𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 | 𝐠𝐮𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞

¹¹ | Steak and Seafood

ᴍᴀᴇᴠᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪᴀᴍꜱ

𝐈 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 rushing around my body. My head is spinning. I'm nervous. More nervous than I was on the first day. I still don't know much more from the party than what Guy told me. I'm embarrassed enough that I called him, and probably said things I shouldn't have. I don't remember. I just want to remember.

Adam is walking next to me. He is quiet. School doesn't start for another 45 minutes, so the campus is dull and empty. The building is beautiful but looks haunted--old and cracked. He wanted to come in early and get coffee. I think he wants to talk about something serious and is too scared to do it in his house anymore.

I let him be silent for as long as he wants. You can never push Adam to talk, you have to let the words form the way he wants them to form. Instead, I lightly press my fingers to his wrist and hold his arm.

"Do you know how much I hate Varsity?" he finally asks.

I shake my head. "You haven't really talked much about it since you made the team. I thought you'd love it--getting to play with people on your level and who can push you."

"Well, I like that part of it," he nods. "It was stressful, having to always be..."

"The best," I finish for him because Adam does not like to sound full of himself.

"But it's still hard, you know? I feel like I can never do anything right and I'm just trying so hard to be the player they all think and want me to be. Like, here's this new freshman, is he really as good as he's supposed to be? I guess I'm just scared that I'm proving them all right--that I'm not good enough to be playing up there."

"Are the guys mean to you?"

He shrugs. "It's difficult to describe. It's not like they are directly mean or saying mean things. It's more intimidation, I think. They always have this grin on their face when they look at me--like I'm in on this joke, but really, I don't know what the joke is at all."

"I think they're intimidated by you, A."

Adam laughs. "Yeah, okay. Why would they be intimidated by me? I'm 15 years old and on the third line."

"Because," I say, pulling him to sit on a nearby bench that faces a large pond. "How many of them can say they were 15 years old and on the Varsity third line? Very few. Whether you know it or will admit it, you are incredible at what you do, Adam. And it's not just because you're good. It's because of how much passion and heart you put into it. You work and you work. For every single thing you've ever gotten. Talent gets you far, but drive--real love for the game, gets you even farther. That's why they are intimidated by you."

"I guess I also just really miss you guys. Half of the ducks hate me now, and the other half pity me, so it's like--how would it be any different playing with Varsity now?"

"None of them hate you. None of them pity you. Jealous? Maybe."

Adam pulls on his fingers. I look at his hands. He no longer doodles in blue ink pen. There are no animals or 'C's anymore. I wonder when that stopped. "Charlie hates me."

"Why would you say that?" I question, moving his hair out of his eyes.

"Because he just does. He's not..." Adam mutters. "He's different now. He's not the same person he was last year. He's not the person I fell in love with, and that hurts."

"Do you still love him?"

Adam nods. "I don't want to, but I do. It sucks. Everything about this sucks. I just feel so stupid, you know? I really thought he might have liked me back. I thought that I mattered to him--when it was just the two of us..."