugh, slap his hand, and agree to move in with a few of the others the following semester. DJ wormed his way in after that with his constant persistence, and everyone else on the team slowly followed in some form.

I may not be close with a lot of the guys, but they’re nothing like the Raiders—not threatened by competition or challenges. Coach Pearce may think that being selfish is how you get to your goals, but I couldn’t do it without my team backing me every game.

None of this may have been what I planned when I submitted my college applications in high school, but Lindon was where I needed to be. I just didn’t know how much until the day I saw Ivy again.

So, the only thing I really waited for was a chance to prove myself again—my talent, skill, and loyalty to the game.

Not Ivy.

I’d succumbed because I was tired of the missing feeling I’ve had in my chest for four years. Her body warming my bed, her soft breathing lulling me to sleep, and her fiery personality completely unapologetic is what fills the void that football never could.

I didn’t wait for her.

I waited because of her.

She left and I needed an outlet.

She left and I needed something.

And that was football.

It was a future.

Silence is all she’s awarded with when I creep out of bed with extra precision not to wake her. I could leave a note, send her a text, but I can’t put to words the feelings over what we’d done. Nothing I could write would be enough.

You waited.

I didn’t, and it’s hard to admit that when I’m not sure she’d understand. Because football means the world to me, and after everything she’s gone through the last thing I want is for her to feel second best.

But it’s all I can give right now.

I meant what I said.

I want her.

But I want football too.

And Ivy’s always done everything I’ve wanted to do until the day she made her own choice to leave. I’m not ready to watch her give up everything because of me. Not when she’s only just starting to see that she has a whole life in front of her to discover.

I knock on Coach Pearce’s door a few minutes earlier than when he asked me to come and catch his attention from the paperwork he’s looking over. It’s only when I see movement in the corner of the room that I realize he’s not alone. Chet Wilkins, formally two-time Superbowl winning New York Jets quarterback, is standing in a suit by the trophy case.

“Come on in, son,” Pearce says, pushing up from his desk. “I’m sure you know who this is, so I’ll skip the formalities. Wilkins and I go way back when I was a rookie for the Jets.”

I knew Pearce had some experience on a pro team. One season with them and he suffered a shattered ankle that ended his career.

Clearing my throat, I nod at Coach and look to his friend. “Hello, sir. Real nice to meet you. I’m a big fan.”

Chet Wilkins chuckles, walking over and stretching his hand to shake mine. “Likewise, Aiden. Bill here has been talking about you for some time. I’ve been keeping an eye out on your games. You’re one hell of a player.”

Hearing that from someone like him makes pride swell in my chest. I stand straighter and give him another nod, making him grin in amusement.

Coach Pearce intervenes. “Wilkins is a scout for the New York team these days. We’ve been talking for a while and it could be a route for you.”

I stop at the seat in front of his desk, dropping my bag onto it. “You mean the Buffalo Bills?”

Wilkins nods, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “I know a few people who are probably going to reach out shortly, so I wanted first dibs. Suppose that’s the plus side to dealing with this cranky asshole all these years.” His chin gestures toward Coach with a mischievous smirk on his face that only widens as Pearce grunts. “Heard Mass, Jersey, and a few others may be interested too. Wouldn’t surprise me if they try snatching you up with a hefty contract that some of the other teams can’t offer.”

Holy shit. “Mass as in New England?”

Pearce makes a noise. “What other one is there? Won’t lie, son. Might not be your best option in the long run. It’s obviously a strong team, but I think your talents could take a lesser one to the top. You’d be famous for making a name for someone else.”

“Or losing with the rest of them,” I refute, not seeing why he’d deter me from choosing if it ever called for a decision.

Wilkins laughs. “He’s not wrong, Bill.”

Coach Pearce scrubs his face with a palm and levels with me. “They drafted Jacob Mahone. Kid has the kind of stats that will make him the next Gronkowski if he plays the way he did for the Raiders.”

“Funny. I’ve been told the same thing.”

“I’m not saying it to piss you off,” he returns. “Stating facts, that’s all. With the big names leaving other teams, it opens up spots for your talent to shine. That’s all I’m getting at.”

“New York has talked about you extensively,” Wilkins tells me. “They’ve seen what you can do here and what you did at Wilson Reed. There’s no doubt you’ve got what it takes to take a team to championships like you’ve done