05 | War and Strategy and Beer Pong

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After the Syracuse camp, simultaneously adding more gold stars and more question marks to my scouting report (I even had the University of Virginia coach straight-up ask me if I was willing to decommit from Cornell), I iced my shoulder and slept through Friday. But as I tossed and turned in bed, there was one thing that lingered.

I could easily back up all my shit talking by performing on the football field. That part was easy. Convincing the inner circle of football elite I wasn't some kind of degenerate proved to be more of a challenge. I pulled out my phone and typed up an Instagram DM to the one other person I knew who could have yapped about my drunk and disorderly to the likes of Tony D'Marco.

@ DALLASG3: Okay gossip girl, who'd you go blabbing about my birthday party to? Because Tony D knows we all got arrested...

@ CHANDLER.ENGLAND: technically, I was not arrested.

@ CHANDLER.ENGLAND: New England is a small pond Dal. What goes around comes around

I clenched my jaw at the way she called me Dal. In fact, she was the only person that still called me that. Chandler England was the only daughter of my father's closest friend from Cornell. I was sure the prospect of Chandler and I becoming some sort of power couple was the only thing that kept the idea of me going to the Cannondale School within my parent's sights. But the England family's own internal problems put a lot of distance between us and them over the years. Instagram DMs and the occasional drunk snapchat were the only things that kept Chandler and I tethered nowadays. 

@ DALLASG3: right, i'll remember that next time something embarrassing happens to you. Wouldn't want anyone finding out about that incident at the ski lodge with that cheese wheel.

I groaned and dropped my phone face down on my bedside table. The late afternoon sun crept through my blinds, and I figured it was about time to drag myself out of bed and get myself ready for the weekend. With the school year looming, we were all trying to cram as many parties as we could into the last few weeks of summer. Anthony's parents were out of town, which meant that was the black hole we'd all stumble into tonight, followed by our tiny town's summer fair this weekend. After the week I'd had, I was prepared to drink and drink until I forgot it all. I'd drag Cornell and Tony D'Marco into that black hole with me.

When I got out of the shower, I had an influx of texts and notifications waiting for me. While I half-expected a snarky response from Chandler, she left me on read. Even more surprising was the DM at the top of my messages.

@ KAIANEEDSANINSTAGRAM: What time are scouts coming to your practice tomorrow?

I scowled as I typed a response.

@ DALLASG3: afternoon practice only. Why?

Her response came almost immediately.

@ KAIANEEDSANINSTAGRAM: Can I just use the field for two hours in the morning? Like from 8-10 and then we will leave I promise.

I was mid-response when Chris called me.

"I can't do it man, I can't do it," came Chris's distraught voice from the other side of the phone.

"Can't do what?" I groaned, plucking through a pile of clothes at the foot of my bed. I picked up a plaid button-up shirt, caught a whiff of sweat and Thai food, and tossed it back in the pile.

"Apparently Nina is back from Ecuador, and Margot told Rochelle that she was going to be at Anthony's tonight."

I grimmaced at the very mention of Nina Castillo. Nina ran in the same cheer circle that Rochelle did, and because cheerleaders and football players could rarely be separated, our friend groups overlapped in most social settings. Nina and Chris had also been playing tug-of-war with each other since hooking up under the bleachers at homecoming freshman year. Nina was tolerable enough on her own, but after nearly three years of their bullshit, sticking her and Chris in a room together was like blowing dynamite on a submarine.

"You're not bailing on me." I finally tugged a navy and white striped t-shirt on that only faintly smelled of smoke. "Plus, I'm trying to get justifiably shitfaced tonight, and you're my ride."

"Every time you're shitfaced is justifiable to you. Don't we have practice tomorrow?" Chris protested with a sigh.

"Stop whining," I groaned. "You act like we've never gotten drunk and gone to practice the morning after."

I heard Chris sigh again on the other end, and I knew he was kneading his fingers through his shock of red hair, like he always did when his nerves got the better of him.

