*.*.*.*.*.*

November 29

For Friday's game, I dress for the team.

It's not because I have a particular tendency to support the home team. It's simply because I know how much this game means to Shane. It's the biggest game of his high school football career and -- especially seeing how anxious he's been about it -- I want to show him my support.

"I see you're making a statement," Marla says, eyeing my white shirt with its frilly hem.

I ignore her, rolling my eyes and squeezing myself between her and Riley in the bleachers.

"So are you two actually together now or what?" Riley asks, keeping her gaze fixed on her phone.

It's weird, really, how coolly she speaks about Shane. I get that Carlos and her didn't really get anywhere with their relationship but that was her decision. After I found out the truth about Carlos' relationship with Gemma, I've been nothing but friends with him. I can't help but feel like Riley blames me for their failed relationship. I kind of blame myself too, for how I'd acted in the beginning without knowing all the facts.

Uproarious cheering drowns out any opportunity of me answering and we all look towards the field to watch the two teams take their positions. I see Shane standing directly behind the center, yelling something I can't even try to make out over all the noise. He glances toward the crowd and I wave, pretty sure he won't be able to see me anyway. He doesn't, turning away and preparing for the start of the game. It's at that moment that I notice -- quite irrelevantly -- the number on his uniform.

Thirteen.

What a fucking unlucky number.

I don't believe in luck, though, but I do believe in choices. And when the game begins, I can only watch in horror as Shane's choices begin to weigh him down. With every miss and every mistake, I wonder how it would have been if he had never started taking Adderall. And if he had ... if only he hadn't stopped before this game.

The team loses fifteen to six.

I don't say it, but the six were pure luck too.

"I'll see you guys later," I yell to my friends who are too busy discussing with extreme disbelief how terrible the game was. Trying to push past the bags and jump over the legs of students who don't bother to move out of my way, I make my way towards the team locker rooms to find Shane. Seeing him throw his helmet on the ground and stalk off as soon as the whistle blew to announce the end of the game, I know how heartbroken he must be.

I try calling his number -- which I never do -- but the call only goes to voicemail. I call Carlos instead and tell him to meet me outside the locker rooms. Tapping my foot and wrapping my arms around my waist, I wait for him to come out. When he finally does, I can see my pain reflected in his eyes.

"We got owned today," he says as soon as he sees me.

"How is he?" I ask, not sure I'm ready to know the answer.

"How any guy who just ruined his entire life would be," Carlos says.

I narrow my eyes and scowl at him. "Could you be any more dramatic, Carlos? You're not helping with statements like that."

"Hey, those are our coach's words." He shrugs.

My heart sinks. "Did he say that to Shane?"

"Hell yeah." Carlos sighs.

"What did he say?"

Carlos' shoulders slump and he looks into the distance.

"He hasn't said a word since he got in there," he tells me.

I suppress a groan. A part of me had hoped Shane would be able to overcome the defeat and still be able to hold on. However, knowing what his coach said to him and how he must feel, I can see why he's so disheartened.

"Can I see him?" I ask hopefully.

"He isn't moving," Carlos tells me. "I tried getting him off that stupid bench but it's like he's glued to it. He isn't coming out any time soon."

"Can I come in and see him then?"

Carlos huffs out a sound halfway between a cough and a laugh. "Not unless you want to find a dozen half-naked sweaty guys throwing punches and curse words at each other because they're also super pissed off right now."

"Ew," I say under my breath, grimacing. "Well, I have to see Shane."

"Yeah, we all want things we can't have," he says with a dramatic sigh.

I punch Carlos and he whines even though I'm sure it doesn't hurt.

"Either you get Shane out here or get everyone else out so I can see him in there," I threaten Carlos.

"Dude, Tay, that's imposs --"

"Don't make me call your Gemma," I add haughtily.

Carlos' eyes widen and mouth drops open.

"Shit, you're the evil witch from SnowWhite," he gasps.

"You bet I am," I snap. "Now go. I'm giving you ten minutes."

Carlos attempts to argue, sounding insanely similar to a two-year-old attempting to explain why he should be allowed to have as many sweets as he can stuff in his tiny stomach; it's illogical.

Pushing him back into the lockers, I huff and hug myself while I wait for him to find a way for me to see Shane. I don't know what I'm going to do to make him feel better since I know this entire situation is freaking messed up. Nonetheless, I hope I can try and make him feel a bit better. There has to be a silver lining to this. Maybe it will enable him to talk to his parents that he doesn't really want to play football.

Or maybe it will make him wish he'd taken more Adderall.

