"I'm not going to get scurvy."
"You can't just sit around in the dark."
"I'm not," I say, my voice short. "I've gone out."
"Yeah, to practice. Where you look like shit. And at night like a damn vampire," Tank says. "Driving off to wherever to do more sitting by yourself."
"Maybe I'm driving off somewhere to get laid," I shoot back gruffly. "Ever think of that?"
"Have you seen yourself in a mirror lately? Did I mention you look like shit? You're not driving anywhere to get laid. And you smell like shit. When's the last time you showered?"
Did I shower when I got back from the gym at lunch? I spent an hour beating a truck tire with a sledgehammer until my back and arms were screaming from the pain and I didn't want to punch anyone anymore. That part wasn't training. Was that today? Or was it yesterday?
"Why don't you go nag Sable?" I suggest. Even speaking her roommate's name makes my heart feel tight, like an invisible hand reached in and put it in a vise grip.
"Because, fuckhead," Tank says, "thanks to you, Sable's not answering my calls now either."
"Why is she mad at you?"
"I don't know. Maybe because you were an asshole to her best friend?"
"I wasn't –" I start, then stop, the air going out of my lungs. Tank looks at me like I really was banging the naked chick in my room. "None of that was what it looked like."
"What it looked like is that you were partying with some trashy chick and Cassie, the girl who's way the hell out of your league and a thousand times smarter than the stupid whores you used to bang on a regular basis, walked in and saw you."
"That's not what happened," I say. "I wasn't even in my room when she walked in. I don't even think that's the part she's really upset about."
She's upset because of what that cocksucker Dillon said. Because she thinks I talked about nailing her. She thinks I bragged about what happened between us to the whole team, like I ever want anyone else picturing her naked.
The mere thought makes me want to hit something again.
Tank holds up his hand. "Whatever," he grunts. "I just know that she deserves way better than you."
"You don't think I fucking know that?" I ask, my fists balled up against the sides of my thighs. "Why the hell do you think I'm staying away from her? She told me she didn't want to see me again and I haven't."
That's a big fat lie. The hell I haven't seen that girl.
I've driven by her apartment a few times. Okay, I sat across the road from her place in my truck once. That sounds like I'm stalking her, but I just have this weird need to know she's okay.
I know I shouldn't be doing it. I should let her walk away. I should put my attention back on football. I just can't seem to help myself.
"For whatever reason," Tank grumbles, "she loves you. You need to figure out what the hell to do about that."
"It was Dillon," I blurt.
"What?"
"That asshole sent the girl to my room."
Tank gives me a "yeah, sure" look.
"And," I go on, "he told Cassie that I'd been bragging to the team about screwing her, telling them stories in the locker room."
"Jesus," Tank exclaims. "I'm sorry that he didn't have to get his jaw wired shut."
I laugh. "That's exactly what I thought. 'Course, if that had happened, there's no way I'd be playing this semester once Coach found out."
"Why would Cassie believe that? Dillon gives off skeeze vibes. She's not stupid. She would have seen right through it."
I exhale heavily. "He said I was bragging to everyone about her being a –" I pause, not sure I even want to say the word to Tank. "A virgin," I finish. "You don't fucking tell anyone that either, or I'll kill you. Me and Sable are the only people who know that."
Tank shrugs. "So, he figured it out."
"No, I told him. It was that other time we got into it. He was talking about how her mouth was made for sucking cock." I can hardly say the words out loud. The thought of what came out of his mouth makes me livid, even now. "I – blurted it out. Before I hit him. He was just running his mouth, basically calling her a slut and it – I couldn't think straight."
"Ah, shit. So Sable thinks I knew about the locker room bragging."
"I guess."
"So, what are you doing sitting in your own filth in here feeling sorry for yourself? Tank asks. "Go tell her."
"I tried. She doesn't want to see me again. Ever," I mutter. "And anything I say now is going to just sound like I'm trying to cover it up."
"Well, then stop being a whiny-ass pussy and try harder."