I threw myself on my bed and put Chris on speaker phone as I fumbled around my bedside table for my mason jar stash of joints. I slipped one out and put it in a ziplock bag before stashing it in the side pocket of my Nike duffle. "Look, you're coming out, you're gonna have fun, and if I have anything to say about it, you're gonna get laid too."

"Gee thanks." I could hear the eye roll in his voice.

"I'm saying because you deserve it, you asshole," I jabbed back with a little too much bite in my voice. "I mean it."

"Fine, fine," he surrendered. "Jeez, you're pushier than my mom on laundry day."

"What can I say?" I grinned. "I'm a guy who knows what he wants, and tonight I want you to loosen the fuck up."

"Oh Gunther, what would you do without me?" He said with a dry chuckle.

"Probably only get scouted by 1AA schools without you to show off and catch all my circus passes," I snorted.

Chris barked out a laugh. "Yeah, probably."

A moment of silence lingered between us. I couldn't bring myself to outwardly admit it, but I'd miss Chris when he and I went our separate ways in college. I wasn't just losing my go-to wide receiver. I was losing little things, like bitching at each other over girls, dragging him out to be social when he was in a mood, getting McDonalds drunk and seeing who could eat more chicken nuggets.

I had plenty of acquaintances, but I only had one Chris.

"Alright," Chris sighed. "I'll scoop you up in 30. Be ready please, waiting makes me antsy."

I grinned. "No promises."

As I waited for Chris, I spent the last 20 minutes staring at myself in the mirror hung behind my closet door, alternating between trying to tame my wild mess of hair and popping a zit on my chin. 

When I heard Chris lay on the horn of his Jeep Cherokee, I quickly showered myself in a spray of Tom Ford cologne and scooped up our team Nike duffle bag off my bedroom floor. Despite being wrapped with old t-shirts, the liquor bottles in the bag still clanged as I shrugged it over my shoulder, and I did my best to hold them steady as I made my way downstairs.

My parents were at the country club, which gave me free reign to slip out with nothing more than a "going to Anthony's" text to my mom. By the time they'd see it I'd hopefully be 10 beers deep.

I scurried across the front lawn to Chris's white Jeep at the curb and tossed the bag into his trunk. I made sure to slap the big red "ROLL TIDE" sticker on the corner back window before jumping into the passenger seat. It seemed everyone except Chris himself accepted that he was going to Alabama, but subconsciously I knew he did too.

"You're late." Chris tapped the clock on the dashboard, which read 8:02 PM.

"Waiting on you now, Christopher." I put my Nikes up on the dashboard and gestured to the road. "The car isn't going to drive itself."

Even behind the lenses of his Ray Bans I knew he was rolling his eyes at me, and I gave him a light shove in the arm.

We blasted the Electro/Dance station on Chris's satellite radio as we drove across town to Anthony's, sucking in the last few moments of our hot summer nights.

By the time Chris and I rolled up to Anthony's house, the party had reached Defcon 2. Red cups and beer cans littered the Higashioka's immaculate front lawn like landmines, Chris and I tiptoeing around as if they'd actually detonate. As we skirted around the perimeter of their massive Colonial brick house to the back gate, bass-heavy hip hop carrying through the sticky night air, we'd waded into the western front.

Anthony was notorious for throwing all the ragers, mostly because to him, there was no such thing as a guest list. Anthony's parties functioned on word of mouth, and out of everyone I knew, his mouth was by far the biggest. His parents went to Japan a lot between business and extended family, and his sisters were already in college, leaving his house open more often than not.

When people realized Chris and I had walked in, the crowd of sticky bodies parted like the red sea. I tried to field every high-five and fist bump that came our way, greeting faceless people I'd probably passed in the hallways but couldn't stick a name on. Along the way to the back deck someone put a beer in my hands, and a different girl passed around jello shots like candy on Halloween.

