And with that parting message, she closes her door and drives off, leaving me with my thoughts.
40
RAWLEY
When Landon and I arrive at the Waves’ facility for our first day of training camp, the buzz of my adrenaline helps push away the lingering sadness from my situation with Avery.
One of the hardest parts of the last few days has been cutting off contact. I’m so used to talking to her every day. But it’s not doing me a lick of good to dwell.
Even though she says she wants to be friends, I’m not putting myself out there first. And I’m not sure I’m ready for that anyway. She doesn’t seem to be either from her silence, so I can just keep punting the decision.
“Grab your stuff,” Landon says as he stops the engine in the parking lot.
Stop thinking about her. The hurt is going to be there, but you have to ignore it for a while.
I’m in the fucking NFL. This is it. Training camp marks the true beginning.
When we come out on the other side, most of the cuts to get down to the fifty-three-man roster will be made, and I should be confirmed again as a starter.
“So fucking ready for this,” Landon says, his voice matching my energy.
“Your fourth one,” I respond. “It’s got to get old being locked up for three weeks with everyone?”
He chuckles. “Talk to me in a few days and I might answer differently. Definitely going to start missing Rori and Grover. Right now, I’m hyped for this season.”
Clasping me on the shoulder, he switches to big brother mode. “Stay focused, Rawls, and the dream you’ve been working for the last ten years is going to happen.”
No pressure, bro.
Landon’s words push a little shiver through my spine, a reminder of all the bumps and bruises—literal and figurative—I have experienced to be here, today.
Determination surges through me.
I won’t let it be in vain. I deserve this opportunity. And I’ve put in the time.
We break the moment as a group of guys walk past the car, being noisy.
“Let’s go,” Landon says.
Once inside, we head to our separate destinations. My first stop—the wide receiver room.
Each position has its own room where everyone can gather to talk strategy, go over plays, and bond.
When I walk in, our wide receiver coach Myron Allen is there, as are Ty and Chance. Last year’s starters, including Bailey, aren’t here yet.
“All three rookies,” Coach Allen says. “Perfect. While we wait for the full group, let me go over the plan for the next couple of days, since it’s your first camp.”
After he walks through the schedule, he turns to Ty. “I’m not going to pull punches with you. We’re going to need something special this week.”
Ty’s face snaps into a serious expression. “Yes sir.”
All of a sudden, training camp became even more real.
I might lose a friend.
I swallow and look at Ty. “You got this, man.”
“Thanks, Battle.”
