“I KNOW ONE of you little pricks took it.”

Coach paces in front of us, snarling insults and accusations that echo his southern twang against the walls of the Texas University gymnasium. The entirety of the TU Titans football team sits around me in creaking folding chairs, whispering anxiously as the scent of fresh sweat from our practice fills the room.

“Henry.”

My head shoots up at the sound of my name and I realize, to my dismay, that everyone is staring at me. Coach Bryer glares, his eyes squinted in frustration and arms crossed tightly, as he waits for my response.

“Uh – um, yes, sir?”

Great. You sound real confident, jackass. Not like you’re guilty at all.

“As captain of this here team, I’d think you might know better than anyone who stole my most prized possession.”

He shoots a knowing look towards Jonah McGee, my childhood best friend, whose eyes are currently boring straight into the floor.

“If that someone,” Coach Bryer continues, eyes still fixated on Jonah, “wants to admit their guilt… I just might be willing to let the rest of the team off scot-free.”

He pauses for a moment, allowing a tense silence to filter through us.

“Otherwise, y’all can expect to be doin’ bear crawls across that damn field ‘til the season’s over!”

“We’re innocent, Coach!” Todd Watson, our wide receiver, groans out of frustration.

Blood rushes to my ears as I sneak glances at Jonah, head in his hands, refusing to look up at Coach Bryer.

“I know you might be, Watson. But I doubt one of your teammates could say the same. Jonah–”

God help me.

“I did it, Coach,” I call out, a splitting headache of regret instantly forming at my temples as I do so.

“Henry–” Jonah interjects, panic spreading across his face.

“I’m sorry, Coach,” I continue, ignoring Jonah’s pleas. “I’m not sure what got into me. Thought it’d be a funny prank is all.”

Coach Bryer stares in my direction, his features clouded by intense skepticism.

“You sure about that, son?” he asks, his bushy, graying eyebrows furrowing.

I swallow hard as a lump forms in the back of my throat.

Why do I do this to myself?

“Yes, sir.”

Coach lets out a low whistle, excusing the team from the gymnasium.

“–except you, Anderson.”

Fucking hell.

“Dude, why the fuck would you take Coach’s Heisman Trophy?”

My voice strains over the blaring house music as drunken sorority girls dance against us, their beer splashing onto the floor as they sway to the beat of the vibrating bass. Jonah and I both tower over them and the rest of the crowd gathered in our living room, which is made up mostly of girls and the rest of the TU Titans. A few non-football players, including our other roommate, Danny, are strewn amongst the room, too, desperate to have even one girl turn their attention towards them instead of my team – without much luck.

“I didn’t have a choice, dude,” Jonah calls back to me as he dances against a red-headed jersey chaser. “Thanks for taking the heat for me.”

I shake my head at him, rolling my eyes. I love Jonah, I really do. He’s been my best friend since we were kids growing up on the same cul-de-sac. But, sometimes, he gives in too quickly to peer pressure. It’s why his chocolate-colored hair is highlighted into caramel strands, why he’s covered in meaningless tattoos that his other friends encouraged him to get, why he’s constantly sifting through the couch cushions for the vape he’s been addicted to since his freshman-year roommate asked him to try it. I don’t even bother asking for the details on “why he didn’t have a choice” to not steal Coach’s trophy. I can read between the lines enough to know that that means “someone told me to do it, and so I did.”

If it were anyone else, there’s no way in hell I would’ve taken their place getting reamed by Coach Bryer. But Jonah’s a special case. Not only is he one of my best friends, but, unlike most of the kids at Texas University, he’s on a prestigious football scholarship. Since I’m captain of the team, Coach Bryer is a lot more likely to grant me some grace. I mean, I could tell he didn’t believe that I was the one who took the trophy, anyhow. But if Jonah were to admit that he did it… there is no doubt in my mind that he’d be off the team in a heartbeat.

Without that scholarship, he’d have to drop out of college entirely.

“You wanna go upstairs, baby?”

The soft whisper tickles my ear as slender hands wrap around me from behind, startling me a bit.

“Natalia, you scared the shit out of me,” I reply, turning to face the tall brunette clutching my waist and pressing her toned body to mine.

The music is deafening as she sways gently to its rhythm, with multi-colored strobe lights enhancing her feminine curves.

“What’s wrong, handsome?” she asks, batting her ice-blue eyes at me as her lips curve into a devilish smile. “You don’t want me tonight?”

“I’m not so sure, considering your dad practically skinned me alive after practice today.”

Natalia chuckles softly, her dainty finger trailing down my abdomen.

“There must be something I can do to make up for it.”

“Huh… I’m sure I can think of something.”