"About fucking time," Anthony called from the deck, wildly waving his hands at us. Chris and I went our separate ways, and maybe part of me should have been more worried about his obvious plans to find the grenade that was Nina Castillo and throw himself on it, but in the end, Chris would do what he was going to do. Even if it would hurt him in the end.

Biggie blasted from speakers strategically placed in every corner of the yard, and I squeezed myself through more bodies to find a place next to Anthony on the railing, overlooking the rest of the yard. The entire party seemed to move and breathe as one, almost like its own ecosystem of alcohol and hormones.

Anthony held out his beer can to me, and we clinked them together before chugging them down.

"Must be nice to just look out at all of this and know you're the king," Anthony said, and if I didn't know him any better, I'd swear there was a hint of bitterness in his voice. We'd never directly competed for anything in the six years we'd known each other, but I guess there was something to be said about simply living in someone else's shadow.

I clicked my tongue. "Heavy is the head that wears the crown, Ant."

"Oh please," he rolled his eyes. "Don't even try to pull that my life is so hard bullshit with me. You have it fucking made, and you're gonna have it made for the rest of your life."

I let out a sigh as I cracked open another beer. Maybe he was right. I fear no evil, because the shadow is mine and so is the valley.

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I spent most of the night playing beer pong with Rochelle. Kicking ass, taking names, and doing what I did best - lose myself.

"So where's Princess Jordyn?" Rochelle poked at my side. We sat on the edge of the pool as the party began to die down, our ankles swaying back and forth in the water.

"At her grandparent's in the Hamptons this weekend," I shrugged, finishing off another beer. I'd lost count at ten. "She invited me, but...that's like, a boyfriend thing, isn't it?" I made a sour face.

"Well since you're not a boyfriend thing, you should probably stop stringing her along." Rochelle kept her head down towards the water, kicking around a stray leaf with her bare foot.

I scoffed. "Everything is fine the way it is, so why fuck it up?"

Rochelle gave me a wry smile. "One of these days Dallas, that people-pleaser in you is going to get you in a lot of trouble."

"One of these days..." I nodded. "...but not today."

Rochelle pushed herself off the concrete patio and held her hand out to me. When she hoisted me up, all the blood rushed to my head, and little stars flashed in the corners of my eyes. If she hadn't been holding my hand, I might have gone tumbling into the pool.

"I'm gonna go, we've got practice stupid early tomorrow," she said. "You'll be okay?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "I think Chris and I are just going to stay here. I don't know where he is now, but with the way he was slugging back beers earlier, I know he sure as shit can't drive."

Rochelle gave my hand a squeeze. "Stay out of trouble, Gunther."

I smirked at her. "No promises, Evans."

After Rochelle left, I found myself wandering around the yard, drinking straight from a stray bottle of Fireball as I walked along the edge of the pool, testing my own balance. My phone buzzed in my back pocket, effectively ending my little game.

@ KAIANEEDSANINSTAGRAM: You really don't even have the nerve to answer me? Forget it. Never mind.

I groaned and lowered myself to the ground. I'd never finished the message meant for her earlier, and now it was biting me in the ass. My first instinct was to not respond. The field was mine, and I didn't owe Kaia Greene anything. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the late night summer heat, and as much as I wanted to rely on instinct, instinct was drunk.

@ DALLASG3: sorry i've been busy...it's yours, just be out by 10

@ KAIANEEDSANINSTAGRAM: Really??? Thank you!! I owe you Gunther

@ DALLASG3: Don't worry about it...I can think of a few ways you can repay me ;)

"Dude, who are you talking to?"

I jumped as Chris slung his arm around my shoulder, all loose and red-cheeked breathing Bud Light in my face.

"No uh..." I shook my head and pocketed my phone. "It's nothing."

Chris used my shoulders to keep himself steady, pointing his can of Bud Light across the pool. I followed his bleary gaze through the thinning crowd of people, where Nina was talking to the captain of the boys' soccer team, Jeremy Kiffen. She laughed at something he said and kept her hand on the sleeve of his black and blue team jacket.