"I said ten minutes," I remind Carlos when he returns twenty-five minutes later.

He narrows his eyes and hisses at me. "Oh, you try getting ten angry dudes to get out when they all want to shower and snort some cocaine."

I don't answer, rolling my eyes and waving away his words because I know he's right.

"Can I go in now?" I ask.

"Sure. But I'm telling you it's no use. Unless you can give him a good head or something, the guy ain't moving."

I elbow him in the rib to get him out of my way, singing 'ew' as I pass him by and enter the locker room. As soon as the scent hits me, I almost barf, realizing how right Carlos was about football players being smelling and sweaty. The place smells like sweat balls and fart, and I lift my hand to pinch my nose as I scan the dimly lit space. Seeing Shane at last, I make my way over to him, trying not to die because of the disgusting odor.

"Hey?" I speak softly, stopping a foot from Shane to give him time to react.

His head snaps up and his eyes take a moment to focus on me. When realization dawns at last and he relaxes, I close the remaining distance between us and sit down next to him.

"How're you feeling?" I ask, my eyes on his hands which are curled into fists and hanging between his knees.

"Like a fucking failure," he grumbles back, blowing his head again.

"You're not a failure," I say. "You just failed today. Doesn't mean this one defeat defines you."

"You know what defines me? Adderall," he snaps, confirming my fears.

His tone is angry but I can hear the undertones of helplessness seeping into every enraged syllable. He's upset and angry at himself, regretting what he has done.

"Adderall defines who I am," he says. "I was a good football player when I took it. But it wasn't me. It was the pills. I didn't take them once and ended up with a fractured ankle. I didn't take them today and lost a chance of lifetime. Because those pills made me brilliant. Without them, I'm nothing. This is me. A loser. A failure."

"That's not true," I say gently. "I know it feels like it but it's not."

"You don't know what it's like," Shane snaps, his entire body jerking when he stomps his foot on the ground. Hie voice trembles with a mixture of rage and regret and he sounds close to tears. "You don't know what it's like losing everything you've worked for. You don't know how it is to fuck everything up."

"I know what it's like to lose the thing that matters most to you," I mumble.

"Oh, yeah?" Shane demands. "What's that?"

"My brother."

He freezes, suddenly closing in on himself. I swallow and blink before looking up to see him watching me with regret-filled eyes.

"I know it's not the same," I add. "But I know what it's like to wish you'd done something differently. I know what it's like to constantly go back in time in your mind and blame yourself for everything you didn't do right. I know what --"

"Taylor!" Shane begins, shaking his head with his brow crunched.

I smile, reaching out to take his hand.

"I know I can't help make this better," I tell him, winding my fingers through his. "But I'm telling you that I'm here. Whether you want to cry or scream or rant, I'm here. Whether you win or lose ... I'm here."

Hurt flashes in his eyes and his face crumples. Shane doesn't cry, though, scrunching up his face and sighing deeply through his nose.

Before either of us can do anything else, though, the door to the locker room opens and Carlos comes rushing in.

"Dude, where's your phone?" he asks Shane.

Shane pats his pockets and looks around. "I'm my bag probably. Why?"

Carlos swallows. "Your mom's here."

If Shane was sad before, he looms absolutely brow-beaten now. Fear and pain fight for dominance over his features and he looks at me with a broken expression.

"Will you come with me?" he asks in a small voice, a child frightened of his mother's reaction.

I nod even though I'm freaking out inside. "I told you I'm here."

No amount of reassurance can relieve him though, and I wait for Shane to gather up his things and swing his bag over his shoulder before trudging toward the locker room exit. Carlos grimace at me and I exhale a breath, following Shane and sliding my fingers through his from behind.

We make it to the parking lot together, my heart beating a thousand times a minute. It stops entirely when I catch sight of an elegantly-dressed lady standing next to Shane's navigator. Her deep blue dress hugs her curvy body and her sleek curls stop boumvcing at her shoulders, pearls sparkling around her neck and wrist. She looks up as we approach and I feel so unprepared for this first interaction.

I also see where Shane got his elegant good looks and style from.

"Shane, honey," she speaks, her voice calm but domineering. "I can't believe what I'm hearing."

Shane staggers to a stop, his clammy fingers trembling between mine. My stomach twists into knots at the realization that Shane is afraid of his mother.

Or maybe, he's afraid of letting her down.

*.*.*.*.*.*

A/N: I wrote this entire scene but the chapter became so long I've decided to split it up. Thank you for reading, guys. Did you think Shane would lose the game? How do you think this failure is going to play out for him? And what about Taylor?