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I was deep in confusion. And okay with living there if it meant what we were doing could continue.
ChapterFourteen
Angelo
I didn’t sleep well. I anticipated the next day like it was a homecoming game, Christmas morning, or the first day of school. I tossed and turned, flipped over, stared at the ceiling, and pulled the pillow over my ears tightly.
It was also the first morning in a few that I didn’t wake next to Gigi.
That shit blew me more than I expected. I was trying to be the responsible player and sleep alone. Go to bed early. Had all my gear set to the side of my bed around nine, and under the covers at nine thirty.
But my eyes were wide awake at three, then five, and again when my alarm blared at six. I rubbed my eyes and sat up in the bed. I was mad at the world, but pissed at myself for the dumb ass conclusion I came to. Sleeping alone wasn’t better than Gigi riding me to exhaustion. Falling asleep late would have been better than waking every couple of hours.
I drug my ass out the bed though. Regardless of how tired I was, I had a job to do. Doing it tired would get the best of me, but I couldn’t let my team down. I didn’t steam the bathroom like usual, I opted for a cold ass shower, hoping it’d help me wake the fuck up.
It didn’t. By the time I pulled up to the training facility thirty minutes away, my eyes were burning and my muscles weak. I walked inside and the smell of turf was like two shots of espresso. Seeing my teammates file in behind me a full night’s rest.
As soon as I heard, “Come on, rookies,” my head was in the game. I didn’t need the introductions given by the offensive coordinator. Every member of the O-line was familiar. I read up on each one. Their stats fresh on my mind. Still, I noted their faces, the smug looks, the fear in some of their eyes as we stood waiting on the next instructions.
“This is it this week.” Coach Wagner emerged from a side door. He could have been an angel the way light illuminated around him. I tried not to let the players impress me during the draft. Shaking the commissioner’s hand was a life-long dream, but even then I kept my cool. Standing in the training facility with the other players, and a seasoned coach, that shit was surreal. Like a kid making it to Disney for the first time. A magical moment. I wiped my hand across my face though. I didn’t want the players to see the excitement written all over it.
Football was like that. I needed to be tough on the field and off.
Coach Wagner took a wide stance in the middle of the practice field. His voice projected and echoed around us as he said, “The vets will be here next week. This is your time to get to know your teammates. Find your groove.” When he said, “Show us what you are made of,” I felt he was talking to me.
The greatest game I had in college, had to be my norm in the league. I couldn’t show up with any less. Coach was still talking, still going over the events of the week. But my muscles were tensing. My entire body was ready to hit the field. I started rotating my arm, like I always did before throwing a ball to anyone.
I heard a gruff growl beside me with a hand clap. It came from one of the tallest guys on offense, Forrest Green. From University of Alabama. One of few rookies on our team with a NCAA championship. The dude was legit. From the look of the scowl on his face, his hunched shoulders, and his wide stance, he was ready to sprint down field and catch what I was throwing. As he growled, he looked like he was ready to knock somebody’s head in.
“Alright,” Coach Wagner looked around, “looks like you’re ready to hit the field. Let me get out the way.” He chuckled before the ball he was tossing in his hand flew toward me. “Angelo Isaac Jr.,” he eyed me, “get your boys right.”
A loud laugh and a whistle stopped us from walking onto the field. “First, you men better stretch.” A woman with long blonde hair and broad shoulders stepped in front of us. “Today is a light practice. Still could cause injury,” she warned. “Follow me.”
The ball was still in my hands. Glued to my palms. I looked down at it, and not even for the stretch did I want to put it down.
“Don’t worry, Angelo,” Forrest’s voice was deep as he convinced me, “you’ll get that shit back.” He looked at me knowingly before reaching his hands over his head like the woman leading us.
“You right.” I placed the football down and joined the stretch.
The trainer, Lauren, stepped aside and we hurried to the field. Like a game in an open field, we took our sides. Creating an offensive and defensive line. I huddled with the offense, telling Forrest, “You break right and sprint down field.”
He nodded and agreed, “I got you.”
His speed and my arm landed us the first touchdown of training camp. “That’s what the fuck I’m talking about,” I yelled after meeting him in the endzone. “That right there is what got you that ring,” I boasted.
Other players smirked. One even telling me, “I see you are coming to take the job, huh?”
I side-eyed him and squared my shoulders. “Man,” I grumbled, “that’s not what I said.”
He nodded. “Prove that to everyone else.” Jacobi Mason, out of Florida, was a legit running back. Like Forrest, the two of them would be in the starting lineup. I needed them to not only believe I could deliver, but trust I was there for the team. If I couldn’t get them to work with me, everything I did that week would be in vain.
So, the next ball went to Jacobi. He tapped my shoulder afterward and said, “I see you, Angelo.”
By lunch, I forgot about the lack of sleep I had the night before. But the idle time reminded me of the person I wish I woke up next to. I wanted to shoot her a text, but with only a few minutes to eat and get into the meeting, I wouldn’t have time to go back and forth. Instead, I found a local flower shop on my phone and called in an order.
“Did I hear you say something about flowers?” Forrest walked beside me as we headed into the conference room. All the offensive players were meeting with our coach.
“Yeah, man.” I scratched the back of my neck.
