Brandon

I am not sure why Lizzie has all of a sudden gotten weird on me. Again. But it's time I go over and see her; only the coach has called a practice session, so the guys and I have to get our asses over to the ground stat. I wouldn't mind since I love being on the field, but it's a friggin Sunday, and I am tired from the week.

Not only that, but I have my assignment to finish and a marketing presentation to get together. It irritates the shit out of me that I need to get my grades just to play football when it's already clear I'll get into the NFL eventually.

I'm excited to play in college; the games will be amazing, and Denver is too. It's all we talk about at the moment. I am so ready for summer break; I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to it.

Lizzie has told me that her folks are talking about a trip, and it kind of makes me feel weird because I really want to spend as much time with her as possible before she goes off to wherever she has decided to go. She's still on the fence about going to Paris or to Dallas, Texas. My heart grips tight. Shit. Being away from Lizzie is actually kind of scary.

"You up, son?" My dad's voice shouts out. "Breakfast is up. Better get your skates on if you've got practice this morning."

"On my way." I grab my black Nike sports bag and sling it over my shoulder, stick my mobile in the pocket of my sweatpants and head downstairs. I've not bothered to shower, and I know my hair must be standing on end from running my fingers through it at least a dozen times this morning already.

This whole Lizzie being weird with me, and the thought of her leaving for college, has got me in a bit of a ditsy state. I hope I get my shit together by the time I get to practice. I sure as hell don't need the coach having a go at me for tardiness. But I am whacked as fuck.

"Looking forward to the game next week, Son?" Dad puts a plate of pancakes in front of me and a green, nasty-looking smoothie. I hate those damn things, but my mom swears that it'll do me good. It tastes vile; how Lizzie can have a thing about green smoothies is beyond me. It makes me shudder.

I knock the smoothie back to get it out of the way first, then dig into the pancakes, that is after I've doused them in lashings of maple syrup. Pancakes are not pancakes without the maple.

"Sure am, Pop. It's going to be good. Kinda sad it'll be our last one for the school though." He nods.

"Of course, but you'll be playing for your college after the summer. You and Denver are lucky to be going to the same college and still able to play together." I agree, totally.

"It's been our dream since we were kids, Pop, to get to the NHL and play for the Lizzie." He beams. He is so proud of me, and it shows.

"Your mother and I are so proud of you. Just wait, you will be some hotshot NHL player with sponsorships, and everybody will be shouting your name." I grin like a Cheshire cat. It fills me with excitement, and I imagine all the lights, the drum of the packed stadium and the girls. Oh boy, the girls will go insane for me. So, why do I feel a tightening of my chest?

You've got it. Because I'm starting to feel all mushy over my girl Lizzie-Baby and there ain't a damn thing I can do about it, since she's going away to study and only sees me as her little kid friend, Brandon.

"You're miles away. What are you thinking about? You have something on your mind?" He asks as he sits down with a coffee in hand. Dad is already dressed in his regular golfing outfit, cream slacks and navy polo shirt. I play, but I just don't have the patience for it. I find golf boring, but my dad loves it, so we go out on the course together every now and then. My mother, speaking of, has just come into the kitchen. Her hair is fixed in a messy bun atop her head, and she is dressed for gardening in her denims and a pink floral tee.

"Morning, sweetie. How did you sleep?" Dad passes her a coffee and pushes a plate towards her.

"Yeah, not bad. Tired."

"Too much playing football and studies. It'll be summer break soon."

I don't respond to Dad's question about what is really on my mind because I kind of feel weird talking to him about my personal stuff. And what if it's just a phase I'm going through? Man, how stupid would I look?

"Gotta dash, catch you guys later." I kiss Mom on the cheek, and Dad pats me on the back. They start chatting away about their plans for the day, and I love hearing their voices as I make my way to the front door and out to my truck.

It takes just twenty minutes to get to the stadium where we practice; there are already a few cars outside. I check the time on my dash; I'm not late. Good. Coach shits a brick if we're late for practice. I bet he's got a helluva session lined up for us. How I'm supposed to keep this up- gym work and the pool alongside all my work is beyond me, but I have to. I already know that when I get to college, the work will triple. I groan. Why can't I just play football full time already?

Denver slaps me on the back as he comes to sit next to me on the benches in the locker room, a couple of the other guys acknowledge me as we get changed into our kit.

"Not feeling it this morning," Denver says.

"Me neither, it sure sucks."

"Tell me about it. I was hoping for a day when Lilly wasn't called to the field. What the fuck is wrong with coach? We've got this game in the bag." I sigh and shrug my shoulders. Who am I to argue with the coach?

And yes, he gave us a grueling workout. Starting with passing, catching and sprints for fifteen minutes, stretching, and jogging around the pitch three laps. Seriously? He has me on the tackling dummy because I'm the quarterback for twenty minutes. I am so bushed out it's unreal. His whistle finally blows after nearly an hour. It's our sign to grab some water and towel ourselves down.

"Why is this so intense this morning. He's gonna have us fucked up before next week." Yeah, I'm moaning.

"Do you have anything to say?" Coach asks, glaring down at me as I sit on the bench.

"No, Sir. Just you know it's Sunday and all. We need a break, and I've got a mountain of school shit to get done."

He stands with his hands on his hips, his eyebrows raised. "You can't pull that attitude next year in college, Brandon. You're going to be working your nuts off and then some. You'll not know what has hit you so suck it up and get with the goddamn programme." Denver sniggers next to me. He likes punishment. I'm fucking sure of it, as he just sucks it up. Denver is already ready to go as he stands up, jogs on the spot, then claps his hands together. "Right guys, let's hit it." Being the captain, it's his job to keep everyone focused and motivated. We all get up for another round of practice. This time we're doing fire drills and sideline running; finally, we move on to the cool down with more stretching. By the end of the practice, I am sweating buckets. It's dripping down my forehead and I am thirsty as hell on a dry day.

"Hey pansy boy, any parties tonight?" One of our offence players shouts out across the locker room as we're undressing to hit the showers. Jenson is a powerhouse of a guy with a body like Arnie and the looks of Brad Pitt. The girls go crazy for him, but he and his girl – by the way, she is a freshman in college, forget her name though - are seriously dating.

"I'll give you pansy fat boy." He chuckles, giving off beaming white teeth.

"Not an ounce of fat on this Adonis body." He strokes his abs that look more like an eight than a six-pack. The man is one beef muscle car, I kid you not.

"I think there are a few parties on tonight. I'm not going out." I tell him.

"Can't take the pace, huh?" Denver chuckles. I flick Jensen the bird.

"Fuck off, J. I've got a mountain of schoolwork to finish."

"Get Lizzie to do it; she's always covering for your ass." This is true. My bestie is a darlin'. She does help me out with my studies a lot because she knows how damn hard it is to do everything and stay on top of my game.

"Nah, she has her own shit to do. Here, I'll text you a few numbers that you can call to hook up for a party tonight."

"Thanks, bro." We all hit the showers, and it's the usual my dick is bigger than yours banter going on, a lot of muscle flexing and just guys being guys. You know how it goes.

I check my mobile after I've dressed. Still no message from Lizzie. I'm thinking fuck it, I'll just drive round to see her instead.

I say bye to the guys and let Denver know I'll catch him tomorrow at school.

I'm off to see Lizzie-Baby.