COMPLETED
Penn State University.
Home to the craziest sorority girls, most obnoxious football players, and a possible Vice President's son.
Sloane Beck wants nothing more than to have her cheating ex-boyfriend crawl back to her.
Blake Day wants not...
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Blake Day
I looked over the top of him as he shot me a smirk.
"I think I just broke my elbow or my shoulder—and maybe I have a concussion too." I let out a sigh of relief as I realized he wasn't fucking paralyzed. "However—I promise whoever didn't block me from that very illegal hit—will be running miles!" He spoke loudly, his other arm came up to cradle the elbow.
"Reese," I spoke his name. The stadium was quiet as he shook his head. Coach and the medics hovered over top of him before Coach looked like defeat—once the medics got confirmation that Reese wouldn't be playing for the rest of the game—the ambulance was pulled onto the corner of the field.
The crowd cheered as Reese used his good hand to wave.
And now here I sat—next to his hospital bed, waiting for him to wake up after the pain medications wore off. I had to be the one to tell him the bad news.
The door quietly snapped open as Webber pushed open the door, carrying two large cups of coffee in his hands. I hadn't left Reese's side since I returned from our win against Iowa. Somehow—Mitchell was able to lead us to a large victory.
"I brought you a coffee," Coach whispered, pulling up a chair next to me. I thanked him before grabbing it from his hands. I had little to no cell service in the hospital—Sloane hadn't even been able to get ahold of me. I could only imagine what Reese's parents were going through.
How do I even tell him?
After he had those scouts come last week- and he was the star of the show. His dreams were right there, right in front of him—how was I going to tell him?
"What's on your mind?" Coach Webber asked as I nodded, chewing on my cheek—I was in a deep stare off into space.
"He's going to hate his life," I muttered for a moment before returning to all previous motions. He sighed as he crossed his legs. "He will be okay Blake. He will go to therapy—he will recover. It might take ten years—but he will be okay. I promise." He assured me.
