Forever Dark(22)

Besides the very early start, I enjoy these morning workouts because for once I don’t have to think.





After working out, I take a quick shower and I’m on my way to my Cell Biology class that morning, dragging ass so I grab a coffee on the way there. Once in class, Saylor’s already there staring at the board and then his book.

“I think I forgot about the test.”

I smile and hand him the coffee I brought for him. He smiles too and takes it. “You know the way to my heart, sugar.”

“Anything for you, cupcake.” I wink at him as we continue to tease one another.

A chick walks by and Saylor bites his fist. “She has a nice fucking ass.”

I look. He’s right.

I smile. “You have a nice ass too.”

He winks at me. “You touch it a lot too.” Being the center, it’s a given that my hands are near his ass a lot. Unfortunately.

We both start laughing until class begins.

This class is intense, we not only have to know everything about anatomy and physiology as well as biology at the cellular level, we also have to think like a crime lab and be able to process a crime scene. Why I agreed to take this class as my science requirement is beyond me. We signed up for this thinking there’d be chicks in here like those who work in the CSI Crime Lab in Las Vegas, instead it’s every douchebag wannabe male crime scene tech and a few girls but not the football groupie type that we are used to seeing.

A few girls walk by and smile at us. I give them a nod but not much else. I smile knowing I’ll probably see one or two of these girls back at our dorm room later. My freshman year I had a total douche bag for a roommate, but then I got to room with Saylor my sophomore year and it’s worked well between us. He never cleans up anything but we’re football players so not really a top priority for us.

Saylor Wilson gets a lot of pussy. Like a lot. Every fucking night it seems. He also has a porn stash, and a pretty decent one at that. I’m actually impressed. And a little jealous.

My major is in Humanities. Everyone asks me what the hell a Humanities degree would be good for and my response, “it’s going to serve me well when I’m a first-round NFL draft pick.”

My passion is football, plain and simple. I had to declare a degree when I accepted the scholarship to play football and this seemed like the easiest route. I had no idea what I’d be up against with the amped up level of football that is played at the college level. School was important but I knew what I was here for. I thought it would be an easy degree, man, was I wrong.

Declaring a Humanities degree as my major requires me to study everything associated with literature, art, religion… basically the humanities over the centuries. I do a lot of reading, even more writing, and a ton of research and staring at artwork, paintings, and sculptures by the great artists. And by sculptures and paintings, I mean lots of naked women. One more bonus point for this major.

It’s entertaining to me that Saylor, a 6’4”, center who most would assume is dumb as a fucking rock has the same major. It’s not that funny because he’s fucking smart as hell. School is important to me. About as much as football. There’s no guarantee that after college I’ll ever play ball again but you can bet your ass that I’m banking on it. That’s not the goal, of course, but I need something to fall back on. Worst case, I can be a professor someday for a university and teach.

Like any other day, I move from class to class, study my ass off before practice, head over to the player’s lounge directly after that, relax for a few minutes and have a protein drink and then it’s practice for three hours.





Oregon doesn’t have a professional football team. It’s clear when you look at the college football stadium and training center. All the money goes into this place and pretty much anything you want. I’m in the player’s lounge with an iPad in my hand, a bottle of water in the other, watching films from the Bears last game trying to see any advantage we might have. We play them on Saturday and I’m trying to get an idea of the defensive line. My mind isn’t on the films like it should be. Instead, it’s on Madison. It’s hard to focus on anything but her most days. There are times when I can’t think about her, like at football camp because they run you into the ground. Other times, she’s someone I can’t seem to shake. I worry about her. I feel like if I didn’t have her in my life in some way, she would slip away completely. It’s far from pity or sympathy that I feel for her, what we had is so much more. Hell, what we still have is so much more.

It’s not easy because I know damn well what’s keeping her alive, those drugs she insists on taking, is killing me in more ways than she will ever know.