Harper's Rules 1 & 2

Chapter 24: Jake

"Fuck!" I cursed loudly, ripped off my helmet, and tossed it onto the turf. It bounced a few times, then spun under the sideline bleachers.

I probably shouldn't have been so frustrated as Drake punched through the field goal, but three points weren't enough when we faced the offensively charged UW Huskies.

Yeah, those Huskies. Hightower's Huskies.

For once he kept a neutral face, but most of them smirked at us in their white away jerseys and purple pants on the opposite side of where our teams met again, at Allegiant Stadium in Las Vegas. And he chose today, the PAC-12 championship game, for a career-record scoring game.

With seven minutes left in the third quarter, we were now behind 45-49. UW won the coin toss, scored on their opening drive, and offensively hadn't looked back. If I hadn't battled him from the opposite side of the field, I would've been impressed.

I was fairly sure that the defensive guys, on both teams, were our usual stars but they each faced an offensive shoot-off in today's game. Admittedly, Hightower charged forwards, just a bit more efficiently, with perfectly crisp, longer yardage passes. He already had three hundred and eighty-seven yards passing with three touchdowns, but his legs hadn't stopped moving. He'd also run for a hundred and fifteen yards and two touchdown passes.

By no coincidence, eight NFL team's scouts witnessed our offensive slugfest.

On my side, my numbers were higher than normal, and I'd executed our spread offense damn near perfect. Even with no huddle, my guys hit their routes with the precision only two weeks of practice ensured. Play after play, although slower than Hightower's show, we charged down the field and tied up the game with every returned opportunity - until a moment where I'd flung the ball a little too hard, it bounced off Griff's outstretched fingertips, and bounced out of bounds.

My fingers clenched into my sweaty hair as I flung myself onto the bench with a hard plop. I hadn't said a word but was thankful that the guys had left me a two-foot radius of space the entire game.

Since I'd unleashed out all my failed relationship feelings, I'd mentally closed off my brain to any possible topic outside football and school. Academically, I'd completed all of my assignments and taken the final exams in three of my courses earlier. My fourth class only required a term paper, so I'd submitted that to my professor then completely submerged myself into a solid week of preparations for the PAC-12 playoffs.

Without a request from the players, Coach Campbell had splurged with team funds and given every offensive and defensive starter on the team a single hotel room. We'd had enough distractions already and he knocked on every guy's door like a warden and made sure we were at least in our rooms, and alone, by eight pm the night before.

With Vegas' closer proximity to Los Angeles, which was also a much bigger market than Seattle, the crowd was about sixty-percent USC fans, but still forty percent UW. Last week, Hightower had informed me in a text, just minutes before his press release aired on ESPN, that he'd declared himself eligible for the NFL draft.

The insane number of ten UW jerseys in the stands showed their appreciation for their transferred-in quarterback for his second and final season. Our bittersweet reunion for the coin toss ended with a usual Hightower taunt, "Catch me if you can."

My social media accounts were still locked, but now by my choice. I should've waited until after the season ended to get a new phone but had gotten one after I'd mentally sobered up. Physically, I'd sobered up a lot faster but when my headspace felt clear enough, I'd reached out to only Mom and Ellie.

Still, the sight of just Mom in her designated seat, next to Delilah, had hit me harder than I'd expected. In a text message I shouldn't have read, Ellie informed me that she'd unsuccessfully convinced Harper to come today.