"Look at her," he drawled out. "Like I don't even fucking exist. Like we didn't... take each other's virginity on the couch in her parent's basement sophomore year, or...or...or when we snuck out that one night on the class trip to Boston to watch the stars. It's fucking bullshit."

I groaned and spun Chris around to face me, making a dismal attempt to steady his wobbling body.

"Listen to me Chris." I squeezed his red face in my hands. "You are the best fucking person I know, and-"

Chris held up his hand to protest, but I stopped him.

"No, shut up and listen to me. You are gonna to go to 'Bama and crush it. You're gonna find and marry Miss Alabama just like AJ McCarron did, and you're gonna get the fuck out of here and never come back." Everything I said came spilling out of my mouth, slurred together like one long word and punctuated by a few sloshed hiccups, but I just let it all go. Drunk Dallas was a lover, not a fighter.

I finally let go of him and gestured out to the party. The lights in the pool faded in and out as they changed colors, illuminating everyone's faces in reds and purples and blues. By this point in the night, a drunken haze glistened in everyone's eyes. "All of this is just smoke and mirrors. High school is stupid. So fuck Nina, and honestly? Fuck everyone else, too."

Chris let out a groan, and I knew that dazed look that glazed over his eyes. We'd reached Defcon 1. I lowered Chris into a chair and put my hand on his head.

"I'm going to get us some water. Don't fucking move, and if you're gonna puke, use the trash can."

I slipped through the sliding glass door leading from the deck into the kitchen. Other than the hum of the fridge and the squeak of my sneakers against the tile floor, it was quiet, and suddenly the party seemed far, far away.

"Hey," a soft voice fluttered behind me. I turned around to see a girl leaning against the marble countertop of the kitchen island, twirling her finger around her blonde ponytail. "Can you pass me one of those?"

She nodded to the water bottle in my hand.

"Sure." I slid the one I was holding across the island and retrieved another one from the fridge. The lights in the kitchen were dimmed - save for the two hanging above the kitchen island - but her blue eyes flickered with something intriguing as she looked up at me through long eyelashes.

"You're Dallas, right?" she asked.

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

She met my dumb, obvious question with a smirk, like she already knew what I wanted to hear. "Everyone knows who you are."

"Right," I nodded. I glanced out the door at Chris, who was passed out on the lawn chair. When I brought my gaze back to her, she kept smiling at me, her teeth a far too perfect shade of white. "So how come I don't know who you are?"

"Transfer," she shrugged. "From Calgary Prep. My name's Anna."

I nodded slowly, looking her up and down in her cropped t-shirt and tiny denim skirt. The muscles in her legs flexed as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"Soccer player," I concluded with a nod.

"Striker," she replied with a grin. "How'd you know?"

"The KT tape on your ankle."

She laughed a dainty little laugh. "Handsome, perceptive...you really do live up to your reputation don't you?"

I shrugged. "Depends on what else you mean by reputation. I am a man of many talents."

"Well, I've got time if you feel like showing me a few."

I gave her a coy smirk as she ran her tongue along her bottom lip, reaching down and intertwining her fingers in mine. I did always have a thing for athletes.


and my friends are all annoying
but we go dumb yeah we go stupid

hot girl bummer / blackbear


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So to clarify - Dallas and Jordyn are NOT in a relationship, so he is not cheating on her. He's just being Dallas.

Also HI @ my godchild Chandler. Chandler belongs to my partner-in-crime w1ldflow3r, whose story THE HALO EFFECT (about Chandler's own teenage drama and debacles) and BLIND AMBITION share a universe. This won't be the last time you see Chan *wink wink nudge nudge*

Obviously would love to know your thoughts so far. We're almost at the end of the summer, and we're about to dive headfirst into fall - aka FOOTBALL SEASON. Get ready for it.

Until next time kids!

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