I Love You Just the Way You Are (Book 1- Rock Canyon Series)

Chapter 24 - Kellan

Chapter 24 – Kellan

I read the text again from Coach Baker.

"Davis! Call me ASAP!"

This isn't going to be pretty. He's probably heard the reason for my suspension, and he's going to be pissed.

I pressed call from the text message screen and didn't have to wait more than a single ring for Coach Baker to answer.

"Davis! What's this I hear about you punching a couple of kids out in the hallway today?"

Yeah, this is going to be bumpy.

"Coach, it was one kid. And he earned it. It sucks that they stripped me of two games instead of just one, but I don't know that I can do anything about it."

Coach huffed. "Story is that you were defending that little queer who calls himself Maddie. Said that you like him."

I glanced toward the archway separating the kitchen from the living room and noticed a shadow moving ever so slightly. I hoped it wasn't Maddie listening in. I stepped toward the glass doors leading to the backyard.

I leaned my forehead against the glass door, trying to gather my thoughts and steel my resolve.

I can't let him talk about Maddie that way, whether she can hear or not.

"Coach, I'm going to give you one chance to take that back and apologize, or I quit." My voice was uneven and raw. I lifted my free hand to my face, shocked at how shaky it was.

The line went silent. I closed my eyes and waited as images of my future rushed to greet me.

I saw myself sitting at home, watching my mother drink herself closer to an early grave, as I tried to eke out decent grades at the local community college, hoping and praying that they would be good enough to get into an art school... any art school. With no scholarships for washed-up high school jocks turned wannabe-anime artists, I'd have to take out student loans and hope that I could afford to pay them back when they came due.

"Davis, are you joking with me?"

I saw my past, all the work I had put in since I first picked up a football at seven years old. All the people who had told me that I'd be a star in the NFL someday. All the times my dad made me train until I almost puked, telling me that there was somebody out there working harder than me, that I'd never be good enough if I didn't listen to him. And I'd grunt and keep pushing harder, determined to earn my ticket out of here, to blast out of town and never come back.

"No sir, I don't joke about Maddie. And it's not him. It's her."

I remembered the nights sitting in front of my sketchpad, wishing desperately that my drawing was why everyone kept looking at me with adoration. I didn't understand what people expected of me. Just because I could throw a football didn't make me a god. Why did grown men gleam at me when talking of my future? Is that what they wanted when they were growing up?

All I wanted was more time with my art. I was never able to focus on it like I wanted to. But that was because I knew the only thing that was going to get me away from this hell was football. So, I doubled down, studied extra film, lifted more weights, threw more balls to Tyrell.

And I stuffed my passion down as far as I could. I hid from myself, pretending that I was doing what I loved when it was slowly becoming what I hated.

I don't know how the phone stayed in my hand. The first tears fell without ceremony, just little blobs running quickly to my shirt collar.

Why was this happening to me? Why was the world condemning me when for the first time in my life I was doing something for myself? I liked Maddie. Why did it matter what she was? And why did I get in trouble when I was only defending her?