I tell Alyssa to follow me while I begin walking. I'm determined to prolong this interaction as long as I can, before she shuts me out again. It's the first time she's said more than a few words to me since June. And even then, it was the basic answer to the questions I asked. Questions whose sole purpose was just to grapple onto any bit of information from her.

I should have taken the hint when I woke up the morning after we had sex and she wasn't still in my room. I had slid on boxers and walked out into the shared spaces of our apartment. I didn't find her in any of them, so I walked to the opposite side of the apartment to look.

I found her in her temporary room, kneeled to the ground putting her running shoes on. When she turned around to find me leaning against her door jamb I expected her to be happy. She seemed to have enjoyed herself, I mean I know I did. I thought she would at least come up and give me a kiss or something before she went about her day, but she didn't. She shouldered past me without a word. And since then we've barely exchanged more than ten words. Not that I haven't tried. Even if she won't admit it, she's been avoiding me. Her cold front gets especially frozen when Anderson is around, but lucky for me, he isn't right now.

Alyssa obeys my commands, her steps fall into time beside mine when she catches up to me. She questions me, wondering where we're going. I have to bite back my laugh as she continues to ramble on about needing to set a few ground rules before she can come with me. I ignore her to give her a taste of her own medicine.

I lead her around the building to the ramp that leads to the half underground parking garage attached to the building. When Alyssa realizes that I'm trying to get her in my car she hesitates at the entrance to the garage.

"You want to follow me for a day as I prep for the season? Well my day starts now, let's go," I say, continuing to move to my car, only stopping to open the passenger side door for her.

"This isn't what I meant Cal! I meant that-I need ground rules, boundaries and clear expectations. I need time to prepare!" She protests. I, however, just keep my eyes on her and my hand fixed on the frame of the door.

"Perfect, we can talk about them on our way to the facility. But you better hurry, I'm going to be late and that doesn't bode well for me, or you ever being allowed to come into the facility again," I answer, biting my lip to hide my smile from knowing it's not what she wanted to hear at all.

Alyssa still doesn't move from her place so I take the chance to walk up to her, letting my frame tower over hers. It's the closest I've been to her since that night in June, without her boyfriend around that is. I'm met with the top of her head. Her eyes are fixed onto her feet. I use my hand to tilt her chin towards me, even then, her eyes meet mine for a split second before looking sideways. She's avoided me for months now, but now is my chance to prevent it from happening further.

"You can trust me, Alyssa. I'll follow whatever boundaries you set, but you can't ignore me, not anymore. Now let's go." I don't let go until her eyes meet mine again. Only then do I flash her a smile and release my hold on her. I move back towards my car as Alyssa reluctantly follows me. She slides into the passenger seat and when she's fully inside, I close her door before moving around and into the driver's seat.

🏈🏈🏈

I lead Alyssa through the facility and into one of the meeting rooms. Each practice starts like this, so if she really wants to follow me around my routine this is the best place to start. I didn't even let her explain her idea fully, but it doesn't matter. I have the chance to let her follow me around all day and I'm going to take it.

I even listened to her big boundaries she insisted we set on the drive over. On her fingers she counted them off. One, we only meet when it pertains to the article. Two, if I don't want it on record, I shouldn't say it. It's probably her attempt to put me on my best behavior around her. And third, we're only allowed to meet in public. Meaning that when I go home, when I continue my routine in the confines of my apartment she's not a part of it.

I get Alyssa set up in a chair in the corner of the room and tell her to stay put before leaving and heading towards my dad's office. He's not going to be happy about this, but I'm hoping he's too preoccupied to pick up on my lie when I tell him I've already told him about this, and that he agreed.

Our relationship isn't what it used to be, not after the role we both played in my sister's life and her struggle with her mental health. But unlike my father, I have been working to change my role in her life into something more positive. My relationship with Camryn has been better, but it sure is a hell of a lot better than it was a year ago. My father on the other hand still maintains his innocence, that everything he has ever done has been from a place of love and compassion when his children are involved.

I've learned though, that I can keep him and Camryn separate in my life. She still refuses to talk to him, so I have my relationship with her on one side and my relationship with our dad on the other.

And my relationship with my dad has always been an easy one considering he's my football coach and the fact that we're a lot alike. It's always made it easier for us to communicate and find understanding in one another.

