NFL draft

Zane's POV

The engine of my Ferrari SF90 Stradale hummed beneath us as we turned into the long driveway leading to the Calloway estate.

From a distance, I could already see them, reporters….a whole pack of them, pressed against the gate.

I let out a slow breath. "Bloody reporters." I leaned back against the leather seat. "Can't they let me breathe for one second?"

Jaxon laughed from the passenger seat. "Bro, you're Zane Calloway, Blackthorne's golden boy." He glanced at the crowd gathered outside the gate. "What did you expect? Everyone loves you.”

Mason chuckled from the back seat. "Well...not everyone. “That chick from earlier.” A slow grin spread across his face. "Did you see the way she looked at you? With pure hate."

Jaxon burst out laughing. "I've never seen anyone look at you like that."

"Same." Mason shook his head. "No one's ever ever crossed you, Zane. She's the first."

A small laugh escaped me. "She has no idea what she just signed herself up for.”

Jaxon smirked, turning to look at me. "I almost felt sorry for her."

"So what's the plan?" Mason leaned forward.

I looked out through the windshield, my mind wandering back to the Student Center. Her green eyes flashed in my mind.  

A smile found its way onto my face. "Amelia." Her name echoed in my head.

I chuckled. "She's got spirit." I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel. "I'll enjoy breaking it."

The Ferrari slowed to a stop in front of the estate gates, the flashes from the cameras hitting against the windshield.

I pushed the door open, slowly stepping out. That was my number one rule…never let them see you rush. The moment my shoes touched the pavement, the cameras exploded.

"Zane! Over here!"

"Calloway!" The flashes burst across my face. Mike and the rest of my security team moved in immediately. "Back up! Give him some room."

Microphones stretched toward me from every direction. "Zane, ESPN has you projected as a first-round draft pick next year. Any comments?"

"Are you already speaking with NFL scouts?"

"Can Blackthorne defend the championship this season?"

I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt over my head and kept walking, Jaxon and Mason following behind. No point answering questions I'd answered a hundred times before. But the reporters refused to give up. "People are calling you the best quarterback in college football. Do you agree?"

I looked over my shoulder, long enough to meet his eyes. "Not yet.”

The reporter blinked. "What makes you say that?"

I stopped for a second, a slow smile tugging at my lips. "I haven't finished proving it yet."

The silence lasted all of two seconds, then the questions came flying again. "Zane! One more!"

"What does that mean?"

I chuckled and kept walking…let them figure it out.

The security managed to push them back, sliding the estate gates shut behind us. The noise died down instantly.

Jaxon shoved his hands into his pockets. "They're going to keep asking until draft night."

"They'll keep asking after draft night." Mason laughed.

"He's right."

"If you stay healthy this season," Jaxon said, "you're gone."

I glanced at him. "Gone?"

"The NFL." He shrugged. "Every mock draft has you in the first round."

"Coach keeps pretending not to read them…he reads every single one," Mason said. "So does your old man."

I smiled to myself. "Good."

Jaxon raised a brow. "Good?"

"The higher they put me..." I looked toward the mansion ahead. "...the harder I'll make them work to get me."

The front doors of the mansion came into view, standing beneath the stone archway was my father, his hands behind his back.

Jaxon gave a respectful nod. "Mr. Calloway."

Mason followed. "Good evening, sir."

Dad acknowledged them with a nod. "Boys."

I jerked my head toward the entrance. "Go ahead guys. I'll be there in a minute."

Without another word, they headed into the house.

I walked up the steps, towards him.

"I assume you enjoyed the little parade." His eyes moved to the gate.

I slipped my hands into my pockets. "I assume you arranged it."

The corner of his mouth lifted. "I told the media team you'd be home after practice. Public presence is an important part of your brand this season, Zane."

I scoffed, shaking my head in disbelief. “So you turned the house into a media stop?”

“I created visibility,” he corrected. "The season starts in a few weeks. NFL scouts won't only be watching your games, son.” He turned to face me. “I'm preparing you, Zane…”

I stepped closer. “Preparing me? For what exactly, Dad? People who pretend they care about my life because I can throw a ball?”

"It's bigger than that, and you know it.”

“The season hasn’t even started and you’re already turning my life into a press conference.”

“That press conference is why you will not fail this season,” he said calmly. “This is what leadership looks like, Zane. You're not just playing football this season.” He started. I already knew where this was going but I let him finish anyway.

“You are building a legacy,” he continued.

That word again….Legacy. It's been repeated all my life like it was something sacred.

“Fine,” I nodded, arguing with him never changed anything. "Got it.” I pushed away from the pillar that I've been leaning on and started toward the front door.

"Zane." He called, halfway to the door. "One more thing….You've worked too hard to let this season slip through your fingers."

I sighed. "Dad, you have nothing to worry about. I'll keep my eyes on the field."

"Good, because the moment you start looking somewhere else..."

I pushed open the front door. "Dad, I think I got it.” 

I headed upstairs, already running through tomorrow's practice in my head. Coach would want another film session, the receivers still needed work on their timing.

I'd only made it halfway down the hallway when another thought pushed its way in.

The way she'd held my gaze. She'd been scared but still didn't look away. 

I could still hear her voice. "Let him go."

I shook my head with a laugh. "Crazy girl.”