It doesn't, however, mean that he will understand my inviting Alyssa into a closed practice. Or the fact that I even want to do an interview where I put this type of spotlight on myself. He doesn't need to understand though, because I still don't quite understand it myself. All I know is that I've searched for a way to get closer to her for months now and it's fallen right into my lap.

I knock on the door and wait for him to tell me to come in. "Cal! What's going on?" He asks, setting down his playbook and looking up at me.

"Morning sir, wanted to remind you that the reporter from the university is here all day doing that piece on me," I say, trying to weave the words in a tone that is matter of fact.

"I don't remember ever signing off on that?" he begins. "That's not a welcomed distraction this close to our first game." He's now standing behind his desk, no doubt to bring us to eye level. He can't stand allowing me to have the higher ground.

"You did, because it's Alyssa. You know, Ryn's roommate from last year?" I add the last part, not sure if the mention of my sister will backfire or boost his willingness to go along. Who knows, Alyssa's involvement could pay off in his favor if she reports back a clean bill of health to Camryn.

"And how long will she be around? She knows she can't report on any specific team or play information, right?" His tone is a mixture of accusatory and reluctancy. I reassure him, telling him I already gave her the ground rules, which I did after her own set of rules. Not that I think she would sabotage our program by letting anything important slip. From the sound of her idea, her story isn't so much about the process of the game as it is about me, and how I prepare for it.

My father grabs his book and tablet and moves through his office and out into the facility to head towards our first meeting of the day. He meets with the offensive line and coordinator first, while I meet with the quarterback coach. Then our second meeting of the day will combine both rooms.

I walk back into the conference room to find Alyssa deep in conversation with Bennett Clarkson, my back up quarterback. I watch from the doorway for a second as Alyssa's face lights up, her expressive features all rising as one until a look of surprise fills her face at whatever the fuck he just said to her. She quickly swats a hand towards Clarkson before exclaiming there is no way he could be serious.

"Serious about what?" I cut in, needing to know what I can say or talk about to make her make that face towards me. Or to at least swat that hand at me.

"Bennet here was just trying to convince me that he prefers Krohn Conservatory over Franklin Park Conservatory! But I was just about to argue that Franklin Park is double the size and their butterfly exhibit is so much better!" Alyssa says, her hands swirling in exaggeration around her. I've noticed that about her, she talks always talks with her hands, like the big gestures make up for her otherwise petite features.

Clarkson begins to reply but I cut him off. "Gardens, really Clarkson? That's the best you got?" I tease.

"Got her to talk to me, didn't it?" He smiles towards Alyssa as he responds.

"Better watch it. Anderson will come in here and kick your ass. And I won't stop him." Alyssa rolls her eyes at me as Clarkson asks if she's really with Anderson. Alyssa responds with an "Mhmm," which I take as a good sign.

It's enough though to end their conversation, allowing me to make him move over one to give me the seat right next to her.

"Do I need to remind you of our rules, Quinn?" She asks, her once interpretive hands tightly tucked underneath her thighs.

"No ma'am. Just wanted to help you out. Clarkson's got an STD," I say, earning me another eye roll from Alyssa.

"Okay... so here is how today will work. Since classes still haven't started we're in meetings all morning, then film during lunch, and then practice afterwards. After practice I will go see the training staff for preventative rehab before I go home," I answer.

"First official question," Alyssa begins to remind me that we are always on the record according to her rules. "Does every position have such a rigorous schedule leading into the season? And do you maintain the same training when classes do begin?"

Before I can answer though, Coach Day enters the room greeting us all and ignoring Alyssa. My father must have filled him in and told him to pretend she wasn't there. It's his go to when it comes to the media. Always act like they are watching, but never let them see you acknowledge it unless you're addressed directly and prepared to answer their questions. He's had practice with it in his many years coaching, never once giving in to speculation without a well tailored response that always moves the narrative in his favor.

I keep my eyes fixed on Coach, but in my periphery can see Alyssa pull out a notepad and her phone. She pulls up the voice memo app but doesn't hit record. Instead she sits with a leg crossed over her knee, the pen between her fingers gently tapping against her thigh. It's probably because everything being said in this meeting will be about game strategy and plans. She may be reluctant to work with me, to speak to me, but at least I know she's listening when I talk. And it lets me know that she is taking this seriously. Not that I doubted her, but you can't be too sure who you trust. Especially when you have so much to lose if they decide to fuck you over.